Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: The Way Things Are



   Summary: A son finds love with his mother under the not-so-watchful eye
of his father.


Keywords:inc,fic,erotic,hot





   Oops

   "I could stay," I said.

   Mom shook her head.  "No.  Go have fun." She smiled at me and flicked
the back of her fingers upward in dismissal.

   Dad stomped around the kitchen, making himself another drink as he
talked about his lost car keys with an ever-loudening voice.  He slammed
his bottle of Jack on the counter.  He threw ice into his pint glass, and
some tumbled about the floor.  He opened cupboards that didn't need
opening, and he slammed them shut a moment later.  He slammed one cabinet
door shut three times in a second.

   "You still can't find my keys?" Dad asked, still in the kitchen.

   "I'm not looking for them," Mom said.  She looked at me.  "Go.  Have
fun. Someone in this house should.  You can take my car."

   "You'll be okay?" I asked.

   "Look at you," Mom said.  "Grow a little chest hair and get a license
and suddenly you're the man of the house?"

   Heat reddened my cheeks.

   Mom walked over to me, hugged me, and then she pushed me toward the door
without another word.  Fuck it.  I left, intent on having a good time and a
good time I did have -"too good of a time because when I returned home with
my alcohol wobble in a thickly blurred world, concern about my parents'
anger wasn't on my mind.

   I stumbled through the front door and almost fell head first into the
wooden flooring when I took off my shoes.  From there, I moved onward to
the kitchen for a bottle of water that I took upstairs with me, riding the
railing with my left forearm and side the entire time.  I was too busy
ignoring the buzzing in my limbs and the alcohol that swished from side to
side beneath my skull to hear the creaking of bed springs and the rattling
of a headboard against a wall and the moaning that spilled from my bedroom
door until it was too late.

   Why the fuck was there moaning coming from my room?  From the
fuck-scenes that I've watched online to the camgirls I had jerked off too
as a freeloader in their virtual world, and from my own girlfriend's moans
when I finger-banged her, I should of have known what that moaning meant,
but it was coming from my room -"why?

   I stumbled through the darkness of the upstairs hallway to my bedroom,
where a soft golden fog of light shined through my open door.  Dumb and
getting dumber, I rounded the threshold without stepping beyond it and saw
a sight that knocked the alcohol right out of me in a spray of ethereal
mist.

   The light came from my bedside lamp, on my left side facing inward,
making it my room's right side facing outward.  It was my reading lamp -"I
shook my head.  My father was in the center of my bed, naked and balanced
on his hands and knees with his lean ass bouncing up and down, driving his
cock into my mother's snatch at a pace that made my headboard rock against
the wall and my bed's wooden frame creak and the springs in my mattress
squeak.  But that's not all that his cock did.

   "Uh, fuck, uh, uh, uh," my mother moaned.  She had her knees up with her
calves resting on the outside of my father's ribs, her feet rocking back
and forth.  It reminded me -"even at this angle -"of a jockey riding a
horse.  As blurred as my vision was, it managed to shoot forward in a
close-up for a from-behind-shot of my father's cock slamming into the
frothy pool between my mother's long legs, his balls blocking my view
whenever they smacked against the pale circle of her asshole.

   Holy fuck.

   Run.

   Hide.

   Get away.

   Those were great ideas, and I should have followed them.  Instead, I
stood still and watched my father give it to my mother in a
pound-that-pussy-till-it's-sore kind of way.  And Mom took it, grunting and
moaning, cursing and smacking Dad's shoulders and digging her long fingers
into his ass cheeks.  Her sounds filled the room.  They filled me, igniting
the rhythm of my heart to a pace I heard within my skull.

   THUMP -"thump-thump-thump . . .  THUMP -"thump-thump-thump . . .  THUMP
-"thump-thump-thump.

   Sweat formed on my brow.  My breathing deepened, and a tight swelling
below my waist forced a groan from my lips.  Dad kept fucking, battering my
mother's vagina as the sexy wet noises of an overly stimulated twat
splashed between my mother's thighs.

   "Oh, fuck, you bitch," Dad grunted, "you're going make me come!"

   "Come, Daddy," Mom said, panting and breathing hard.  "Come for me.  Oh,
fuck, come for me, Daddy.  Yeah!"

   My eyes widened and darted about the room. Daddy?  Bitch? What the
fuck were they talking about?  I took in the bottle of wine next to my
lamp. I took in my father's pint glass of whiskey full of melting ice and
watered-downed Jack, the beads of condensation dotting its surface glowing
honey-like beneath the lamplight.  I listened to my father come and watched
as pumped my mother's pussy three more times and gasped after each thrust
as if her slot was sucking the jizz right out of him.  He fell onto her,
and she stretched her legs across the bed, then he rolled to the side
without looking up, his semi-hard cock flopping wetly from my mother's
pussy and slinging cum and cream everywhere.

   Motherfucker, my sheets!

   That thought lasted a moment before I ran my eyes up my mother's long,
sweat-soaked body and big breasts with their puffy areolas and thick, rosy
nipples. She has no pubic hair. And as exciting as that was to see,
something else caught my eye.  Something unexpected.  A pink collar with
steely studs circled my mother's neck, and a delicate chain that shined
silver in the light trailed off to her left and onto my pillow, hidden by
her shoulder.

   What the fuck?

   Then my cheeks flooded with heat and I looked past the collar and into
my mother's eyes.  She was staring right at me, saying nothing, doing
nothing.  She just lay there, naked and glistening with cum and sweat,
staring right back at me.  I blushed until I thought my skin would melt and
I turned away, my movements slow and calm, and I walked down the hallway to
her room, where I stripped down to my boxerbriefs and climbed into her bed.
They had taken mine, and the alcohol swimming in my system reasoned that I
should take theirs.  So I did.

   Tempted

   I didn't hear the opening of the door or the flicking of the light
switch, but the light and the rattle of metal was enough to wake me up.  I
lay on my mother's bed, on my father's side, and Mom had just placed her
leash and collar on a dresser by her door.  She held her bottle of wine
along with a long-stemmed wine glass in her left hand, her long fingers
curling about the neck of the bottle and the stem of the glass.

   I said nothing.

   Mom said nothing.

   She took her time and poured herself a glass of red wine nearly to the
rim of the bowl and then she took a long drink as she stared at me huddling
beneath the blankets covering her bed.  Her bloodshot eyes hid beneath a
liquid film, and they appeared distant and considering.  She looked a mess,
with wild hair and a wrinkled black nightie that hung off her shoulders,
the thin straps trapped on her upper arms, and the hem stopping on her
smooth upper thighs.  Her nipples jutted out, completely formed through the
fabric of her gown.  She closed her door and walked a crooked line to her
side of the bed, lifted her sheets and slid in next to me.

   "Mom?" I asked as the alcohol I had drunk thickened my thoughts.

   "Go turn off the light," Mom said.

   "You turned them on."

   "Go," she snapped, but in a low tone that took some effort.  "Go turn
off the lights for me."

   I slid from the bed, sensing her eyes on my broad shoulders and narrow
waist.  I felt them traveling over my lean muscles and for some reason, as
I stopped in front of the light switch, I tightened my ass cheeks beneath
my cotton boxerbriefs.  Then I turned off the light and walked back to the
bed and crawled under the covers.

   I lay in the dark, trying to control my breathing as my heart decided to
move a little faster beneath my chest.  In the absence of light, after what
I had seen taking place in my room, time lasted forever.  I opened and
closed my hands, then clenched them into fists.  My nipples tightened, and
beneath my briefs, a slow swelling of my cock left my shaft curled over my
sack in a crescent-shaped fire hose filled with excitement that I didn't
want to think about.

   "Why didn't you take the couch?" Mom asked.

   "You guys too my bed," I said, adding some accusation to my voice.

   "I'm sorry you saw that." Mom's voice reached me from a distance, her
tone low and thick, her words measured.

   "Why were you in my bed?" I asked.  "Why my bed?"

   "I go there sometimes," she said, "after I fight with your father."

   "But why did you stay there?"

   Mom sighed.  "Your father drinks too much" -"she yawned -""and I can't
afford to waste his good hard-ons by switching rooms." She made
that mm sound.  "Make-up sex is good sex, baby."

   Fuck me.  How much too-much had she drank tonight?

   "Why would you tell me that?" I asked, mumbling the words.

   "How old are you?"

   "Eighteen."

   "Well, there you go," Mom said, then whispered, "he didn't make me
come."

   I closed my eyes as my throat went dry.  My cock swelled a little more
at the sound of my mother's voice, so calm and relaxed, talking to me in
ways that she never before had.  She shifted on the bed, and I listened to
her take enough swallows of her wine that I think she had finished the
glass before setting it down.

   "Mom?" I asked.

   "Go to sleep," Mom murmured.  "Come here.  I'll hold you since you're so
sad.  Come here" -"she yawned -""and hold me."

   She was asleep by the time I worked up the courage to slip my arms
around her and pull her into my body so that she lay on her left side.  Her
breath washed over my chest in warm rushes of air, the scent of the wine
heavy on each of her exhales.  I didn't mind, and I closed my eyes and
tried to go to sleep.

   I woke up to my mother mumbling and her hand squeezing my cock.  She had
pushed my briefs down my hips and off my ass, and while her left hand
stroked my dick with an underhanded grip, her right hand clutched my ass,
pulling and squeezing on my cheek.

   "You'd didn't let me come, Daddy," Mom pouted, her words strained and
rough, and bordering on angry.  "You put your leash on me and didn't let me
come."

   She squeezed my cock hard.

   I groaned.

   "You feel big tonight, Daddy," she said and bit my upper chest, just
below my collar bone.

   I hissed.

   "You owe your little girl a come." Mom made a puppy-like sound, a
petulant whine.  "Come on, Daddy.  You used to be so good to me."

   I couldn't speak.  I tried to, but all I managed to do was open my mouth
and look down my body, trying to see my mother's hand on my cock in the
dark.  She released her grip and cradled me, rubbing my shaft back and
forth with gentle strokes that left me trembling.  I had a girlfriend,
Jenny, and I was no stranger to handjobs, but this was different, and not
just because it was my mother masturbating my meat.  Her touch glided over
me, never too tight unless it was for effect, but she knew her way around a
cock.  She knew how to create tingles of pleasure and jolts of electricity,
she knew when to tighten her fingers around my glans to keep me from
coming, and she knew how to brush my balls so that I buzzed all over.  My
mother knew how to handle a cock.

   "Don't come," Mom said.  "Why are you so ready to come, Daddy?"

   I grunted.

   Oh, fuck.  Oh-fuck, oh-fuck, oh-fuck.

   "I'm going to slip this big piece of fuck-meat into my pussy -""

   "Fuck!" I grunted and came, filling my mother's palm with the fattest
load of jizz someone had ever pumped from my body.  I shook the entire
time, gritting my teeth and gasping like an animal, and when the last of my
wad slithered out of my cock, I rolled onto my back and panted, darting my
eyes about the darkness of the room as my legs filled with the energy for a
sprint that would never end.

   "Barry," Mom said, sighing.  "God damn it, you selfish bastard." She let
go of my cock and rolled onto her back, making a huffing sound.

   I could speak.  She'd recognize me, right?  No, she hadn't!  How fucking
drunk was she?  She shifted and fumbled for something on her bedside table
then I heard the wine slosh and the unmistakable sound of Mom upending the
bottle and taking several healthy gulps followed by her slamming the bottle
back down on her nightstand.

   Run.  Run!  Run away!

   I didn't move.  My heart thumped in my chest and battered my skull, and
I couldn't speak.  She'd know that it was me if I spoke.  She'd recognize
my voice.  I licked my lips and took several deep breaths, struggling to
move my left leg toward the side of the bed.  I tried -"so fucking hard 
-"and as the first twitch of my muscles started that journey out of Mom's
room, I heard my mother sob.

   She wasn't loud.  I think she was trying to hide it.  I took a deep
breath and released it in a long tunnel of air.  Then I did it again, and I
did it again, and again, repeating the action until I had calmed the
beating of my heart.  I turned onto my right side.

   My left hand moved on its own.  I didn't think about what I was doing
-"I was only doing.  My mouth had dried, and my cock had thickened, but it
was my hand that acted.  I lifted the covers and slid my arm beneath them
toward my mother, stopping above her pussy, and after a brief moment of
clarity that left me blinded by a deep and depressing shame, I lowered my
hand and cupped the hairless beaver between my mother's legs.

   "Oh?" Mom whispered.

   For the last year, my girlfriend Jenny had been letting me finger her.
One finger.  Two fingers.  My tongue and mouth.  Fingers from both of my
hands.  I closed my eyes and let the alcohol take over my thoughts and
actions, recalling every finger-banging porno scene I had ever seen and
jerked it to and mimicked with Jenny.  If I were going to make my mother
cry, it wouldn't be from disappointment.

   I cupped my fingers and pressed them against the softness of her pussy
crescents, her outer lips swelling over her inner.  Mom spread her legs for
me, and I pushed my thumb upward through her lips.  They melted to the
sides, and Mom gasped when my thumb rolled over her clit.  I held her pussy
in my fingers while my palm pressed against her nub and my thumb lay on her
mound.  I sighed as the soft flesh between her legs settled into my grip,
then I closed my hand, sliding two fingers into Mom's snatch while pulling
my thumb back from her mound so I could diddle her clit with the tip.

   "Mm, mmm," Mom sighed, the sound of her head grinding into her pillow
loud.

   I closed my eyes, trying to picture what my hand on her pussy looked
like.  My cock had never fully softened, and now it arched its body back to
life, the knob leading the way like an elephant's rising trunk.

   Mom slid one hand between her legs and over my hand, while the other
hand went to my mouth where she pushed her fingers between my lips, making
me suck them.  She squirmed on the bed, wiggling her round butt while
grinding her pussy on my fingers.  Wetness dripped from between her thighs,
covering my hand and soaking the crack of her ass, and the sheets below.  I
wanted to taste my fingers, but the snug box between her legs wasn't about
to let go of me.

   "Mm, yeah," Mom moaned.  "Just like that, Daddy."

   I moaned.

