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A Mom's Story

By: MaryH



I always considered myself to be a normal 38 years old wife and mother. But then a few months ago I saw something that changed my life. I never in 19 years of marriage ever seriously thought about cheating on my husband Harold. Now I’m having an affair, and the strangest part is that my new lover is my 18, year old son.

Let me tell you about my son. Last summer he turned 18 and when I looked at him my little boy was gone in his place was a very handsome and virile young man. He was 6 feet tall, short blond hair, blues eyes, slender but muscular, a swimmers body.  I would often find myself getting jealous when I watch him around the pool with his girl friend.  My husband chided me, “Your worse than mother hen. You know one day he will bring some girl home and tell you she is the one for him.” 

I thought Harold was probably right that I was just over protective not jealous, but then one afternoon I came home early.  I could hear the MTV blaring as soon as I opened my car door in the garage so it was no wonder they didn’t hear me come in.  I walked into the kitchen and looked into the family room and what I saw changed my life. I saw my son and his girlfriend. They were sitting on the couch making out. They didn't see me or know I was watching and I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. I watched my son kissing her their tongues probing the others mouths. His hands rubbing and cupping her breasts through her blouse, her nipples were poking hard points through her bra and blouse. His fingers were teasing the peaks making them stand even taller. I watched as his hand slipped under her blouse moving over her tummy cupping her breast. I heard her moan and watched as my son opened her blouse and pushed her bra up over her breasts her dark pink nipples tilting up from the tips of her breasts. Her nipples were hard and she moaned as he kissed and licked his way down to them sucking and licking each of them in turn. His hand moved up her leg under her skirt her legs opening as his big hand reached the junction between her thighs  She didn't let him take her panties off but I could see is hand moving under her skirt his finger pushing into her. Her hips were moving pushing back at him. 

I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. I felt my own nipples aching straining hard against my bra and the warm liquid feeling in my lower belly.  It was all I could do to not touch myself. I watched as she cried out her body jerking and shuddering as she came hard my son still sucking on her tit his finger deep in her pussy. I was biting my lower lip pressing my thighs together feeling the wetness soaking my panties

I watched her reach for him open his pants and take out his cock. I had no idea he was built like that. His cock was so big and hard at least 7 inches long and looked like it was 2 inches thick. His cock was throbbing. I watch as she knelt in front of him and took as much of him into her mouth as she could her red lips stretched wide around his hard thick cock. She sucked him moving her mouth up and down barely able to get more than his swollen head in her mouth. I heard him grunt his fingers tangled in her hair holding her as he came. His eyes closed his muscles tensing as his cock throbbed in her mouth. She tried to swallow it all but there was just too much and his thick creamy sperm oozed from her lips dripping down her chin onto her breasts as he moaned and humped into her mouth.  I was in shock and left quietly walking around the block.  I made a lot of noise when I came back they were sitting together watching TV like nothing had happened. My sons shirt was tucked in although a bit of his shirt tail was caught in his zipper. She had put on fresh lipstick and the top button on her blouse was open and I could see the love bite my son had left on the swell of her breast. 

“How was your day,” I asked.  

“OK mom.” My son said taking his girlfriends hand. “I’m taking Jennifer home now mom. I will be home in time for dinner.”

I watched them walk out the door hand in hand. I almost ran to my bedroom. I couldn’t wait to get my clothes off my hands massaging my breasts my fingers rubbing my wet slit teasing my erect clit I came once almost immediately. Then again my whole body shuddering as I came the vision of my sons cock burning in my mind wanting it in my gushing cunt. Laying there catching my breath I thought, “My God that was so intense.” The idea of my son fucking me had just made me come like I had never come before. Then the guilt set in as I asked myself what kind of a sick person wants to have sex with her own son.  From that day on I haven’t been able to get the vision of his hard throbbing manhood out of my mind. I got so hot thinking about his cock filling her no, my mouth and my pussy. Just thinking about it makes me wet. I think about it when Harold makes love to me. I pretend it is my son and come so fast and hard. Harold even asked me why I was so horny. I told him, “Your just so sexy. You make me sizzle.  The fact of the matter is he has always had made me sizzle.  He is a wonderful man, a loving husband and father, great provider and a patient and wonderful lover. I have only one complaint and that his sexual drive is no longer equal to mine. He is 23 years older than me at 59 and can only of satisfy me about once a week. Sometimes I can get him interested a little more often but his cock does not get fully hard. I know that is not an excuse for cheating on him and I feel so bad about it.    Harold told me his company’s annual summer party was scheduled in a couple of weeks. 

“Do we have to go?” I asked him.  “You know I hate those things your boss is always trying to hit on me.”

