Article 91334 of alt.sex.stories:
From: yat@netcom.com (yat)
Subject: Heiress Mother (mf incest mother/son)
Date: Thu, 9 Nov 1995 02:13:03 GMT

			    Heiress Mother

	My mother is one of those rich heiresses you used to read
about in the gossip columns. Complete with the debutante's ball at
eighteen, the early marriage to a European duke, the quickie divorce,
more romances and marriages, more divorces. You get the idea.

	I'm the duke's son. In fact, I actually met him once when I
was a kid. But most of my life was spent in boarding schools while
Mother ran off to new parties around the world. Leaving me to eat my
heart out with jealousy over each new husband or lover she introduced
me to.

	By the time I was twenty-three, I had been expelled from four
colleges and was living in New York's Soho district, pretending to be
a painter. I had a trust fund from my grandfather that threw off too
much income for me to take anything very seriously.

	Except where Mother was concerned. I always took her
seriously. So when I heard about the collapse of her latest marriage,
I flew out to Santa Barbara to be with her in her big Spanish house on
a hill overlooking the ocean.

	She looked as beautiful as ever. Maybe a little thinner. Maybe
a glint of panic in her emerald eyes at the possibility of running out
of men. But with the same patrician face that made her seem like a
queen to me when I was kid. The same elegant voice. The same willowy
body with the long legs and lush bosom of a calendar model.

	"Oh, Charles, I seem to have such problems with men," she said
forlornly, as we sat on the terrace a few hours after my arrival.

	"Not with me, Mother," I said.

	"No, you're one man I can always count on. Not that I deserve
it after the way I neglected you as a child."

	"We're friends now. You know how much I love you."

	"God, I need to hear that. All I've ever really wanted is to
be loved. Maybe that's why I've made so many mistakes with men."

	Suddenly, she bowed her head and began to weep. It was the
first time I had ever seen her cry, and it really shook me. I got up
quickly and went over to her. I took her by the shoulders and raised
her to her feet, putting my arms around her and letting her cry
against me.

	She nestled in my arms like an abandoned child, giving herself
completely to me as her body trembled with bitter sobs. So soft and
vulnerable that my eyes filled with tears. She was my mother. The
queen of my life. I loved her so much that her pain became mine.

	But as I stroked the back of her loose silk dress, I became
aware of a stirring in her thighs. Her breasts were swelling
unmistakably against my chest with each sob. And the intoxicating tang
of her perfume filled my nostrils.

	Suddenly, uncontrollably, my cock began to stiffen. I t
hardened quickly into an urgent, pulsing bulge inside my slacks. The
softness and fragrance of Mother's overpoweringly female body in my
arms was rousing me into a terrifying frenzy of sexual excitement.

	I felt an awful sense of helplessness as my cock pressed
shamelessly into her. Her sobs died away when she realized what was
happening. She raised her head and look questioningly into my face.
The panic was gone from her eyes, as if the pressure of my cock had
eased the fear of being left without a man to comfort her.

	"I'm sorry, Mother. I can't help it," I whispered, as my heart
thumped wildly.

	"My dear sweet boy," she sighed, gazing into my eyes.

	She kissed me on the mouth. But it was more than a mother's
kiss. It was a woman's response to the naked pressure of my erection.
Her tongue probed tentatively against my lips, then slipped between
them and plunged deep into my mouth.

	My cock leaped excitedly. She moved herself back and forth
against it sensuously. I wanted to resist, to pull away and run from
the terrace. But the secret longings of a lifetime were too much for
me.

	With a desperate sigh, I gave in to my dreams and began
sucking eagerly on her fluttering tongue. My hands slid around to
squeeze her breasts. They were naked under the thin silk of her dress.
Naked and alive and overflowing my palms with their fullness. A new
thrill of excitement raced through me as I felt her nipples stiffen
against my roving thumbs. A sudden breeze from the sea blew away the
last of my hesitations, and I thrust my cock into her belly like an
impatient lover.

	"Oh God, Charles... "she gasped, tearing her mouth away from
our kiss and throwing her head back exultantly. "I love what you're
doing to my breasts. Your hands are wonderful."

	The erotic thrust of her aroused nipples made my cock throb
more fiercely. She reached down and closed her fingers around it.

	"Darling, you're so hard," she sighed, squeezing my cock
gently.

	"You're like a queen to me, Mother. I just want to worship
you."

	"We shouldn't be doing this. A mother and son... "

	"I know. Do you want to stop?"

	"I don't think I can."

	"Neither can I."

	We ran upstairs to her bedroom like a pair of lovestruck
teenagers left alone in the house for the first time. I unzipped her
silk dress as we soul-kissed hungrily. It slid off her shoulders and
billowed to the floor. She was only wearing white lace bikini briefs,
and I slipped them down over her hips as she kicked off her red
kidskin flats. Then I stepped back in awe at the glory of her naked
body.