   Time slowed.  I kept as still as possible while working my fingers in
unison with my mother's body.  When she pushed on my hand, I fingered her
deep.  When she rocked her hips, I spun my fingers in a circle between her
lips, and when she held my hand in place and fucked her pussy onto my
digits, I hardened my fingers into two straight lines and let her grind
away.

   My thumb never stopped moving.  My speed varied from slow to fast, and
my touch from soft to hard, the motions up and down, then side to side and
around in circles.  Mom's moans turned into whimpers, and she slid her
fingers from my mouth and gripped my cock, tugging me as I finger-fucked
her sloppy box for the first time in my life.

   "Mm, Daddy, Daddy," Mom whined as her insides quivered and her juices
thickened, creating a creamy mess of soon-to-be cum.  A few more presses on
her clit and the curling of my fingers against the underside of her mound
and Mom cried out, planting her feet on the bed and arching her butt off
the mattress as she came and came and motherfucking came.  She had soaked
my hand with cum by the time she dropped her butt back to the bed.

   "Barry," Mom sighed, "Daddy, oh, Daddy" -"her voice softened as she
spoke, fading away to nearly nothing -""you can fuck me if I pass out. 
You've" -"she mumbled something dirty -""earned it."

   I lay still, and I didn't slip my cock into her, but I did lick my
fingers clean of her cum, one by one while trying to keep quiet.  Minutes
past, then more, ten, twenty, an hour, all night?  No, that wasn't
possible. Time had slowed, but I hadn't been there all night.

   You can fuck me if I pass out.

   She's your mother

   So what?

   So you can't fuck her.

   But she said -"

   No!

   I couldn't fuck her.  I squeezed my eyes shut and licked my lips,
tasting her cum that I had licked from my fingers. Oh, shit.  Her cum and
Dad's.  Fuck. I needed to get out of her bed.  I needed to, and so I moved
-"toward her.  I slid under the sheets, not brave enough to throw them off
her body.  I slid down the bed, the heat beneath the blanket causing me to
sweat.  My breathing sounded heavy in my ears.  I licked my lips and placed
my left hand on my mother's right leg, the one furthest from me.  Soft skin
and the tender muscle beneath filled my palm and I rubbed my mother's leg
up and down, pushing it open as slowly as I could.  Prayers long forgotten
by me came to life in my mind, thought-spoken in silence as I crawled
between my mother's legs.

   Mom mumbled something, and as soon as I put my hands on her inner thighs
and pushed, she opened herself wide for me.

   "Mm," Mom whispered, "a special treat for me tonight?"

   I said nothing.  I wasn't even sure I had heard her.  The smell of her
sex created a desire-infused hotbox beneath the blankets more intoxicating
than any drug that I'd come to know.  My cock rubbed against the mattress
as I balanced my upper body on my forearms, keeping my chest low and my
head down.  Eyes closed, mouth open, I lowered my head and pressed my lips
against the softest and sweetest and hottest piece of pink pussy in the
world...

   After I had made my mother come, and I was sure that she had fallen
asleep, I slipped from her bed, found my clothes on the floor and went
downstairs to sleep on the couch, unable to believe what had happened.

   Short Lived Relief

   I woke on the couch the next morning to an earthquake that was my father
shaking me awake.  For a moment my heart sped up, and I thought Dad was
pummeling me for molesting Mom, then I remembered I had drunk a lot and the
spinning world, and dull throb mushrooming against the insides of my skull
were my fault and not Dad's.

   "I'm awake," I said.

   "Why aren't you in your room?" Dad asked.

   I had slept face down and turned over to look at him.  I had to work my
mouth free of the sticky white spit that had collected on the sides of my
cheeks.  I stared up at him, taking in his breakfast beer and red-rimmed
eyes.

   "You were in there," I said.

   "No, I wasn't."

   "All right," I said and left the living room for the calm of my bedroom.

   A shaking rattled my arms and legs as I headed upstairs, and my
quickening pulse made me wonder where my mother was.  Was she upstairs? 
She had to be.  I turned at the top stairs landing and walked at a
sprinter's pace to my room, only to stop at the threshold and almost throw
up.

   Fuck.

   There was Mom, changing my sheets.

   "Mom," I said, using her name as a way of saying good morning to her.

   "Oh, good morning," Mom said.  "Late morning." She smiled at me, the
dark circles under her eyes brightened, and there was a light in them that
I hadn't seen in a while.  "Did you have fun last night?"

   "What?" I asked.  Did I have fun doing what?  That thump-thump in my
chest started again.

   "On your date," Mom said.

   "Oh, yeah.  I did." I nodded several times, unable to look at her.  She
was wearing sweatpants that clung to her upper thighs and loosened below
her knees, and a white shirt cropped right above her bellybutton, the thin
cotton hugging her round breasts, especially the under swells and her thick
and puffy nipples.  "Why are you in my room?"

   "Oh," -"some red crept into her cheeks -""your dad may have spilled some
whiskey on your sheets," she said.  "I'm sorry that you had to sleep
downstairs."

   She didn't know.

   "Yeah, I'm sorry too," I said.  "You guys drank a lot last night, huh?"

   Mom nodded, but she smiled, showing off her pearly whites in a way that
created a glow beneath her cheeks.  She picked up my dirty, sex-stained
blankets from the floor and bundled them against her chest.  She walked
toward me and paused, smiling as I stood in the doorway staring at her.

   "Sorry," I said, shaking my head as I moved out of her way.

   "How much fun did you have last night?"

   Mom followed my eyes with hers, and I blushed, then I frowned as my
headache tapped against my skull with a bully's pointed finger-strikes
straight to the center of my forehead.

   "Don't do it again," Mom said.  "You're too young."

   Don't do what again?  My stomach turned, and the contents of my chest
fell into my stomach, followed by a cold sweat that beaded my forehead and
upper lips.  I stumbled back into my room and dropped the full weight of my
body onto my bed.

   "Do you see what happens when you drink?" Mom asked.  "You feel like
shit."

   I nodded my head.

   "I'll get you some water and some Aspirin."

   "Thanks," I said and dropped back onto my bed.

   And that was it.  She didn't remember, and I was off the hook, or so I
thought at the time.

   Later that night, about the time I was finally able to walk on steady
legs, I snail-paced my way downstairs for a late snack and lots of water.
At the foot of the stairs, I swung into the shortcut hallway leading to the
kitchen, bypassing the dining and stopping mid-hallway as the hushed sounds
of my mother whisper-shouting at my father reached my ears.

   "Yes, you did," Mom said.

   "No, I didn't," Dad said.  "You downed two bottles of wine last night.
Two and a half.  You don't know what you're talking about."

   "But you did!" Mom snapped.  "That's the one thing about last night I do
remember.  I swear that you ate it and I want you to eat it again.  Right
now, on the god damn table."

   "I -"don't -"eat -"pussy!"

   I turned around and walked through the hallway and jogged up the stairs
and sprinted to my room.  Inside, I locked my door and thought about
pushing my bed up against it.  I turned my lights off and waited.

   An hour or more after I had hidden myself away, someone tried to turn my
doorknob.  When it wouldn't open, they knocked on the door.

   "Go away," I whispered so low that I had trouble hearing my words. 
"Just go away."

   "Travis," Mom said through the door.  She hadn't spoken in a loud voice,
but it wasn't soft either, nor as sharp as I had expected.  "Open the
door."

   "Go away," I said again, louder this time, but still only loud enough
for my ears.

   "Now," Mom said.

   Sighing and with a heart that could no longer take the various speeds I
had put it through over the last day, I stood and walked to my door.  I
opened it but left the light off.  Mom flicked on the hallway light switch
just outside of my door.  We stood there, staring at each other.

   Mom's eyes looked into mine.  She had set her jaw, and her lips crossed
her mouth in a flat line.  Her green eyes burned into me, seeing everything
there was to know about me and who I was and what I was capable of.  I
hunched my shoulders and bowed my back.  My knees bent, and I pulled
everything in toward my body.  Mom watched the shimmer form in my eyes, and
then her face softened and she tilted her head to the side before shaking
it in barely-there, left-to-right-to-left movements.

   "Goodnight, Travis," Mom said, and her eyes took on a distant look
somewhere beyond me, and she laughed.  Not loud.  Not long.  It looked like
a surprised chuckle that she quickly hushed before turning around and
leaving me alone for the night.  I turned off the hallway light, closed and
locked my door, and melted into the shadows of my room for a long and
restless sleep.

   Mom's Choice

   Nothing happened for a while.  Maybe I was in the clear.  Mom and Dad
fought a little more, and Mom drank less on the weekends, but Dad stayed
consistent.  The rapid heartbeat and tremors that ran through my chest when
I was homebound calmed as my mother treated me as a mother should treat her
son, and then one day Mom caught me sucking on my girlfriend's tits on my
way down to eating her thinly-haired pussy out, and things changed.

   I hadn't locked my bedroom door.

   "Go home," Mom said to my girlfriend.

   Jenny pulled her top and skirt down and her panties up on her way out of
my room.  I stood in my room near the side of my bed wearing only my
cotton-gray boxerbriefs, the intense hard-on that I had sported moments ago
scared right out of me, turned into hanging half-limb that formed a curved
bulge resting on my nut sack.

   Mom looked me in the eyes, and then she slowly lowered her gaze down my
bare chest and the faint outline of my abdominals, crawling over my
treasure trail and lingering on my crotch, where a dark stain of pre-cum
saturated the cotton covering my junk.  She continued her gaze down my
strong legs and then back up, once again pausing at my crotch with an
unreadable expression before raising her eyes to mine once more.

   "We won't tell your father about this," Mom said.

   I nodded, and for once, my heartbeat remained calm.

   I went downstairs later that night for a glass of water.  Mom sat on the
long couch with her back against the far armrest, sitting at an angle with
knees up and together and her feet on the middle cushion.  A slick lotion
glistened on her tan limbs, all the way to the tight holes of her pink
boyshorts.  Above, she wore a tight whitish-pink shirt with a fluttering of
hearts over her breasts.  She wasn't wearing a bra -"again -"and her
nipples had punched an indentation against her cotton shirt that had almost
torn right through them.  She wore her blonde hair back and out of the way
of her large reading glasses, and in her hands was a book as thick as my
wrist.

   Dad sat in his dual-cupped, leather recliner that sat a little forward
of the far side of the couch, creating a square with my recliner and the
huge flat screen my father loved to watch.  He had his beer in one hand,
and a rocks glass full of whiskey in the other, no ice, and he was watching
a marathon of his favorite dragon-flying fantasy show on his prized,
longer-than-a-man, Smart TV.

   I walked by them, the hairs on my neck rising as Mom's eyes tracked my
movement.  I swung right around the staircase and headed straight through
the short hallway that bypassed the dining room right into the kitchen.  I
stayed in the kitchen long enough to eat some random things before grabbing
my water and heading back upstairs.

   "Just a foot rub," Mom was saying as I entered the living room.  "Maybe
the calves too?"

   "I'm watching my shows," Dad said.  "I'll touch you later."

   "I don't want to be touched," Mom said.  "I want a massage."

   I kept walking, looking at them from the corner of my eyes.  When I
swung around the newel post, Mom's voice stopped me.

   "Travis," Mom said, "you'll at least rub my calves, won't you?"

   I turned to look at her.

   Mom nodded.  "I overdid it on the treadmill today." She smiled at me and
urged me toward her with a nod of her head.  "It's just my calves."

   "Do it," Dad said, "pull your weight around here."

   "Barry," Mom snapped.

   "Just saying," Dad said.

   Mom raised her eyebrows at me, lifting them above the rim of her
black-framed reading glasses as I stood motionless at the foot of the
staircase.

   "Jesus Christ," Dad said, "it's just a pair of legs below the knees and
some feet."

   "Fine," I said and walked to the couch.

   "Turn off the light," Mom said, "so I can relax and watch the show too."

   I did as my mother asked and joined her on the couch, facing her with my
right leg crossed in front of me on the cushion and my left hanging over
the side with my foot on the floor.  The TV show, despite its massive
budget, filmed everything in shadows that receded into darker shadows,
giving our living room a theater-like atmosphere.  The finer details of my
mother's features became harder to see while Dad was a shadow with a drink
in each hand, sitting in a recliner positioned slightly forward and angled
away from me, which helped to keep my anxiety from ping-ponging through my
limbs.

   I was still looking at Dad when Mom prodded my shin with her toes.  I
looked at her.  She smiled at me and looked at the TV.  I licked my lips,
held back a sigh, and reached down, taking my mother's silky-skinned foot
in my hand.  I didn't know how to give a foot massage, but I had watched
porn scenes where the guy massaged a girl's feet right before sucking her
toes into his mouth.  I could do that, minus the toe sucking, and as that
thought ran through my head, another memory came to life.

   In the darkness beneath the sheets, where everything was hotter, and the
warmth of my mother's muff radiated around me, I lowered my head and
pressed my open mouth to my mother's smooth pussy lips, their wetness
coating my tongue as I licked her slit from top to bottom.  She released a
long sigh and closed her legs, her inner thighs touching my cheeks as I -"

   My cock jumped to life in my basketball shorts.  The thought of Mom's
pussy in my mouth sparked my taste buds to life, and a jolt of electricity
spurred my heartbeat into a giddy-up pace as the memory of her taste flared
across my tongue.  Fuck!  My cock unfurled, waking like a lazy giant at the
smell of dinner cooking.

   I took my mother's left foot in my hands and rested her heel on my shin.
With my fingers curled over the top of her foot, I pressed my thumbs side
by side and pushed them against her sole, moving them upward while digging
into the softness of her flesh.  Mom didn't make a sound, but her toes
curled.  I did my best to control my breathing as I ran my thumbs over the
sole of her foot again.

   "That's good," Mom whispered, a shiver in voice.

   I glanced at Dad.  He said nothing.  I don't think he even heard Mom
speak.  He raised his tumbler of whiskey to his mouth and sipped, his elbow
was visible, but most of his head lay hidden by its sunken positioned
against the headrest of his recliner the angle of the chair.

   Mom wiggled her toys again.

   I continued rubbing her feet, the underside with my thumbs, and the
topside with my fingers.  I tested the pressure, glancing at the side of
Mom's face and watching the left side of her lips twitch and pull and when
I dug into her foot extra hard, her eye narrowed, but she never turned her
face toward me.  After a few minutes, Mom lifted her right foot and pointed
it straight at me as if I was supposed to slide a glass slipper onto it.

   I set her left foot down, keeping her heel on the side of my shin and
took hold of her right foot, repeating the motions of my thumbs across her
sole and my fingers over the bridge.  Mom wiggled her butt on the couch,
slumping down and getting closer to me.  After several minutes of this, she
spoke.

   "Don't forget my calves," Mom said.  "Running on that elliptical machine
made them so sore."

   I frowned and spoke without thinking.  "I thought you ran on a treadmill
today," I said.

   Mom looked at me, her eyes a bit wide.  "I used both," she said louder
than she needed to.  "I did a mixed cardio routine -""

   "Shh," Dad hissed and sipped his beer.

   Mom shot me a quick glare and turned back to the TV.  I took a deep
breath, and while running my thumbs across the bottom of her foot, I gave
my mother a long look.  A very long look as memories of running my tongue
along the softer insides of her thighs rushed through my head.  Heat
bloomed throughout my cock, thickening the shaft in a circular bulge while
the head expanded forward, almost forcing a groan from my lips.

   "My calves," Mom whispered.

   I cradled Mom's ankle in my left hand and ran my right hand up the back
of her calf.  The lotion she had used earlier in the night made her smooth
skin even smoother.  Softer.  My fingers sunk into her flesh, creating
comet trails that I could not see, but I knew that they were there.  I ran
my right hand along the muscles of her calf to the back of her knee, and
Mom stretched her neck away from me to the right, her eyes closing as I
pressed harder into her flesh and dragged my fingers back down to her
ankle. I licked my lips and repeated my previous motions.

   Mom took a deep breath.  Her head faced away, but her body didn't, and I
watched her large, round breasts rise and fall, their movement slow and
measured.  Mom had been sitting with her thighs together, but on another
trip to the bend behind her knee, Mom spread her thighs apart while
bringing her feet closer together, creating a bear trap -"no -"a man trap
with the new position of her legs.

   I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry.  I worked my lips and
tongue, gathering spit as Mom flapped her knees open and less open -"never
closing them -"her movements were slight, but the effect drew my eyes down
the V created by her thighs and ending between her legs at the puffy
cameltoe pressing against her boyshorts.

   I wanted to run my fingers up to her knees and over them, and down the
backs of her thighs and along their inner pathways, down to the small bit
of round cheek that bulged beyond the leg holes of her shorts.  I moved to
her other leg, stroking her calf as Mom's breathing grew harder, and the
rise and fall of her thick-nippled breasts grew faster.

   "Hell of a show," Dad said.

   No one answered him, and he grumbled something before sipping his
whiskey, taking a full shot out of his rocks glass that had held four shots
at the beginning of the night.

   How far was my mother willing to go?  My shorts tented as another
question entered my mind: How far was I willing to go now that my mother
wasn't blackout drunk.

   Orchestra music blasted from the TV as I stroked my mother's calf, no
longer massaging as my grip changed to more of a caress.  I moved my left
hand beyond her ankle and spread the fingers of my right hand while turning
my thumb in small circles along her limb.  Mom licked her lips and dropped
her arms to her sides and placed her hands on the couch near her butt, her
fingers curling inward beneath her cheeks.

   A dragon roared, and the music grew louder.

   Dad laughed, excited.

   Mom held her breath as I paused with my hand at the back of her knee.  I
waited several seconds, not moving, and I squeezed both her ankle and her
calf, and I pulling her leg forward by the ankle and straightening it, I
ran my right hand up the back of her thigh in slow motion, ready to draw it
back at the first sign of anger from her, but none came.

   My fingers continued onward on their own.  My thoughts stalled, piling
up somewhere behind me as the moment stretched onward.  Mom licked her lips
as I reached her mid-thigh, and she bit her bottom lip as I continued
upward toward the bottom curve of her butt that hung out of her shorts.  I
was almost there, my eyes on her face, watching the small flickers of
movement at the corner of her eyes and the tightening of the tendons in her
neck, and the pull of her lips.  I had leaned forward, not that I needed
to, and as my fingertips were about to tickle the softer meat at the bottom
of my mother's ass cheek, Mom caught my fingers and gave them a squeeze.

   I tried to pull away as my heart raced, but she held me tight and
smiled, biting her lower lip.  I tugged harder against her grip, and she
held me tighter and shook her head with the barest of movements.  My cock
pulsed, and Mom relaxed her grip on my fingers.

   "My other leg, baby," Mom whispered.  "Do my other leg."

   Before I could start, Dad groaned and stood.  Mom released my fingers,
and I pulled my hand away as she drew her legs back and pressed her knees
together.  Dad hadn't taken his eyes from the screen, even as the credits
rolled.  He released a long breath, sputtering his lips as he did, and he
looked at us.

   "Calves better?" he asked Mom.

   "They're great," she said.  "You're off the hook."

   Dad looked at me.  "Good man," he said and walked out of the living room
toward the kitchen for another drink.

   Mom watched him disappear beyond the dining room before turning her eyes
toward me.  "Thank you," she said, "I appreciate how you touch me."

   I blushed, which the darkness had to have hidden.  "No problem."

   "Do you like touching me?"

   I said nothing.  Mom's smile deepened.  She nudged me with both of her
feet, wiggling her toes against my shin.  Her eyes left my face to look at
the tent that my shorts had become.

   "You like it, don't you?" she whispered.  "You like touching your
mother's body."

   "Yes," I whispered.

   "Go upstairs," Mom said, "and I'll show you how much I appreciate you
before I go to bed.  Okay?"

   I nodded my head and stood.

   "Don't let your father see that," Mom said.  She nodded at my waist and
laughed under her breath.

   I turned and jogged upstairs, my cock bobbing in my shorts the entire
way to my room.

   Mom's Appreciation

   I didn't know what to expect when I closed the door to my room and
jumped into bed, but my hard-on never went down.  My rigid piece of
fuck-meat expressed its hopes and dreams to the meaning of my mother's
words be creating an ache below my waist that needed relief and needed it
right then.  I thought about touching it, but how long would it be before
my mother came upstairs to show her appreciation?  Would she even come at
all?  Was Mom teasing me?  Was a ball-aching tease a fitting punishment for
a son who went down on his mother while she was drunk?

   Fuck.

   I didn't know.

   When the ache in my shaft drifted down to my balls, tightening my sack
and enlarging my testes to about the size of my fists, I pushed my
basketball shorts below my hips, giving my boxerbriefs more room to
stretch. After a minute of that, I sighed and pushed my briefs below my
balls, and when I was just about to -"the second before -"get up to lock my
door, my door opened with my cock hanging out!

   Mom walked full stride into my room, still dressed in her all-too-small
boyshorts and tit-hugging cotton top that turned her puffy nipples into
mouthwatering eye-candy.  I was halfway up from my bed with my feet on the
floor and my palms on the edge of the mattress, pushing myself to a
standing position while my extra-large stiffy strained forward from my
body, the skin tight and the veins angry.

   "Oh," Mom said, stopping short when she noticed my dick curving upward
like a banana.  She pushed the door shut behind her, pressing down on the
button lock before the knob cleared her hand.

   I crouched and sat on my bed, going for my shorts, but there was no way
that I was going to pull them up after how hard I had pressed my ass to the
bed.

   "Did I do that to my big boy?" Mom asked.  "It's okay, don't cover up.
Sit back and show me what you're packing.  Mommy is here to thank you for
the massage."

   This wasn't the mother that I knew.  I worked spit back into my mouth.
From somewhere deep down, a voice screamed at me to sit back and relax.  I
think the voice belonged to my dick because the mind inside of my skull
gibbered and fell silent, deciding to play dead as the woman who gave birth
to me waited for me to show her my cock.

   "Do it, baby," Mom said, urging me with a mother's confidence that
nothing was beyond my ability.  "Sit back and show me what I came to
appreciate."

   "Where's Dad?" I asked.

   Mom smiled and spoke with that smile on her lips.  "Passed out." Her
smile faded into a stern line.  "Show your dick to your mother.  Right
now."

   My body responded to the authority in my mother's voice.  I had been
listening to this woman my entire life, and even if my mind was numb at the
moment, my body fell into its natural routine of obeying maternal commands.
I swung my legs back onto the bed and leaned against my pillows and
headboard, my cock sticking straight up, thick and hard, the head beaded
with pre-cum and my balls bulging against my sack, swollen with jizz.

   "Hmm," Mom said.  She raised her right hand, cradling her chin while
pressing her forefinger lengthwise against her pursed lips.  "Big."

   I licked my lips as I waited.  My fingers had gathered up my bedspread
and curled into fists, and I had to concentrate on relaxing them as my
mother studied me.

   "Do you want to tell me about the other night?" Mom asked, removing her
hand from her chin.

   I shook my head.

   "I can't remember anything from that night," Mom said, "except your
mouth on my pussy and your tongue wiggling in my hole."

   Gulp.

   "Did you like it?"

   I nodded my head.

   Mom laughed and walked toward my bed.  I scooted back, as close to the
headboard as I could as my pillows bunched against my lumbar.  Mom laughed
again, and she bowed her back and extended her right hand, followed by her
left, crawling onto my bed with a predator's stalk as she lifted her knees
onto my mattress and continued toward me.

   "Are you nervous?" Mom asked.

   "A little," I said.

   "Don't be," Mom said, crawling up my lower body with her hands outside
of my legs.  She looked me in the eyes as she moved closer to my cock, but
when her head reached my groin, she looked down, her hair still gathered in
a spiraled bun at the back of her head, keeping it from falling over my
lap. "Momma's here."

   "I know."

   "You have a big dick, baby." Mom made a hungry sound and licked her lips
with low-toned, exaggerated wetness.  "It's natural for teens to desire
their parents, did you know that?"

   "No," I said.

   "Sons and mothers.  Fathers and daughters." Mom sighed.  "I used to
fantasize about my father, but I grew out of it." She uttered a breathy
laugh.  "I should be upset with you, but -"uhm."

   "Fuck," I gasped as Mom's warm lips swallowed the spongy head of my cock
down to the corona.

   Mom tightened her grip around my glans and sucked.  I moaned as pleasure
expanded through my cockhead and then the warm velvet of her tongue licked
the underside of my crown, her wet flesh everywhere and her saliva building
around my knob.

   "Mm, mm, mm," Mom moaned around my cock.  She pushed her head down,
allowing my girth to open her mouth.  Her spit slipped from the corners of
her lips, running down my shaft and racing her lips to my balls.

   "Fuck, Mom.  Oh, fuck."

   "Mm, umm, mm, mmph!"

   Mom paused after gobbling down half of my stiff teen-meat.  She steadied
herself, breathing hard through her nose and her nostrils flaring as saliva
dripped down my shaft.  After a long breath that she didn't release, Mom
pushed her mouth further down my prick, wiggling side to side as my meat
filled her mouth, the head compressing under the narrowness of the wet and
rubbery sphincter that led into her throat.  Down and down she went until
my missile-shaped head pushed against the smooth walls of her esophagus and
popped fully into the tunnel of her neck.

   "Umph," Mom grunted as her lips came to rest against my trimmed pubic
hairs and her chin touched my shaved sack.

   "God, Mom," I said in a shaky voice.

   I stared at the back of my mother's head with my hands on my bed,
pushing me up toward her mouth.  My entire body had gone taut at the moment
my knob entered her throat, and now she rippled her swallow-muscles along
the length of my prick, squeezing my shaft in a way that I never knew was
possible.

   "Mom," I whispered.  "Mommy, fuck."

   Mom pulled her head up from my lap, leaving a mess of saliva over my
balls and shaft.  She gasped for air, taking deep breaths as she hung her
head over my prick, then she went back for more, this time bobbing her
mouth up and down my cock-stalk, taking half of me at time.  Sometimes
more. Sometimes less.  But she never slowed as she slurped non-stop on my
incest-pop.

   I moaned and groaned, sighed and whimpered, trying to fuck my hips
upward and slide my prick deeper into my mother's mouth.  Mom pulled away
each time, never taking her lips from my crown, but never allowing me to
deep-throat her again.  She braced her left hand on my thigh and wrapped
her right fingers around the base of my shaft, holding my member in places
as she fucked her mouth over my meat.

   "Like that, baby?" Mom asked, pulling off my cock long enough to swing
my cock by its base and slap her tongue with my knob.  "Do you like Mommy's
mouth, you little pervert?"

   "I'm the pervert?" I gasped.

   "A naughty, mother-molesting little shit," Mom whispered.  "A bad" -"she
slapped my glans against her tongue -""bad -"she ringed my crown with her
tongue -""bad" -"she kissed the head -""boy."

   Mom slid her knees forward, resting on her shins in a folded up yoga
posed.  She palmed my balls with her left hand and pumped my pecker with
her right while swirling her tongue along my glans.  Pre-cum drizzled
non-stop from my piss slit, Mom licking it up like a hungry kitten slurping
up her milk.

   My balls tingled and my sacked tightened under my mother's caress.  I
gasped, and she jerked me harder while pumping her mouth up and down, her
lips meeting her fist, and sloppy wet sound filling my room.  When Mom
pulled down on my balls, stretching my sack, I moaned and dropped my head
and released the pent-up grunt that had been building within me as my
orgasm gathered into a ball of energy on the verge of exploding outward.

   "Mom, Mom, fuck, Mom, I'm going to come!" I gritted my teeth and gasped
several times.  "I'm coming, oh fuck, get off.  I'm coming!"

   Mom didn't take her mouth off my head as my body exploded in orgasm. 
Hot, sticky semen flooded into her mouth, swooshing through my shaft and
expanding the sensitive passage as it surged through it.

   "Mm," Mom sighed, low and sensual, and then she drank me up, sucking
down my come, her throat pulsing every time she swallowed a fresh load of
jizz from my balls.

   I fell back against my headboard, trembling and exhausted as m orgasm
came to an end.

   "Get off?" Mom asked, laughing as she sat up.  "Grown women swallow,
baby.  Tell that to your girlfriend the next time she's sucking your dick."