	Mother was nearly forty-one, but her body looked at least ten
years younger. The startling thrust of her breasts and rich swell of
her hips gave her a maternal lushness that filled me with an aching
need to bury myself completely in her. I was out of my clothes in a
second. Facing her in my nakedness. Feeling a wonderful sense of pride
at the way she stared at my hard, pulsing cock.

	We lay down on her enormous bed, kissing and caressing and
twining our legs together. Losing ourselves in gulping kisses that
seemed to suck the very breath out of me. Rolling back and forth in
clutching embraces as I gloried in the richness of her flesh. Filling
the whole room with the steamy heat of our rampant passions.

	Then I was kneeling between her legs, stroking her thighs as
they embraced me. Feeling the tingle of her fingers dance lightly up
and down my arms. Bathing my yearning, thrusting cock in the warm flow
that gushed from her soft nether lips.

	"Come to Mother, my dear little boy," she whispered, as her
lips blossomed like a rose for my cock.

	I leaned forward on my hands and slipped easily into her all
encompassing wetness. Thrusting ecstatically. Burying myself in the
warm embrace of her undulating love nest. Sliding all the way down to
the very source of me until I was totally engulfed by her yielding,
thrilling softness.

	With an exultant cry, she pulled me down on top of her and
filled my mouth with her fluttering tongue. I sucked hard on its
squirming fullness and began thrusting rapidly inside her. Feeling my
balls convulse as the liquid fire of my long- suppressed desires began
to boil irresistibly up my legs. Knowing that my life was being
changed forever. And not caring.

	A moment later, the fire erupted into my pumping cock. And I
came. In a long, excruciating surge against my mother's womb. I came
again. And again. Jetting hot streams of fire into her.

	Filling her with a son's worshipful love.

	Emptying myself into this blessed woman who had given me life.

	Returning forever to her until the last drop of me oozed from
my straining cock, and I went limp.

	Afterwards, I lay in her arms with my eyes closed. Sucking
drowsily on her generous nipples like a contented child. Reveling in
an all-encompassing oneness with her. As if she had give birth to me
for a second time.

	Then I became aware of little, rhythmic movements stirring her
body. I opened my eyes and saw that she had her hand between her
thighs. She was masturbating herself, slowly and dreamily.

	A wave of remorse swept over me. In the afterglow of my
exhausted contentment, I had forgotten all about her passion.

	"Let me do it, Mother," I said, covering her hand with mine.

	"Baby," she crooned. "Do you want to make Mother come?"

	"Yes. Please let me."

	"Darling, how sweet."

	She slipped her hand out from under mine and spread her legs
further apart. My finger quickly found her lips, all hot and soft and
flowing. I stroked them slowly. She sighed with delight and held me
close.

	"Am I doing it right?" I asked, wanting her to feel every
wonderful thing possible.

	"Yes, my little lamb. Just a tiny bit higher. Yes... oh yes,
that's perfect. Oh, Charles, don't stop, don't stop. God... "


	I stroked Mother's eager clit lovingly. Her lips gushed
exuberantly and bathed my finger with hot wetness. I sucked deeply on
her swollen nipple and felt her body begin to tense.

	Suddenly, she seemed to explode in my arms.

	"Oh, Charles," she cried, as a deep spasm convulsed her.
"Charles, darling!"

	I eased the pressure of my finger, but stayed with her all the
way as a long series of spasms tore through her. When they began to
subside, I stroked her clit a little harder. Almost immediately, a new
series of spasms welled up inside her, and she exploded again.

	Never before had I made love to such a responsive woman. She
came again and again for me. Writhing and shivering and crying out my
name. Digging her nails into my back. Biting my shoulder as my finger
caressed her clit with passionate devotion. Then exhaustion overcame
her, and she squeezed her thighs together to force my finger away.

	"Oh, Charles, no more," she gasped. "You'll make me faint."

	"My darling mother... " I said, kissing her softly on the
mouth.

	We lay together for a long time after that. Kissing and
caressing fondly. Exploring secret, thrilling places in our bodies.
Deepening the tender intimacies of our love as the dying afternoon
wrapped us in its shadows.

	"You're so wonderful, Charles," she said softly. "I think
you're the most exciting lover I've ever had."

	"Coming from you, that's quite a compliment."

	"I don't know when I've had so many glorious orgasms."

	"I love you, Mother. I'll never leave you."

	"You're such a sweet boy, I'd like to do something extra
special for you."

	"Really?"

	"Yes, my little love. Tell Mother your most secret desire."

	"Would you... dress up for me?"

	"Dress up?"

	"Put on stockings. With a garter belt. And high heels. Your
legs are so beautiful."

	"Will you worship them if I do?"

	"Like a faithful courtier worshipping his queen."

	"How sweet. Now you just lie there and watch."

	She rose like a dancer from the bed and glided across the room
to a tall dresser. She took out a black lace garter belt from the top
drawer and hooked it around her waist. Then a pair of classical
stockings that she slipped enticingly onto her long legs, fastening
each garter with a graceful, practiced motion that made my cock throb
with new excitement.

	Her stockings were transparent black with wide lace tops.
Their sheerness clung alluringly to the sharp little bones of her
ankles and deepened the California tan of her skin.