   "Thank you," I whispered.  "That was -""

   "Shh," Mom said.  "Don't try to put it into words.  This never
happened." Mom forced understanding into my brain with a measured look. 
"And tomorrow night, after I leave your room, will never have happened
either.  Understand?"

   I nodded.  Fuck yeah, I understood.

   "And baby," Mom said as she left my bed, "when you're waiting for me to
tuck you in at night, wait naked."

   Mom left, and I grabbed my cock and jerked off to what had just
happened.

   Nightly Visits

   My mother's nightly visits started right away.  The very next night, and
there was nothing subtle about them.  She always came late in the night,
after Dad had fallen into his alcohol sleep or popped a sleeping pill or
two.  The second night she came in wearing a long silk nightgown, emerald
green, with a low-cut bodice that showed off the roundness of her breasts.
My cock appreciated her nightwear by raising its head and lengthening its
body.

   "Lie down," Mom said as she walked to my bed, eyeing my prick.  "I want
another piece of that mouth of yours."

   Mom placed her hands on the front of her thighs and curled her fingers,
dragging her nightgown up her legs as she walked to my bed.  The hem had
cleared her knees by the time she reached my mattress, and she stepped up
onto my bed feet first, standing tall above me.  She moved forward, her
balance never wavering as she continued dragging the nightgown's hem up her
thighs while walking over me.  She planted her right foot next to my head,
followed by her left, and she held her nightgown bunched up around her
pussy.

   I stared upward, eyeing the inverted V of her legs as they disappeared
beneath her nightgown, the shadows between her legs hiding her cunny from
my sight, my god damn lampshade keeping the light from spotlighting her
muff for me.  I placed my hands on the insides of Mom's legs and pushed
them upward, her smooth skin soft beneath my palms, her muscle tone firm,
but not hard.  She was a woman who was still in shape, but not obsessed
with it.  When I reached her mid-thighs, Mom sat down on my mouth, her body
in a squat, my arms behind her claves and outside of her thighs so that my
hands could reach up and around her body.

   "Baby boy," Mom whispered.

   "Mm," I moaned from deep within my throat as Mom's pussy pressed against
my mouth.  Her lips spread, the tender meat melting outward over my lips as
she rowed her pussy across my face.  Wetness drenched my lips and chin, and
nose.  Cummy cream as thick as honey slid over my tongue and down my
throat, causing my cock to strain upward across my stomach.

   I ran my hands over Mom's ass and down the outsides of her thighs then
back up and around her sides and up to her breasts, their roundness filling
my palms and her big nipples brushing against my fingers.  I pinched and
rolled, and strummed her eraser-thick nubs, stopping to pull on them until
Mom whimpered and slapped my hands away.

   "Mm, baby, yeah," Mom moaned.  "Eat Mommy's pussy.  Eat it like your dad
never would."

   "Fuck, Mom," I groaned, my words spoken into the wetness of her pink
channel.  I pushed my tongue through her folds, the taste of her flooding
my mouth, the smell of her cunt filling my lungs, and sending my
cunny-licking into overdrive as I wiggled my lingual muscle all through and
around the small opening of her fuckhole.

   Mom grabbed onto my headboard and rose to her knees, sitting on my face
as she ground her hips and rubbed her pussy against my mouth.  Her thighs
squeezed my head for several seconds, and then she spread her knees wide as
she tried to feed me as much of her muff as she could -"my ability to
breathe none of her concern.

   I held onto her bare thighs, her gown around her waist, and my arms
circling her legs from beneath and around their outsides.  I pushed my
right hand between her legs, fingers down, searching her hairless mound for
her clitoral hood and the pink jewel shining at the end of it.  I found her
little nubbin of love and squeezed it between my fingertips, sending Mom's
pussy grinding into high gear as she lathered my face in her cream.

   "Baby, oh, baby, you're going to -"mm -"make me come," Mom whimpered and
started panting.  She let go of the headboard and ran her fingers through
my hair.  I pushed down hard on her clit and turned it in fast circles, and
she brought her fingers together, creating fists that pulled at the roots
to my hair.

   "Coming, baby," Mom whined, her juices flooding my mouth.  "You're
making your mother come, you little bastard!"

   And holy fuck did she ever come -"shaking and sobbing and going slack
above me.  She slid down my body, her perineum hitting the tip of my cock
and pushing my meat upward so that the upside lay cradled along the seam of
her cunt and the crack of her ass.  She slid her hands behind my head, and
tangled her fingers in my hair again and pressed her lips to mine, kissing
me and licking up her cum as our tongues danced together.

   "I," Mom said when she raised her mouth from mine, "never thought that
I'd ever kiss my fucking son like this." She touched her lips to mine
again, this time sucking on my tongue before breaking away.  "Like a whore.
Not even in my nastiest fantasies, but" -"Mom pushed her ass back against
my cock -""things change." Mom slid from my body and took my cock my cock
in her mouth, sucking my dick until I had no more cum left to her feed her
for the night.

   I saw Mom every night during our first week together.  She'd come in
wearing a nightgown of various lengths and sizes, some showing more
cleavage than others, some more shoulder, some more back and a little bit
off ass.  Mom never wore panties, and she always showed me her bald muff
after closing and locking my door.

   Mom loved it when I ate her out, and I learned that if I ate her out
first, her blowjobs came at my cock with an over-the-top intensity that
left my balls drenched in spit and her mouth full of double-sized loads of
cum that I hadn't known I could produce.

   "You like tits?" Mom had asked one night before sliding her gown off her
shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.  "Do you like these mommy-tits
I have for you?"

   "Fuck, yes," I said, admiring the heavy swells of her breasts that
lacked the perkiness of a young twenty-something-year-old.  Mom's natural
maturity was alien to my eyes, which had grown so accustomed to teenage
breasts and the bioengineered perfection that online porn provided.

   "Do you want to suck them?" Mom cupped her breasts, spreading her thumbs
and forefingers along their bottom curve as she hefted them for me.  "Do
you want to suck them like you sucked those perky little tits that your
girlfriend swings about whenever she comes over to see you?"

   Damn right I did.  I was off my bed and wrapping my arms around her
before Mom could take another step.  She laughed as my hands found the
naked cheeks of her round ass -"a bubbly bubble butt curving outward from
her frame, but contained in a small space -"and I lifted her into the air
and latched my lips around her left nipples, sucking in her areola as well
as the tit-flesh around it.

   Another night, my mother taught me how to finger her -"really finger
her. I learned where to touch her and the amount of pressure that I needed
to apply and the variations of rhythm and when to tease her clit and how to
build up a woman's orgasm slowly instead of trying to give her one in the
first few seconds of thumbing her pussy jewel.

   "You need to play around with your girlfriends like this," Mom said. 
"Learn how to touch those -"mm -"teens, and they'll spread their legs for
you for forever."

   That night ended with Mom bent over my bed, her legs spread while I
pushed two fingers in and out of her dripping wet snatch while licking her
asshole from behind.  Mom's pussy gushed with liquid gold, and she came
hard, whimpering while trying to get me to punch my tongue through her anal
ring and taste the clean flesh beyond.

   At the end of the week, Mom sat naked atop me, her knees up by my sides,
and her feet back by my thighs, and her body in the all-too-popular Child's
Pose position.  I had my hands on her ass, fingers in her crack, and she
had her pussy pressed against my cock, pushing it between our bodies as her
lips spread over the underside of my shaft, seeming to melt around my
member's thickness.

   "You want to fuck me, don't you?" Mom accused in a low-throated whisper.
"You want to fuck this mommy pussy, huh, you bad boy." Mom ground her twat
against my shaft.  "I thought I raised you better than that."

   I moaned as Mom whispered naughty fuck words to me.  She pushed herself
up, leaving her pussy on my meat as she braced her palms against my chest.
I still had her ass in my hands with some of my fingers tickling her
asshole while others played with her pussy lips.

   "You want to fuck me?" Mom asked, humping her hips forward.

   "Yes," I hissed, moaning as she spread her knees and forced her cunt
against my throbbing vein.

   "Is this a virgin dick?" Mom grabbed my cock with her right hand and
stroked the upper half of my shaft that her twat wasn't grinding against.
"Did my son keep his dick virgin for Mommy?"

   "I kept it virgin," I moaned, adding, "for you."

   Mom laughed.  She reached around with her left hand, and cupped and
rolled my balls.  She rowed her body, using her knees and the muscles in
her thighs to move forward and back, sliding her pussy over my fat cock
while jerking me off and cradling my sensitive sack.

   I was about to pop.  A buzz bloomed continuously throughout my sack,
giving my balls a weightless feeling that had me curling my toes and
digging my heels into the mattress.  I squeezed Mom's ass, helping her
grind her pussy against me as I humped my ass upward, fucking my cock
through her cunny lips as best as I could.

   "You can fuck me," Mom moaned.  "Oh, you can fuck me, baby."

   "Yes!"

   "But not tonight."

   "Mom," I moaned.  She held the underside of my knob in her fingers while
rolling her thumb over the top of my glans, the tingling in my crown caused
me to tremble.

   "The next time your father leaves for the night," Mom whispered.  "I'll
let you fuck me -"when he's not here to bother us.  Would you like that,
baby?  Do you want Mommy's pussy all to yourself for a day?"

   I answered by coming.  Mom had tightened her grip on my knob while she
spoke and had stroked downward, her other hand lightly pulsing over my
sack. Cum spurted from me, soaking my stomach and my chest, hitting my
shoulders.  Mom giggled above me, biting her lower lip while watching my
seed paint my body in liquid strings of jizz.  After, she licked me clean,
and I followed her to the door, trapping her against it as I fingered her
one more time.

   "No, baby, no," Mom groaned as my fingers worked her pussy, "I got to
-"fuck -"get back to your father."

   Her voice held no authority.  I didn't stop, and she didn't make me. 
After Mom had left, I focused my thoughts on one thing: Getting Dad out of
the house for an entire night.

   Opportunity Knocks

   The opportunity to get my mother alone for an entire night came the
following weekend, almost as if she had planned it.  My uncle was hosting a
pay-per-view boxing event, or maybe it was an experience, or maybe it was a
once in a lifetime phenomenon -"whatever it was that they advertised it as
-"Dad was going to be there to watch it.

   "You coming, boy?" Dad asked me after announcing that he'd be at Uncle
Ray's, his brother's place, to watch the fight.  He had his fists up,
mimicking a boxer's stance as he walked toward me.  "It's Jackson versus
Jackson, the great white hope versus the great black" -"he paused, confused
-""hope." He laughed.  "They both to hope to win."

   "No, I'm going to stay home," I said in a lazy monotone.  I hadn't put
my hands up, and Dad dropped his.  "They're no great boxers anymore."

   "What's that got to do with anything?" he asked.  "If you don't drive me
home, I'll have to stay the night."

   "I have things to do Saturday morning," I said, adding a shrug to my
words.

   "You'll be at home with your mother," Dad said.  "What fun is that?"

   I shrugged again because I couldn't tell him, "That's the whole damn
point."

   "Sometimes I wonder if I should have had a girl," Dad said.  "Your
cousin is into boxing."

   "She's a tomboy," I said.  "Always has been."

   "More like a tom-man with that attitude she walks around with." He
laughed.  "Am I right?"

   I couldn't help myself.  I laughed.  My dad was many things, but when he
was laughing at his own wit, he was kind of funny.

   "Yeah, but she's straight by the way," I said.

   "I don't care," Dad said.  "I'm going to be watching the fight with your
uncle and cousin, and maybe his wife, so you better not order the fight
here if you're not going to go with me."

   I nodded and couldn't wait for Friday, but Mom could because she had
decided to stall the nightly visits until after Dad had left.  She called
it, giving me something to look forward to. And to top it off, she told
me that I could see my girlfriend, but that I couldn't touch her.

   "If you want to feel what it's like going back where you came from," Mom
said, "then you'll be patient for me."

   So patient I was, but after gaining more sexual experience in one week
with Mom than in my entire dating career with Jenny, I was afraid that I
was going to come the moment that Dad left the house.  Thankfully, I
didn't.

   As soon as Dad left, I turned to Mom, who was sitting in the living room
wearing her "office clothes" which were whatever she felt like wearing when
she was working on her food and wine and lifestyle blog along with her
mid-thirties, women's core values podcast.  Today, her office clothes were
a pair of leg-hugging, knee-length white shorts with cuffed hems, and a
tight-fitting, short-sleeved white polo shirt.  It wasn't the sexiest
outfit in the world.  She looked like she should be walking in a park or
golfing, but I didn't think that she'd be wearing it for long, and I was
right, only not in the way I had hoped.

   When Mom saw me walking over to her, her eyes flickered down to where my
growing hard-on created a swinging lump that was swelling by the second. 
She tilted her head and batted her eyes at me, and asked, "Aw, is that for
me, baby?"

   I stopped.  I knew that she was messing with me.

   "We have all night," Mom said, "and I'm guessing until at least tomorrow
evening.  What's the rush?"

   "Sex is the rush," I blurted out, not thinking.

   Mom clapped her hands to her mouth and laughed, never taking her eyes
from me.  Heat welled up in cheeks, turning them red across my tan skin,
and she smiled at me and rolled her eyes.

   "I'm eager too, baby," Mom said.  "Very eager for that big dick in your
pants." She smiled.  "You should feel how wet I am for you."

   I loved the way my mother talked to me.

   "But you need a shower," she said, "and I need a shower and maybe some
wine?" She arched her eyebrow as she finished her
statement-turned-question. She had crossed her legs and sat with both hands
on her knees, her cheeks sparkling as she waited for my answer.

   "I could use a drink," I said.

   Mom laughed.  "Could you?"

   I remained silent.

   "Go upstairs and shower," Mom said.  "I'll do the same.  And Travis?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Don't bother getting dressed before you come downstairs."

   My blush cascaded down my neck and chest, and I turned and ran upstairs
straight to the hallway bathroom where I jumped in and showered, soap and
all, at a record-setting pace.  I even managed to keep my hands from
stroking my cock, something I hadn't resisted during the week leading up to
tonight.  I got out of the shower.  I dried off.  And I freshened myself
with some body spray.  I brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth with a
minty-scented mouthwash that stung, but it made me feel clean.

   I left the bathroom, wrapped in a clean white towel cinched at my waist.
Mom had said not to get dressed, but she didn't say I couldn't wear a
towel. I don't know why I wore it.  I was home and safe, and the only
person around was a beautiful woman who wanted to see me naked, but I still
wore the towel.

   Mom was in her room.  I walked to her end of the upstairs and listened
at her open door.  She had left her bathroom door open as well, and I
thought about going over there to watch her shower, but I chickened out. 
Mom wanted to drink some wine, so I went downstairs to the kitchen and
waited for her.

   I sat at the waist-high kitchen island, on a high-backed, stainless
steel and leather-cushioned stool and waited.  My thoughts wandered, and I
wondered what my mother would wear downstairs.  Something special? 
Something plain?  A robe?  Would she surprise me by walking into the
kitchen as naked as she had wanted me to be?  My cock warmed with each
vision of her that my imagination conjured, and soon, the tucked-in corner
of the towel at my waist unraveled until I had to let my cock out to
breathe.

   I wanted to touch my dick, but I waited, even as the tingling in the
spongy head rained down my glans in cascading cone-shape of pleasure.  I
thought about pouring some wine, but I had no idea what my mother wanted to
drink, and I didn't want to ruin her selection for the night.  Fuck, where
was she?

   As I waited, I tapped the granite island top with my fingers.  I bounced
my knee up and down, using the foot ring circling the stool legs to propel
my knee to higher and higher speeds.  I licked my lips and looked upward
through the ceiling.  I almost stood so that I could go and check on her.
By the time I heard my mother's humming, and soft, bare-footed steps
against the wooden floorboards, beads of ready-to-pop pre-cum had soaked my
mushroom tip.  A long sigh left my lips as soon as I saw what my mother was
wearing, and she smiled at the sound of my awe, her eyes sparkling and her
lips widening as she let me take her in.

   Mom was wearing a sheer black nylon nightie embroidered with Chantilly
lace in a floral pattern.  She spun for me, her barely-below-the-pussy hem
rising, and her thin, double shoulder straps turning into a crisscross
pattern across her back.  Mom wore no bra beneath her nightie, her big tits
and their round fullness pushing outward, while her thick nipples and puffy
areolas sang to me with mouthwatering words that begged for a sucking.  The
nylon G-string she wore dipped low on her mound, starting just above her
clitoral hood and leaving the thicker outer lips of her labia bare, and
when she had spun, my heart skipped as the floss-like string turned
invisible between her the cheeks of her round ass.

   "Do you like?" Mom asked.

   "Yes," I said.

   "Good because I bought it for you." She eyed me, the lower half of my
body hidden behind the island.  "Stand up and give Mommy a good look at how
much you like my outfit."

   I stood, the towel staying on the stool.  I walked around the island, my
big dick bobbing and swinging and dripping with the pre-cum.  I rounded the
granite island, and Mom took a deep breath as she admired my hard-on, the
color of it deep with blood and the ache of strain.

   "Oh, my," Mom said, "my little boy has an eager fuck-stick, doesn't he?"

   "God, Mom," I said.

   She laughed.  "And what does that fuck-stick want?" She smiled and
rolled her eyes.  "Some pussy?  Some" -"she lowered her voice -""forbidden
pussy?"

   "Yes," I said.  "Please?"

   "We need some wine," Mom said.  "I think we need to calm that big
bastard down."

   I waited while Mom chose an unopened bottle from her wine cabinet built
into the cupboard next to the refrigerator.  She decided on a pinot noir
and poured the dark red liquid into a pair of short and fat Burgundy
glasses, then she handed me one and raised her own.

   "Cheers," Mom said.

   I licked my lips, my heart finding a faster rhythm to beat to than a
moment before.  Liquor and beer were what flowed at my high school parties,
but I still took a long swallow, my throat working back and forth as the
tart and cherry flavor bit at the sides of my cheeks and stung my tongue.

   "Slowly," Mom whispered, putting her fingers on the round base of my
glass and pushing downward.  "Enjoy the taste.  Don't get buzzed too fast,
baby.  We've got time."

   "I know how to drink wine," I said and trying to keep the smile from my
face only made me smile wider.

   Mom nodded her head and lifted an eyebrow.  "Drink," she said, and as I
did, she reached out with her left hand and cradled the base my cock with
an underhanded grip and stroked me to my pre-cum soaked tip.

   "Mm," I moaned, missing a swallow that hit my lips and swayed back into
the glass.  "Mm, Mom, fuck."

   "No one touches you like your mother does, do they?"

   "No one does," I said.

   Mom squeezed my knob, and I upended the glass of wine, swallowing the
rest and setting it on the counter.  Mom laughed, and her eyes swung from
me to the glass as some memory drifted across the colors of her eyes.

   "You can only drink with me," Mom said.  "Okay, baby?  Only with me
until you turn twenty-one."

   "Okay," I said and added, "I promise," before she could ask me for my
promise.

   Mom smiled and stroked her fingers down my cock and beyond, sliding her
palm down to my balls and cupping them, caressing them, rolling her fingers
over each cum-filled testis until the tingling in them threatening to
explode all over her forearm, but she pulled back as if sensing this.

   "Another glass," Mom said, and she drank the rest of hers and held it
out for a refill.

   Mom stroked my cock as I drank my wine.  She sipped hers, still having
half a glass by the time I had finished.  She smiled the entire time I
drank, giving me her you rascal smirk and stare that she always gave me
when she couldn't punish me for doing something naughty, but entertaining.

   "Turn around and put your hands on the counter," Mom said after I had
set my glass down.

   I turned around.  The heat from the wine had reached my cheeks, turning
them a slight shade of red that warmed my flesh.  I placed my hands on the
granite island that cut the kitchen in two, and I had to step back,
sticking my butt out so that my cock wouldn't smack into the counter's
edge. Mom pressed her body against mine, and her silky shift tickled me as
her waist pushed into my ass.  She had her glass of wine in her right hand,
and she gave the side of my ass cheek a slap with her left hand before
sliding it around my waist, stopping just above the trimmed hairs covering
my mound.

   "What do we have here, baby?" Mom asked.  "What do you have for your
mother to play with tonight?"

   The wine turned fuzzy inside of me, and I said, "My cock."

   "Oh?" Mom asked, patting my waistline.  "And what kind of mother wants
to play with her son's cock?"

   "The best," I whispered, my cheeks glowing red-hot.

   "The best," Mom said, and she pushed her hand below my waist, taking the
root of my prick in her hand.  "The best mom in the world?"

   "Yes," I gasped as she stroked my shaft.  "The fucking best mom ever."

   Mom set her wine on the counter in front of me.  She lowered her left
hand to my balls and gave my heavy sack a squeeze.  I shivered, my thigh
muscles trembling as she reached around with her right hand and wrapped her
fingers around my shaft.

   "So thick, baby," Mom whispered against my back.  "So hard." She planted
small kisses along my shoulder blades.  "And it's all for Mommy?"

   "Yes," I gasped, staring down at my mother's hand holding me tight. 
Fuck!  How many sons have dreamt of their mother's touching their dicks? 
"It's all for you, Mom.  All of it."

   "I want you to come for me," Mom said.  "I'm going to pump the first few
loads out of your balls so this big dick can last in my pussy.  Okay,
baby?"

   "Yeah," I moaned.  "Whatever you say."

   "Fuck my hand while jerk you off," Mom said.  "Show Mommy what you're
going to put her pussy through."

   Fuck, listening to my mother talk like that caused my cock to swell in
her hands.  She chuckled and squeezed my rod, then slid her hand up to my
knob and palmed the tip, collecting the pre-cum spewing from my dick.  With
sticky-wet sounds, she rubbed the clear lube-like liquid over my shaft then
lifted her hand, palm up.

   "Spit," Mom said, her lips moving against my back.  "Get my hand
slippery for your big-boy dick."

   I gathered my saliva.  It wasn't hard, not with the wine and the way my
mother's words rode my flesh.  I pursed my lips and let a clear wad of spit
fall dead-center into her palm.  Mom purred, and rubbed her thumb across
her fingers and lowered her hand, taking hold of my rigid flesh and
squeezing my shaft and forcing my spit to squelch outward between her
fingers.

   "Fuck my fist," Mom said.  "Fuck your mother's fist."

   I moaned and pumped my hips, forcing my shaft through her grip that
tightened and tightened around my meat.  Mom caressed my balls with her
other hands, rolling them and pulling down on my sack, the slight
stretching of my scrotum caused whimper-like breaths to leave my lungs.  A
tingling built up in the tip of my shaft, and a buzzing force of pleasure
grew deep within my core, promising that upon its release it would surge
through my cock and erupt from my glans with enough strength to leave me
unconscious.

   "Mom, fuck, oh fuck," I panted, then grunted, my voice hoarse and my ass
a blur as fucked my dick through her cock-jerking fingers.

   "Come, Travis," Mom said.  "Come, baby.  Come for your dirty, nasty
mother."

   I moaned as tremors shook my body.

   "Give me that big load," Mom whispered.  "Give me that taboo cum."

   I groaned as my body released the pleasure growing within me.

   "Hot and sticky and thick and tasty -""

   "Fuck," I grunted, "I'm coming."

   Mom held my balls, massaging them with a soft touch as an endless rope
of cum surged through my shaft, and shot out on the kitchen island.  My
body tensed, the tendons in my neck going taut and I clenched my jaw shut
as I covered the countertop in thick strings of milky-white cream.  Mom
jerked my cock the entire time, her movements fast and frantic, splashing
my cum everywhere and creating a mess that we'd have to clean before Dad
came home the next day.

   "Fuck, oh fuck, Mom, fuck," I said, panting and shaking as Mom slowed
her movements across my shaft.

   "That my boy," Mom said.  "That's my darling little boy."

   She let go of my cock and balls and put her hands on my hips, getting
cum on me, but I didn't care.

   "Are you ready for some pussy, baby?" Mom asked.  "Are you, Travis?  Are
you ready for some family-pussy and incest love?"

   "Yes," I said and turned around, my cock hanging, but still
three-quarters of the way hard in a nearly straight line of prick-meat. 
"I'm ready, Mom.  I'm fucking ready."

   "Then let's go upstairs because Mommy needs your dick."

   Making Mom All Cummy

   "Are you sure about this, Travis?" Mom asked.

   I paused, and then I noticed the light in her eyes and the smile on her
face, and her coy, bottom-lip nibble as she waited for my reaction.

   "I'm positive," I said.

   "There's no going back," Mom whispered.  "Once a mother and her son
fuck, there's no going back."

   "We've gone too far already," I said, "and I don't ever want to go
back."

   "Prove it to me," Mom said.  "Put your mouth between my legs and prove
to me you want this pussy."

   Fuck.

   Mom was standing in the middle of her room, her back to the foot of her
double king-sized bed and she walked backward and sat down on the mattress
when her legs touched the edge of the bed's frame.  She leaned back on her
palms and spread her legs, her sheer nightie above her waist and her tiny
black G-string digging into the center groove between her pouty pussy lips.

   "Mom," I groaned, staring between her legs, and the sight of her
barely-there panties trying to hold back her muff turned my cock into an
iron rod all over again.

   "Be quick," Mom said, pushing her G-string down her legs and kicking
them off her feet.  "Or your dick is going to start to ache, and we don't
want that, do we, baby?"

   "No," I said, shaking my head as I moved forward and lowered myself to
my knees without breaking stride.

   I knelt between my mother's thighs and grabbed her behind her knees,
pushing her long legs upward and apart and tilting her pussy toward my
mouth so that her butt hung balanced on the edge of the mattress.  The
sight of both of her holes made my cock throb.  Mom fell back onto her
elbows but kept her upper body angled up from the bed as she watched me
lower my mouth to her flesh.

   I kissed the inside of my mother's thighs, right then left -"nibbled and
licked the softer flesh that descended into the hollow space before curving
into the plump meat of labia.  I licked around her folds as the scent of
her pussy bloomed, filling the air around me with the thick aroma of a
woman in heat.  Her inner lips swelled as I licked her mound and traced the
folds bordering her clitoral hood and the jewel it protected.  My tongue
left layers of dampness across her flesh, and the more I teased the meat of
her muff, the more her pussy opened for me until the pink seam running down
the length of her cleft appeared wet and ready for my attention.

   "I've -"mm -"turned you into a pussy tease," Mom whispered, her
breathing heavy.

   I smiled, my cheek against Mom's thigh.  She was still looking down at
me, and I extended my tongue and pressed the flat of my lingual muscle
against the bottom of her slit and licked upward, spreading her pussy lips
open as I wetly tasted the line dividing her labia in two.

   "Oh, yeah," Mom sighed.

   I licked Mom's pussy with as much love as I could manage.  My tongue
swam around her clit, pushing it side to side, and pressing down on the
soft nub and turning it in circles.  I sucked on her clit, pulling it
outward in a rubbery stretching of flesh before letting it snap back to the
curve of her muff.  I slid my right hand down the back of her thigh and
collected her juices across my middle finger, running it lengthwise across
her slit while turning it in half circles.  Mom panted the entire time,
giving me sharp hisses and intense oohs and ahs at low volumes focused
in my direction -"her expressions primal.

   Mom's cream ran freely from her liquid insides, brightening her pink
meat until it shined.  My licking created slurping sounds that didn't
change when I pushed the tip of my middle finger through the softness
between her legs, right into her little velvet hole.  It was like her pussy
was kissing my finger and Mom whimpered as I touched her insides and she
whined when I curled my fingertip against the underside of her mound,
rubbing and petting her G-spot just the way she had taught me.

   The first signs of Mom's orgasm came: the clenching of her inner
muscles, the rising heat beneath her pink, the thick rush of her juices
slipping from deep within her.  Her moans turned into whimpers, and her
face twitched, a pleading expression masking her features as her body
bucked and trembled, doing its best to surrender her cum to me with a taste
of orgasmic bliss.

   Mom cried out when she came, wrapping her legs around my neck and
grabbing a handful of my hair with one hand as she balanced her body on the
other.  She bucked and moaned, unable to control her wild thrashings and I
slurped up as much of her cunny juice as I could.  Mom left my face soaked
in her cum, a dripping wet mess that smelled of pussy and cream, the
sweetest thing a mom could do for her son as he ate her out.