	Finally, she opened her closet and scanned the rack of shoes
that filled the back of the door. After a moment, she selected a pair
and held them out to me with a smile.

	"You've been such a good boy that I'm going to let you slip my
pumps on for me," she said, padding toward me in her stocking feet.
"Would you like that?"

	"You bet," I said, and leaped eagerly from the bed.

	She sat down on the sofa that was near her dressing table and
handed me her shoes. They were black suede opera pumps with high, thin
heels. I marveled at how soft and insubstantial they were.

	Mother's feet had always excited me. So tiny and slim and
perfectly shaped. With magnificently high arches and long toes and
red-painted nails that glistened softly through the transparent sheen
of her stockings.

	As I knelt before her, she extended her left foot toward me
with a slow grace of a ballerina. I grasped it lightly just above the
ankle, slipping the black suede pump around her toes and up over her
heel. It was so soft and loose and low-cut that it barely clung to her
foot. She arched her foot this way and that. Displaying it proudly to
me. Flexing her toes and flicking the pump off and on her heel.

	I raised her other foot and cuddled its pump around her toes.
I let it linger there enticingly for a few moments, then slid it up
over her heel. Only to ease it back off, so I could experience again
the thrill of feeling her toes thrust sensuously into the embrace of
soft suede as I slipped the pump up over her heel.

	"Let me model my lovely pumps for you, darling," she said,
rising to her feet.

	She strode slowly back and forth before my excited eyes,
letting the bare, loose pumps slip deliciously off her heels as she
walked. Pausing for a long moment after each step so I could drink in
the sight of her exposed heel. Then drawing her leg forward and
flicking the pump back on.

	"I just adore pumps," she said, standing in front of me and
bending her right knee forward to raise her heel until it slipped free
of the pump. "They're so soft and comfortable. Like Cinderella
slippers. See how easily they slip off?"

	"Oh God, Mother. That's so exciting," I moaned, as she slid
her foot back along the pump's insole to expose her toes.

	I crawled over on my knees and embraced her silken legs.
Kissing her ankles and insteps as she slid her right foot slowly in
and out of the black suede pump.

	Finally, she floated down onto the edge of the sofa and
crossed her legs elegantly. The whisper of nylon brushing nylon was
like an erotic sigh. She arched her dangling left foot and flicked the
black suede pump off her heel. It hung there precariously for a
moment, then slid all the way down to her graceful toes.

	I threw myself on my knees before her and poured rapturous
kisses over her foot. She let the gangling pump drop to the floor, and
I began kissing her toes. Licking them eagerly. Sucking them into my
mouth and caressed them with my tongue. Soaring into a frenzy of
worshipful love for my mother's exquisite foot until I was rubbing it
wildly against the pulsing tip of my swollen cock in a mad effort to
come.

	"My goodness, Charles. You're so hard again," she said, as she
caressed my cock with her toes.

	"I know. Your feet are driving me crazy."

	"Would you like me to make you come?"

	"Yes, yes... "

	"All right, darling. Stand up and come to Mother."

	I got to my feet and stood between her legs with my cock
throbbing close to her face. She took it in her hands and began
fondling it. Stroking it gently. Rubbing it across her nipples and
into the cleavage between her breasts. Making me thrill with
anticipation.

	Then she bent forward and kissed it. Licked its florid tip
with her pointed tongue. Slid her lips around it in a wet embrace that
made my whole body tremble. And sucked it completely into her loving
mouth.

	"Oh God," I cried, as her soft tongue held my cock against the
roof of her mouth. "Oh, Mother, I love it! I love it!"

	She slid her drooling lips up and down the whole excited
length of me. Caressing me with her tongue. Cradling my balls in the
warmth of her hand. Sucking me. Eating me. Devouring me with her
voracious mouth.

	I grabbed her head with both hands and thrust myself wildly in
and out between her lips as a delirium of ecstasy overwhelmed me. The
liquid fire raced inexorably up my legs again. Into my livid cock.
Swelling me until I exploded.

	And I came in my mother's mouth.

	Poured myself into her.

	Surging forth again and again. As she moaned happily and drank
me down.

	I collapsed in an exhausted heap between her knees and buried
my face in the soft flesh of her thighs. She held me, and crooned a
lullaby to me, and rocked me to and fro.

	That was almost two years ago. Mother gave birth to a
beautiful baby boy about six months ago, and she is pregnant again
with our second child. Even though most of our friends and
acquaintances now shun us, Mother and I are happy with the life we
have chosen for ourselves and our children.

	We also turned one of the bedrooms of the Santa Barbara house
into a studio for me, and I'm becoming a serious painter now. I'm
currently doing a series of oil painting of her feet. She poses for me
each morning. Sometimes completely barefoot. Sometimes wearing only
stockings. Sometimes sitting with her legs crossed, and elegant pump
dangling from her toes. Our sessions usually last all morning and
sometimes into the afternoon. Until desire overwhelms us, and we lose
ourselves in hours of rapturous lovemaking.