   Mom dropped onto the bed, panting and breathing hard, her body loosened
in the afterglow of her release.  I stood and wiped my face, then rubbed
the pussy juice that I had found there on my shaft.  I was more than ready
to enter the tiny hole between my mother's legs and return home.

   Making Love to Mom

   I had visions of slipping my dick right up Mom's smooth snatch and going
to town, fucking her like a mad man whose movements blurred together, but
that didn't happen.  Nutting all over the kitchen island, coupled with the
wine buzzing and fuzzing my mind, had soothed me.  Watching my mother come
as hard as she ever had before had helped calm me as well, and I was ready
to make love to the woman who had given me life, rather than fucking her
like a virgin during his first time.

   Mom's tan legs dangled off the end of the bed.  I leaned down, sliding
my right hand under her butt and taking hold of her left ass cheeks.  Her
meaty-softness filled my palm while the firm, matured muscles beneath her
skin fought against the pressure of my hand, giving me texture and balance
to play with.  I lifted Mom off the bed, and crouched above her, and
carried her toward her headboard using one hand and my knees.  Her nightie
rode up her body, leaving her flat stomach bare, the center of her tummy
soft and flat and outlined by a frame of harder muscle.  I set her head and
shoulders on her large pillows and placed my hands on either side of her
head, outside of her shoulders, my chest close to her breasts and my mouth
near her lips.

   "You're turning into a romantic," Mom whispered, moving her head side to
side, her lips feathering mine and my cheeks while her breath rolled across
my skin.  "You're going to make love to me.  Is that your plan?"

   How could this woman read my mind?

   "Yeah," I whispered.  "I want to feel myself all the way through you."

   "Then take your time, baby," she said, "Mommy isn't going anywhere."

   I lowered my lips to hers while sliding my right hand down her left side
and grabbing the hem of her gown.  I pulled it upward as our mouths pressed
together and our tongues danced, our kisses interrupted only when I pulled
the nightie from her body, leaving my mother naked beneath me.  My cock,
still hard, lay on her mound, the underside near my balls pressing down
onto her clit and pushing her soft folds toward her thighs.  Mom squirmed
beneath me, rotating her hips and wiggling the slope of her mound against
my shaft.

   The wetness between my mother's lips coated my cock, and Mom reached
between our bodies, cradling my shaft in her hand and stroking my flesh up
and down, pulling my skin over my knob and pushing it back down toward the
root.  I pulled my hips back, driven by instinct, and Mom lifted her pussy
upward while pulling my cock downward, the missile-shaped head rubbing her
clit and spreading the thick flesh of her outer labia as it searched for
her pink hole.

   For one moment I was parting the Virgin Mary like robes beneath her
clitoral nub and the next I was sinking into her softness, the tender heat
from her cunny ring left me trembling.

   "Easy, baby," Mom whispered, her voice catching as her lips stretched
around me and her inner walls strained against my girth.  "Mommy's got you.
Enjoy it, baby.  Enjoy Mommy's love."

   There was no way I couldn't.  I moaned as my cock made its way through
Mom's tunnel, her dewy wetness, and slippery stickiness warming my prick
and licking at my crown.  I gasped when I reached the halfway point, and
her pussy folds bulged around my shaft, Mom moaning right along with me,
and she grunted as I went deeper into her muff than Dad ever could.

   "Mm -"uh," Mom groaned as the spongy tip of my prick mashed against the
back of her cunny canal, jabbing at a wall of softness and digging in,
trying to stretch her tunnel backward as far as it would go.

   "Fuck, Mom," I whispered.  "Fuck, you feel good."

   "You fill me up, baby," Mom moaned.  "So fucking much."

   My chest pressed against her breasts, and her thighs lay spread wide,
her knees almost to the bed with her feet rubbing the back of my legs.  Mom
rubbed her hands up and down my sides and back, hugging me and rolling her
pussy over my shaft several times, then she slid her hands down to my ass
cheeks and grabbed onto the cheeks, digging into my butt in a way no mother
was supposed to touch her son ass.

   "Fuck me," Mom panted.  "Mm, pull that big dick out of me and fuck it
back in."

   I pushed myself up on my arms and did as my mother said, rolling my hips
back and pumping them forward, my ass moving up and down as my cock pumped
the steamy wetness between Mom's legs.  How could a woman be so soft and
hot on the inside?o How could she make my cock tingle with a squeezing of
her inner walls or a lick of her honey-slick heat as it rolled around my
glans?  I spread my knees and pulled out and pushed in, out and in, fucking
my mother with a slow and steady pace, not wanting to drive in too hard and
come too quickly.  Even with my earlier orgasm, a tingling and tightening
were already building within my balls.

   "Mm, oh, mm, yeah, mm," Mom moaned beneath me.  She looked into my eyes
and licked her lips, opening and sliding her tongue from her mouth and
trying to reach me.  I lowered my head and pushed my tongue against hers,
our lips meeting as we kissed and fucked, moaned and groaned.  Her pussy
clung to my prick, and cream gathered between her legs, announcing her
eagerness to come with loud, slippery music that grew slicker and wetter by
the thrust.

   My heart beat hard against my chest.  Mom's nipples dug into my skin. 
My balls tingled, and a rush of pleasure raced through my cock, feathering
my tip and circling my corona, and rimming my glans.  My breathing sped up,
and Mom's body rocked beneath mine as her moans turned to whimpers and her
pussy pulsed around my shaft, each grip along my rod stronger than the
last.

   Neither of announced our orgasm.  We came hard, and our blissful,
cum-releasing explosions collided together.  Our bodies tightened, and Mom
clamped her legs around the back of my thighs while I pushed as deep into
her pussy as I could, pressing my balls against her ass and locking our
pubic mounds together -"she whimpered.  My cock convulsed, spurting out
ropes of cum into the liquid well between her legs.  Mom's pussy juices
flowed over me, creating a wet mess between our bodies that left our groins
bathed in heat.  The shaking and whimpering, gasping and trembling of our
bodies came to a slow end and orgasms faded away, leaving both of us
panting and pressed together and sensitive to the touch.

   When I slid to the side of her body, Mom hugged my cock with her pussy
muscles, stretching my softening shaft and sucking out the last of my cum.
I shivered, and she trembled one more time, then she grabbed my hand and
squeezed it.

   "Thank you, baby," she said.  "Mommy needed that."

   Mommy. My mom.  My flesh and blood and a woman I was never supposed to
go back inside of.  My cock stopped shrinking, staying semi-hard, and the
head twitched, determined to go fully erect again for this beautiful woman
that I couldn't live without.

   "I love you, Mom," I whispered so low that I was sure she hadn't heard
me.

   But she said, "I love you too," and squeezed my hand again.

   After a minute of catching our breaths, Mom let go of my hand and took
the spongy length of my shaft her hand and gave it a squeeze.  It wasn't
long before I was ready to go again.

   The Rest of the Night

   I was a horny teenager, but Mom was a horny woman in her late thirties
who knew what she wanted and what she needed, which meant that she tested
my stamina to its breaking point.

   Mom didn't give me much time before she got me hard again.  It wasn't
difficult for me to swell and thicken beneath her touch -"that time -"and
Mom made me rest on my knees and sit back on my heels as she faced away
from me and sat down on my cock, her pussy pushing inward as my head
expanded the cleft between her thighs.  I held my mother by her hips and
bounced her up and down on my dick, letting her control the pace as I aided
her movements.  When Mom sat down all the way, merging her round ass to my
hips, she'd ground her pussy in circles around my cock while telling me to
fuck myself into as hard as I could by flexing my ass, which seemed to
swell my cock within her without going much deeper than I already was.

   "Uh," Mom grunted each time my knob squished into her guts.  "Uh, that's
rough.  Uh, yeah.  Mm, fuck.  Mm, baby, I can feel your knob -"fuck!"

   We'd grind against each other, slow and deliberate, then Mom would pick
up the pace, bouncing up and down on my cock in short spurts before sliding
all the up to my crown and slipping back down for long strokes into her
creamy muff.  I reached around Mom's front and cupped her smooth mound, my
fingers on her clit, and I worked her pleasure-nub hard and fast, and she
released her juices over my balls.

   Mom came first, shaking and grabbing my wrist as she humped her pussy in
wave-like motions across my prick, using my knob to pull out every last bit
of cum from her dripping snatch.  When she sat back in my lap, I pushed her
forward onto her hands and knees, grabbed her hips and hammered her twat
until she fell onto her elbows and then flat onto her tits.  Her arms
spread wide.  Possessed, I slid my arm around her front, taking her head in
my hand while holding onto her right hip, and I pummeled her pussy with
long strokes.  I didn't pull out when I came, adding another helping of
jizz to the sticky mess between her thighs -"that she'd later make me clean
up with my tongue.

   We rested and out of the corner my eyes I saw the rosy blush of her
puffy nipples, and with my wet cock dangling between my legs, I rolled onto
my mother and sucked her tits into my mouth.  I focused on one nub while
playing with the other, then switched, then grasped both of them by their
base and coned them upward, creating two rising peaks for me to suck on,
and chew on, and cover in spit until Mom needed my cock again.  Mom rode me
while I thumbed her swollen jewel at the apex of her pussy lips, helping
her reach several small orgasms that tightened her jaw and made her look
away as she sobbed through her orgasms, her eyes shimmering.

   Later still, we walked naked downstairs, and the central air's breeze on
my balls created goosebumps across my flesh.  They rose like dominoes in
reverse across my body.  In the kitchen, we ate and drank more wine.  Mom
held the bottle to my lips and tilted the bottom upward until there was
nothing left for me to swallow.  The extra alcohol reignited my buzz and
then some, and when Mom broke out the aged brandy and let me enjoy a
snifter with her, my buzz transformed into a full-on drunk with a lack of
teenage restraint.

   Mom laughed as I kissed her with more pressure than before, and she
panted with the hint of amusement as I turned her around and pressed her
against the kitchen island.

   "Yeah, baby, huh?" Mom asked, daring me.  "You gonna fuck me, baby?  You
gonna give Mommy a drunk fucking?" I hadn't heard it in her voice then, but
I'd remembered later that she had spoken with a bit of slur to her words
and she had had a glaze in her eyes.

   On the couch, I sucked on my mother's tits some more, and she went down
on me again as I sat against the backrest with her body angled to my right,
on her knees so that I could reach around her ass and play with her
pussy-crease as she gulped me down.  Drinking more wine, she grabbed the
remote and turned on our SMART TV.  She navigated to Pornhub, and we
watched videos of Katie Morgan and Lisa Ann, Shay Fox and Alexis Fawx,
women that Mom knew by name, but I only recognized them by their tits and
asses and cocksucking talents.

   Fucking hell, what a night, but it wasn't over yet.

   Some time before bed, I had to ask Mom something that I hadn't forgotten
about but hadn't wanted to think about much either.  I asked, "Why were you
wearing a leash when I saw you in my bed?"

   "The night you went down on me," Mom said, laughing.

   "Yeah."

   "Baby," Mom said, turning on her side to face me.  She put her hand on
my cheek, caressing me before moving her hand down to my throat.  "Do you
want to put a leash on me?" Mom tightened her fingers, but only just.

   I remained quiet.

   "Do you?" Mom slid her hand down to my chest as the rhythm of my heart
pulsed in double-timed beats with hardly a break between them.  "Do you
want to leash your mother?"

   "Maybe," I said, my mouth drying.

   "Travis," Mom said, getting up and sitting astride me, her legs tucked
under her butt and drifting away from her body.  "Let me have my little boy
a little while longer." The wine made her voice slow and thick.  Sensual.
"After college, you can try to collar me, and if you can, I'll do whatever
you want, whenever you want, and however you want." She lowered her mouth
toward my cock.  "But for now, let Mommy have this dick the way she wants
-"mm."

   We made love one more time in the morning, body to body, skin to skin,
with me on top and Mom's legs open and her knees fanned out to the sides.
She gave me her pussy, and I took it, and we barely managed to separate
before Dad made it home.

   Taking Risks

   Mom and I developed a routine of nightly visits and behind doors sex
that lasted until my nineteenth year before things began to change.  No. 
That's wrong.  Things had already started to change in my house, but I
hadn't noticed it until it was too late to reverse the effects of our
incestual relationship, not that I would have, had someone given me a
choice.

   A rift had formed between Mom and Dad.  They didn't talk as much, and
that was strange because Dad didn't drink as much as he once had.  He still
popped an Ambien to help him sleep when he had to, and he enjoyed his
nightly whiskey and beer but rarely did he catch a buzz, and he saved
getting drunk for Fridays and Fridays only.  He also started to ignore me
as Mom, and I spent more time together, our closeness often making him
shake his head and ask questions about my girlfriends.

   "If you spent more time with them, maybe they'd stick around longer,"
Dad had once said, the words tumbling from his lips in a grumble of
low-throated words.

   "I'm young," I said.  "I don't need to find the one right now, do I?"

   "I did at your age."

   I didn't have anything to say about that, but I couldn't move for a
second, afraid that my body would tremble as a hollow heaviness descended
upon my insides from the skull down and rode bones as I tried to become
smaller.

   "I'm not going to listen to you complain about Mom," I said.

   As I left him and the conversation, Dad called out, "When was the last
time you heard me complain about your mother?"

   I didn't know.  I couldn't remember.

   Mom's nightly visits blended into our days, and we'd make love or fuck,
before Dad came home from work, depending on our mood.  Mom taught me how
to flirt, and we did this outside of my bedroom when Dad was away, but then
our behavior continued when he was at home, but in a different room, and
then when he was in the same room with us, but with discretion.  This led
to fucking during the evening, when Dad was home, and Mom was never wetter
than when she thought Dad could walk in on us unannounced.  And the more
that we got away with, the more that we tried to get away with, and the
danger became alluring -"reckless.

   One Sunday afternoon, while my dad, his brother, and my shorthaired,
tomboy cousin, were watching football in the living room, I joined Mom in
the kitchen.  She was sampling sparkling wines and liquor combinations for
one of her weekly blog posts, this one on titled Flavor That Mimosa, You
Bad Bitch! The exclamation point was necessary.  It was the first article
in a series of brunch-related drinks that Mom was posting to her site.

   Along with various sparkling wines, Mom had expensive liqueurs on the
breakfast table as well as fruit cut into wedges.  The light slanting into
the kitchen through the glass of the sliding door illuminated Mom with an
angelic purity as she sat the table wearing a pleated white tennis skirt
and a sporty, Lycra short-sleeved polo shirt with the three-buttoned
placket below her neckline undone.

   I stood on the opposite side of the kitchen island, sipping from a glass
of water while the distant sounds of a football game drifted throughout the
house from the living room.

   "Mom?" I asked, noticing how her nipples created mini hills against her
top.  How many mothers in the world dressed like that for their sons?

   "Yes?" she asked, not looking at me as she sipped from a champagne
flute, tasted her drink, and looked upward as if thinking and then she
scribbled some notes on a pad of paper next to her laptop.

   "How much does being a blogger pay?"

   Mom laughed and looked at me, her drink held up and out in an almost
aristocratic manner.

   "Looking for a career?"

   I rolled my eyes.

   "Depending on how popular it is," Mom said, "it pays enough."

   "How popular is your blog?"

   "It's popular enough to put you through college and pay for my half of
everything." She smiled at me.  "And then some."

   "So, you're a hell of a writer?"

   Mom shrugged.

   "I'm a just a friend on the internet," Mom said, "that women could see
themselves being friends with off the internet."

   A string of cheers erupted from the living room, and a minute later my
cousin walked into the kitchen, dressed in a cropped jersey and basketball
shorts, her flat tummy outlined by the frame of her oblique muscles.

   "Just getting some beers," Mandy said.  "Dad said I could have another."

   "Drink as many as you're allowed," Mom said.  "It's your hangover."

   Mandy smiled and grabbed three beers from the fridge.  On the way back
to the others, she reminded Mom that they were going to go dress shopping
for prom in a few weeks.  I watched their brief exchanged, more focused on
the horizontal U of Mom's breasts as they hung above the vertical line of
her stomach.

   "You shouldn't stare at my tits so hard," Mom said when Mandy had left
the kitchen.  "Your uncle and your father may be blind, but your cousin is
not."

   "Think she could tell?" I asked.

   "She's a girl used to watching men as they watch her friends." Mom
shrugged and sipped on a second mimosa.  "Grown men like tomboys.  Young
men like tits."

   "I was looking at your legs too," I said, "And your too-short tennis
skirt.  Do you think she noticed that?" I turned my head toward the dining
room and the corner that rounded into the spacer before the living room. 
"They'll be out there a while before they need to re-beer." I walked out
from behind the kitchen island.  "Maybe I should read some of what you
wrote."

   Dad's clap at something amazing rang throughout the house.

   "Try one of these mimosas," Mom said.  "Tell me what you think of it."

   I walked up behind Mom's chair.  She held the mimosa in left hand up and
back, and I plucked it from her fingers after a smooth brush of her hand. I
held it up, and contemplated the orange drink, then tasted it by downing
what Mom had not drunk.

   "Smooth," I said.  "Orangey."

   "That's the Grand Marnier floater," Mom said.  "But, how did it taste.
Describe it to me.  What did it feel like going down your throat?"

   "Wet," I said.  "And I did describe it.  I said it tasted smooth and
orangey."

   "I'll improvise," Mom said, laughing.  She took the champagne flute from
me and set it off to the side, in front of her bottle of Grand Marnier. 
"'Smooth and orangey.' I'm going to write that down.  The ladies will get a
kick out of your appreciation for a brunch tradition."

   "Let me take a look," I said, but my eyes made it no further than the
front of Mom's shirt and the open collar exposing the tan flesh of her
upper chest and down into the crease created by the inner swells of her
breasts pushing together.

   "What do you think?" Mom asked, whispering the question to me.

   "They look great," I said.

   "Travis, look at my computer."

   There was something in her voice that made me look up from her tits. 
Mom had changed the screen while her breasts distracted me, bringing up a
private picture that she had let me take of her.  In the picture, Mom stood
with her profile to me, wearing a long emerald nightgown that would have
reached her ankles, but she was holding it up around her waist, baring the
full curve of her thick ass cheek and the strong shape of her thigh.

   "You should post that to your blog," I said and put my hands on Mom's
shoulders.  "You can tell them that I took it and that afterward I slipped
my rock-hard dick into your soft pussy from behind, and every inch that I
slid through the silk between your legs made me tremble."

   "Now that's how you describe something," Mom said, laughing and closing
the window.  "You have your copies of the pictures" -"she nudged me with
the back of her head -""maybe you should go look at them before you get us
into trouble."

   "What kind of trouble?"

   Mom didn't answer as I slid my left hand from her shoulder to the front
of her throat, while my right went to her chin and tilted her head back. 
Mom gave me half a smile, and I lowered my lips to hers in a
presed-together-kiss without a pucker.  I pulled Mom's head to the right
and kissed her neck several times, making her back arch and breasts push
forward.

   "As long as Dad stays in the living room, we'll be fine," I whispered
into my mother's ear.  "We just have to be quiet."

   Mom uttered a soft groan as I took her ear between my teeth and nibbled,
playing with her flesh-covered cartilage and licking my tongue across her
lobe.  I ran my right forefinger across Mom's lips, and she opened her
mouth, catching my fingertip and biting down on it, then licking it before
I could pull my hand away.

   "Baby," Mom whispered.  "Your cousin is here.  Your uncle."

   "Dad is keeping them busy," I said, slipping my finger into her mouth
again.  "And Mandy won't come back until her daddy wants another beer." I
slid my left hand down Mom's throat and to the left and down her side,
slipping my fingers over the side-swell of her breast and cupping the heavy
mound from underneath.  "You know what it's like being a Daddy's girl."

   "You little shit," Mom whispered around my finger, swirling her tongue
over my digit and coating it with saliva.  I pulled it from her mouth,
giving her cheek a little fishhook that she chased around -"trying to bite
me as my finger cleared her lips.

   I dropped my right hand to the side of Mom's breast and squeezed, then
pushed her tits together as I rolled my thumbs over her Lycra-covered
nipples from above.  Mom hung her head then tilted her chin upward and to
the side, her closed eyes locked in concentration.  I caught her thick
nipples and pinched them and turned them, using just enough pressure to
make her utter tiny "Ah" gasps.

   I could hear the staticky cheer of the football game coming from the
living room.  My cousin said something, her father agreed, and my dad made
a few comments, but all of that hung in the background of my hearing as my
heart thudded against my chest and excitement surged through the shaft of
my cock.  My member strained against my basketball shorts by the time I had
released my mother's breasts and slid my hands down her sides.

   "What kind of panties are you wearing?" I asked, whispering into my
mother's ear, my lips touching her lobe and behind the hinge of her jaw.

   "I'm not," Mom sighed.  "No panties today."

   I left a wet kiss against Mom's neck before asking, "Did you do that for
me?"

   "Yes," Mom said, the word leaving her lips in a helpless moan.

   "Show me." As the words left my lips, I slid my fingers over my mother's
stomach, her muscles bunching and flexing, then I slide my right hand
between her legs and Mom arched her back, stretching her torso upward.  Her
tits pushed outward, her twin nipples dark beneath the white stretchiness
of her shirt and I reached up with my left hand to play with her breasts
again.

   "It's dangerous," Mom mumbled.  "It's not just your father here -"mm
-"you know?"

   I had cupped her pussy through her skirt as she talked, pressing the
cloth against the pouty pie between her thighs.  Mom rolled her hips
forward and back, her body wavering as she tried to get to my fingers
through the crush of fabric between her legs.

   "Show me, and I'll lick it," I said.  "I'll suck on your lips.  I'll
push my tongue between your folds." I forced a small amount of pressure
between her legs.  "I'll kiss your clit and make you taste your juices off
my lips."

   "You fucker," Mom sighed.

   She grabbed one of her pre-poured mimosas, the one in front of the Vodka
Chopin, and downed the glass in a hurry.  After setting the glass down, Mom
pushed my hands from her body, having to fight my grip on her left tit
before I let go.  Once free of me, she turned sideways in her chair,
balancing her left arm on the table and her right across the top rail of
her spindle-backed chair.

   Mom spread her legs and said, "Do it."

   "Listen for our family," I whispered, emphasizing that "F" word.

   "God, help me," Mom sighed.  "I love it."

   I dropped to my knees in front of her and grabbed her hips, pulling her
butt to the very edge of the seat.  Mom spread her legs wide, leaning back
and hanging onto the table and the back of the chair.  I grabbed her
skirt's pleated hem in my fingers, and I massaged the cotton blend between
my thumb and fingertips, the musky scent of her pussy thick and peach-like,
reaching my nose before I flipped her skirt onto her tummy.

   "Mm," I said, the hungry sound leaving me in a long-awaited sigh.

   "Quick, baby," Mom whispered.  "We don't know when -"ah!  Ooh, fuck."

   I had taken her pussy in my mouth, slurping her juices as I wetly licked
my tongue through the bottom of her slit and up to her clit, using the
naughty, pussy-eating sounds for effect.  Mom dropped her head back and
lifted her knees, her feet coming off the floor as she offered her pussy up
to my mouth.  I sucked her left inner lip between my lips and pulled, then
her right one, using slow movements that drew-out the sensations coursing
through the core of her body.  Thick cream rewarded my patience.

   I could lose myself in my mother's muff, but we had family over and who
knew how long it would be before one of them wanted another beer.  I
fastened my lips to my mother's clit and sucked it into my mouth, making
her tremble.  Mom spread her legs further apart, her knees rising, and she
planted her bare feet onto my shoulders as the smooth, vanilla pie between
her legs parted and the creamy pink filling within begged for my tongue.

   "Mm, yeah, mm," Mom moaned, biting her lower lip to stay quiet.

   I curled my left arm around the outside of her right thigh and grasped
the bend of her hip into her thigh.  The fingers of my right hand moved
upward between Mom's legs, and I plunged them into her dripping wet
softness and pushed them all the way home, not stopping until my mother's
warm, velvety guts wrapped around them.

   "Fuck, baby, fuck," Mom gasped as I pumped her twat with my two biggest
fingers.  "Mm -"the way you eat pussy is so fucking good."

   I slid my fingers through Mom's folds and turned my hand palm-side up,
then curled my fingers against the underside of her mound.  Her squishy
insides yielded to my touch, and I caressed her G-spot with a feathery,
come-hither sway of my fingertips.

   "Beer time!" my dad shouted.

   "Travis, no" -"Mom put her hands on my head and pushed -""no more."

   Her effort caused her to fall back and her legs to come up.  If she
hadn't have pushed herself over, I would have never stopped.  I caught her
hips and pulled her up, but left her to fix her skirt as I scrambled into a
chair facing away from the kitchen island.  Mom was in disarray, her hair a
mess, but she swung her legs under the table, and pulled down her skirt and
handed me a mimosa with a trembling hand just as Dad turned into the
kitchen.

   I looked in his direction, and thankfully he was walking with his back
toward us, trying to watch as much of the game as he could until the TV was
no longer in sight.

   "You're missing a great game," Dad said to me as he turned around. 
"Since when don't you watch football?"

   "Well, you know," I said and shrugged and drank from the mimosa Mom had
handed me.  Why had she given it to me?  Fuck if I knew -"doubt that she
knew -"but I drank it down anyway.

   Mm, honey, and bourbon.

   Dad walked to the fridge on quick feet and long strides.  I heard the
door open, and bottles of beer clink and then the rubber squish of the
fridge sealing shut as he closed the door.  Dad took a step and then
stopped, and I waited, tense, with my heart making impressions against the
underside of my chest.

   "You look happy," Dad said.

   He wasn't talking to me.  I swung my eyes toward Mom.  He hair was a bit
of a mess, red flushed her cheeks red, and her breasts moved up and down in
a rapid motion as she typed a bunched of gibberish on her computer.  No one
could type that fast.  She had to steady her breathing before she looked at
him.

   "Afternoon mimosas," Mom said.  "How couldn't I be happy?"

   "Yeah, well," Dad said, "you two have fun." He left the kitchen.

   I looked at Mom.

   Mom looked at me.

   "That's his sixth -""

   I shot out of my seat and pressed my lips to my mother's, swallowing her
words and pushing my tongue into her mouth.  My cock bobbed against my
short, leaving smears of pre-cum all around their insides.  Mom moaned into
my mouth, and she put her hands against my shoulders, pushing me.  I
grabbed her wrist and pulled her from her chair and used that momentum to
push her past me straight toward the kitchen island.

   "Travis," Mom warned then grunted as I bent her over the granite counter
top and yanked her skirt above her waist, trapping it between her and the
counter's ledge.

   Mom tried to speak again, but I covered her mouth with my left hand
while fishing my cock out of my shorts with my right.  Pre-cum shined
across my tip, making it slick and cupped my knob and wiped the slippery
mess down the length of my shaft, greasing my meat for my mother's hungry
cunt.

   "Oh, fuck," Mom said, her whisper an accusing hiss, "do it!  Fuck me!"

   I grabbed the neck of my cock and thrust my hips forward.  My knob
punched right into the soft-shelled clam between Mom's legs, opening her up
and forcing a low grunt from her lungs.  Her legs spread for me, her thighs
trembled, and I fell onto her back as her pussy lips stretched around the
width of my pole.

   "Mm-umm," Mom mumbled into my palm.

   Mom wanted to get loud, I could tell, but my hand on her mouth kept her
noises to muffled grunts and bursts of spit, and the cheers from the TV
sounded louder than before, as did Dad's voice as he cheered.  I bent right
over my mother, chest to back, hips to her round ass and I pumped her pussy
with short strokes, each one a deep-hitting piston that left her juicy
pussy quivering.

   We had to come quick.  I was close.  My heart raced, and my balls
tingled.  Mom's juices flowed.  I pulled her hips and body away from the
island, her hands sliding across the granite as if falling off a cliff, and
when I had enough room between her and the island top, I reached around her
waist and cupped her pussy with my hand.

   "Hmm, mm, mm, muh," Mom mumble-moaned into my palm as I pumped her twat
and diddled her clit until her pussy throbbed around my swelling shaft.

   "Mom, I'm going to come," I whispered in her ear.  "Come with me.  Come
with me, you sexy bitch.  Come with -""

   Mom's pussy tightened around my shaft, and I swallowed a grunt, coming
inside of her cunt as she released a flood of juices over my balls and down
her thighs.  I held her, looking in the direction of the dining room and
trying to see around the curve into the living room, impossible as that
was.

   We parted, and I tucked my cock away while Mom grabbed a hand towel and
wetted it beneath warm water.  She looked at me, smiling and shaking her
head and I watched as she wiped the inside of her thighs and the battered
lips of her pussy clean.

   "Go upstairs," Mom said, "and stay there, you bad boy."

   I did as she told me to do, and on my way upstairs, out of the corner of
my eye, I saw Dad watching me.

   A Risk Too Far

   Sex in the day and evening, while Dad was somewhere in the house became
a regular thing for Mom and me.  We fucked in my room with the door open
while he was downstairs.  We fucked in the garage while Mom did laundry,
hiding our sounds beneath the rumble and tumble of the washer and dryer. 
I'd bend Mom over and lift her skirt, or set her on the dryer while it
hummed and vibrated beneath the bare cheeks of her round ass.  I
masturbated her in the kitchen, or I'd eat her out early in the morning
while Dad showered before work, but that wasn't enough for Mom.

   "I want to play in front of your father," Mom would whisper to me when
Dad was near us, but not near enough to hear her words.

   "Are you crazy?" was my usual response.

   "I didn't say put on a show," Mom would answer.  "I said that I wanted
to play in front of him.  Beneath his nose."

   "I don't know if you know what 'in front' means," I'd say, "but it's
pretty hard not to see something that's right under your nose."

   "Remember the foot rub?"

   How could I forget it?

   So one Friday night -"a Dad drunk night -"I decided to give Mom what she
desired, or as close to it as I could.  Dad lay sprawled out on his
recliner with the footrest up, and the backrest relaxed, his beer in one
cup holder and his whiskey in the other.

   Mom and I sat on the couch, each of us at one end.  When one of Dad's
random snores left his mouth, I looked at Mom, who had looked at me at the
same time.  She was wearing little boyshorts that hugged her muff and
angled upward from her pussy to the outside of her hips -"shorts that Dad
often suggested she not wear around the house -"and an off-the-shoulder,
cropped gray sweatshirt without a bra.  That was something else I had heard
Dad talking about with Mom: The noticeable lack of a bra covering her tits
lately.

   "Go to the kitchen," I whispered, my cock sitting in a chubbed-up state
because of her outfit.

   Mom licked her lips and widened her eyes at me, smiling and playful, and
she stood from the couch and followed my order.  I waited a minute,
watching Dad the entire time, studying the way his chest rose and fell and
listening to the sounds of his breathing.  He snored once while I watched
him, which eased the growing pace of my heartbeat.

   He's sound asleep, I thought. He has to be.

   I stood, asserting pressure on one foot and then the other while never
taking my eyes off my father.  I backed away from him and around the side
of the couch, then walked toward the dining room with my right shoulder
leading the way, and I shifted to my left shoulder when I reached the
spacer between the dining room and the living room, still watching him as I
walked into the kitchen.

   "Well?" Mom asked.  She stood with most of her weight on her right foot,
her left leg bent and her toes braced against the floor like a ballerina.
She had her right hand on her hip, and her left played with the low
neckline of her off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, right above her left breast.
"Do you want to?"

   I hesitated and licked my lips, trying to think.  Mom's eyes tracked my
tongue, and she pulled down on her neckline as she sawed her finger along
its length, slowly pulling the fabric across her upper left breast and
below the thickness of her nipple and her small, puffy areolas.

   I sighed.  If there was ever a type of nipple meant for sucking, it was
the puffy ones.

   "No further than the dining room," I said.

   Mom nodded and walked past me, turned around and leaned her bubble butt
against the edge of the table, near the corner closest to the living room.
Light from the kitchen turned the shadows of the dining room gray, and I
followed Mom while looking to my left.  I could see Dad's chair, but I
couldn't see his face, or his chest, or his upper body as it sank into the
cushions beneath him.  His legs jutted out, his feet on the footrest, and
they weren't moving.

   "Come to me," Mom whispered, her words rushed and trembling, "before
your father wakes up."

   My cock jump, growing beneath my basketball shorts to full hardness.  My
nipples tightened, and goosebumps sprouted over my arms.  A chill ran its
fingers down my back.  I took those final steps toward Mom and lowered my
mouth.  A spurt of pre-cum left my cock as soon as my lips closed over my
mother's left nipple.

   "Mm," Mom sighed.

   I cringed at the false-loudness I heard in her voice, and I bit her
nipple on accident.  Mom moaned again, louder this time, and she pressed
her palms against the table in a backward grip.  I turned my head toward
the living room, stretching Mom's nipple and her breath hissed inward.

   I grabbed Mom the hips and dug my fingers into her, feeling her soft
flesh and the outline of her bones beneath.  Mom's breathing came deep and
fast and magnified to my ears, sounding like a roar of thunder that should
have shaken the house.  I licked around her areola with the tip of my
tongue then sucked her breast into my mouth, pulling her tit-flesh into a
cone shape at its peak.  The soft suckling of my lips on her maternal tit
filled me with a hollow dread while goosebumps dotted my skin.

   Mom released a long sigh.  I reached up with my left hand and pulled her
low-slung neckline beneath both of her breasts, the fabric springing back
up and catching in the under-swell of her tits.  I moved my mouth to her
right mound and licked its roundness, starting near the base and covering
her flesh in my saliva before swirling my mouth to her nipple with
exaggerated head movements.

   Dad snored.  I froze.  Mom lifted her left hand to the back of my head
and pressured me to keep sucking.  Fuck it, I did.  Dad's snore hadn't woke
him, but it had hardened my cock and quickened my pulse, the rush of the
moment making my prick throb with the need to spray my cum all over my
mother's pussy.

   I closed my lips over my mother's nipple and sucked.  Mom puffed out her
chest, pulled it back, puffed it out, fucking her tit beyond my teeth as
she uttered hushed whines and whimpers.  I slid my eyes to the left, but I
couldn't see Dad.

   I heard another snore.

   I dropped my hands from my mother's breasts to her waist, touching her
soft sides above the waistband of her shorts.  Should I take them off or
leave them on?  Her boyshorts were stretchy enough that I could pull the
crotch to the side, and whatever small panties she was wearing underneath
as well -"Dad snored -"or I could get my mother naked with my father in the
living room, and he'd never know.  He'd never know that his fucking wife
was naked from the waist down, ass and muff bare, and ready for her son's
love.

   "Fuck me, baby," Mom whispered at me as if her words could compel me by
the force she fed into them.  "Mommy needs it."

   I groaned through gritted teeth, the sound more of a growl that ground
against the back of my throat.  I pulled away from my mother's nipple,
taking her flesh with me and stretching it out, letting it snap away from
my bite so that her tit jiggled.

   I pulled Mom's shorts down her hips, stopping at the start of her thighs
as the side-loops to her bikini panties came into view.  I grabbed the ends
of each one and pulled, drawing the strings through the simple bowknot and
shrinking the loops until they disappeared.  Then I let go of the left side
and pulled my mother's panties out of her shorts from the right side, using
the back half, and fighting the gentle resistance of her panties sliding
out from between her thighs.

   "Put them in my mouth," Mom said.  "To keep me quiet."

   I lifted the panties to my mother's lips, the crotch wet against my
fingers.  She opened her mouth, her eyes taking on a big, doe-like stare of
helplessness, and I placed the panties on her extended tongue and gave them
a two-fingered push into her oral cavity.

   Mom nodded.

   I rolled Mom's boyshorts below the bottom of her swollen pussy lips. 
She pushed my shorts down my hips and ass, the waistband stopping just
below my balls and butt cheeks.  Mom pressed her the fingers of her right
hand together and licked them, then dropped them between her thighs and
rubbed her pussy the way porno bitches do when gathering their juices for a
big fucking dick.

   I groaned when Mom stroked my member, and I turned my head to the living
to see if there was anything to see.  The TV screen flickered between white
and gray hues, tinting Dad in near darkness.  His legs hadn't moved.  His
chair hadn't creaked or swiveled, and his snoring continued in a steady
once-a-minute rhythm.  Mom squeezed my glans and cupped my balls, the cum
inside of them swimming about and getting ready for a forward-propelled
release, like the lead thoroughbreds in a horserace stretching for the
finish line.

   "Fuck me," Mom mumbled through her panty-stuffed lips.  "Fuck Mommy's
pussy."

   I bent my knees, dropping my ass and grabbing my cock with my right
hand. Mom sat back on the table, her boyshorts creating a tight roll
between her thighs, and I slid my cock beneath her shorts and found her
tender pussyhole on the first thrust.

   "Huh," Mom huffed, expelling air through her panties as her wet cunny
lips and pink pussy ring stretched open for the head of my cock and the
thick shaft following it.

   As I stood, I slid my hands around Mom's ass.  She sat back on the
table, raising her knees, but keeping her feet hanging down, and I grabbed
her ass as she balanced herself on her palms.  We lifted her butt several
inches above the dining room table and then we rocked against each other,
my cock pushing her pussy inward with each pump and pulling her lips
outward with each withdrawal.  Fuck, she was creamy down there.

   "Mm, hm, uh, mm, huh, ah, mm," we moaned together, doing our best to
keep quiet as my prick throbbed and Mom's pussy trembled.  The wetness that
fucking within sight of my dad created between her legs dripped down her
asshole and dampened my balls whenever my sack pressed against her butt.  I
wasn't going to last long, and judging by my mother's soft whimpers and the
way her pussy clung to my rigid flesh; she was about to come as well.

   "This is so bad," I whispered, leaning forward to speak into my mother's
right ear.  "So fucking dangerous."

   "Mm-hmm," Mom sighed.  "I'm so bad for my son."

   "You have a naughty little pussy for making me do this." I kissed her
cheek right next to her ear, then licked her lobe and nibbled her neck.  A
buzz shook my body.  "You're a naughty fucking Mommy."

   Mom's pussy quivered, the added tugging against my cock-flesh sending a
tingle down my shaft that released a thick wad of pre-cum.  I sped up
because the next time I spurted anything into my mother, it would be the
full force of my orgasm.

   Our breathing quickened, and the soft sound of her pussy sliding over my
prick, and the low sound of my balls slapping against her ass grew louder.
Mom's nostrils flared, and she buried her face in my neck, her panties and
lips pressing against my flesh, her breathing heavy in my ears.  My moans
lost some of their force as my orgasm neared, sounding helpless and needy
as I tried to keep my volume low.  Mom swung her right hand around my
shoulders and dug her fingers into my back, using her grip to help hump her
pussy forward onto my cock.  She whimpered and wrapped her legs around my
waist, and that was it -"she came.

   I came, pulling her off the table and holding her in the air she shook
against me.  She gripped the back of my head with her left hand and
sob-kissed me through her panties, the honey soaking the nylon seeping into
my mouth.  My knees trembled, and I knelt, taking my time not fall as my
cum swam through my shaft and found a home deep within my mother's hole.

   We held each other, and I forgot all about Dad until a loud snore made
me pull Mom from my softening cock.  We stood and fixed our clothing, and
then we went upstairs to shower and go to bed.  I slept the sleep of the
dead, until -"

   "I saw you."

   I think my father had said those words more than once by the time I had
heard them.  Hallway light backlit him as he stood at the threshold to my
room.  I couldn't see his front.  I didn't want.

   "I saw you," he said again, louder this time.

   I had moved my head to look at him.  He must have seen it.

   "I saw you.  I saw the shades of your reflection in the TV.  I saw you."

   I said nothing, and he walked away.

   Mom joined me in my room sometime later and said, "I think I'll be
sleeping in here tonight," as she slid into bed next to me.  Neither of us
slept, and we didn't talk, but we did hold each other, and I spent the
night in a faraway place where my mind refused to cry, even if my rest of
me did not.

   The Way Things Are

   Things changed after that night.

   Dad and I never talked about what he saw.  I didn't know his thoughts,
but I knew I had no desire to speak with my father about incest.  We didn't
talk about much after that night for a long time.

   Dad continued to talk to Mom, more than I could remember him doing in
recent years.  I wouldn't call them friends, but they had an understanding
with each other that I guessed came with age and time and not a terrible
marriage, but one that had faded in meaning by its end.

   The one time I asked Mom about what Dad thought of me, she said, "You're
his only son.  Leave it at that."

   There was a time that Dad and I had been friends, wasn't there?

   As far as my relationship with Mom went, a few things changed, and those
few things only strengthened our relationship.  We were more open around
the house.  We didn't throw it in Dad's face, but we didn't hide it either.
We still snuck around, and Mom still wanted me between her legs when Dad
was near, but if Dad knew what we were up to when he was watching TV, he
never said a word.  Mom moved into the guestroom, but she slept in my room,
and the only change that she made to my living space was to turn my
queen-sized bed into a king-sized.

   I moved out of the house as soon as I was able too.  Mom didn't like
that, but the first night that she had spent in my small, one bedroom
apartment, she said, "I guess my little boy is all grown up.  Do you still
think about that collar?"

   My parents eventually went their separate ways after I graduated from
college.  I don't know why they waited so long, but they did.  When I asked
why, Mom said, "It's not easy to say goodbye to someone that you've never
hated."

   Mom bought a new house, and I moved in, and when Mom realized that our
relationship was going to cost me the chance at having a family of my own,
Mom helped me find a special woman who understood that my mom would always
be more than a mother to me.  I'll always be grateful to my mother for
that, and a couple of grandchildren were just what it took for my father to
let go of the past.

   Who is this woman that I found, it doesn't matter, but it turns out that
having a taboo secret is more common than you'd think.  My wife has her own
desires, and I don't interfere with them.  I encourage them, and I take
part in them, and families that play together stay together.  Most people
wouldn't call us normal, but that's the way things are.

   And that's how I, and others like me, like it.




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