“Yes we have to go.” He answered his hand rubbing my bottom like his boss tried to do whenever he got the chance. “You know its one of those political things we have to attend.” 

“I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that I hate going to those things.”

Things went on fairly normally for the next week or so. My fantasy about Jerry, my son, was growing daily as I masturbated thinking about how good it would feel to have his lips on mine, his hands roaming over my body, his big thick cock thrusting hard and deep into me. My fantasy was becoming an obsession. I found myself thinking about Jerry all the time. I was becoming more jealous of Jennifer and started trying to look sexy for him when we were home alone. I went so far that I shaved my pussy completely bare. God I got so wet when I wore the tight shorts that rubbed against my now bald sensitive mound and exposed lips when he was around. I could tell he liked what he saw because I would watch him shift his position and adjust his crotch making room for his swelling cock as he watched me.

It was the day before the company party my husband came home and told me. “I have to go to California tomorrow morning.” 

“Over the weekend?” I asked. 

“Yes, there is some kind of crisis out in LA and I have to go get it straightened out.”

“Well I guess that means I don’t have to go to the party.”

“No Bob (his boss) told me that he is expecting to see you there.” 

“Please,” I whined rubbing myself up against him. “I don’t want to go with out you. Bob will be after me all afternoon.”

“Honey you know you have to go, but you don’t have to go alone. I’ve thought about it. Why don’t you go with Jerry?” 

My heart was in my throat. “He wouldn’t want to go out with his mother?” 

“I don’t know about that. His mom is a pretty hot woman.” He laughed his hand squeezing my breast. “Why don’t we ask him?”  “Jerry,” he called. “Will you come in here for a minute please.” 

“What do you want dad?” Jerry asked.

“You know the company party is tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes I’ve heard you and mom talking about it.” Jerry hadn’t had to go to one of these parties since he was 12 there was nothing for young people to do and he had successfully begged out 4 years ago. 

“Well… I have to go to California tomorrow morning and I was wondering if you would take your mom to the party, and defend her honor?” 

I was standing behind my husband mouthing, “NO, NO,” to Jerry. Jerry looked right at me. Right at my full breasts, and said, “ Sure dad I will take her to the party and take good care of her.”

I could feel my nipples swell and strain against my bra when Jerry said he would take care of me his eyes were glued to my heaving breasts and I was blushing. I went back to the kitchen to regain my composure poking at the green beans on the stove. Wondering how I would cope with being alone and so close to Jerry.

“I think Bob is sending you to California on purpose.” 

“No if the situation weren’t so serious I would agree with you.” Then he told me, “You know Bob may not bother you this year.” 

“Oh really?” I asked “You mean I’m not sexy enough for that old lecher?” 

“Oh baby your sexy enough but I think one of the summer interns has him all wrapped up at the moment.”

“Well if that’s the case I guess Jerry will be able to protect me and I may be able to enjoy the party.” 

“Good then that’s all settled then.”

Later that night we made love and I imagined his lips were Jerry’s as he kissed me. The hands caressing my breasts and teasing my aching nipples were Jerry’s, and the hard cock that filled my dripping vagina was my handsome sons. After Harold went to sleep I lay awake wondering how I could keep my obsession from taking control. How would Jerry respond being so close to me? I lay awake for a long time before finally drifting off dreaming of Jerry holding me in his arms.

Harold woke early before leaving for the airport.  Kissing me goodbye he told me, “Enjoy your self at the party honey. I don’t think Bob will be a problem this year, and Jerry will take good care of you.” 

I was so nervous all day having mixed feelings of excitement about my handsome son and my desire to have him, and worry about how I could keep my obsession under control. I decided to not dress very provocatively but because the party was on the patio around the pool at the local country club. I wore a conservative black and white stripped two-piece bathing suit under a long off white sundress. The dress was fairly low cut and nearly backless but my top didn’t expose too much cleavage. I hoped it would not be too inviting to my husbands boss and not to exciting for my son.

We arrived at the party and it was better than I thought. Bob greeted us and only tried to feel my ass that one time a cute very young blond in a very revealing bikini was hanging all over her sugar daddy to keep him busy. Harold’s statement that Bob had found a young intern to keep him occupied was not quite right. From the look I got when we shook hands in greeting was that Bob was hers and I should stay away. Then she saw Jerry and smiled thinking that with a young stud like Jerry I would have no interest in her meal ticket.  Jerry and I wandered around I was surprised that there were so few people I knew. Harold had told me there had been some real turn over in the company but I had not expected anything like this. I knew almost no one. We found a table in the shade and sat down talking.

“Jerry, I don’t know anyone here.”

“Mom, that’s not so bad they don’t know you either. Mom they don’t know you’re my mom.”

I smiled at him, “No they don’t do they?”

“Can I call you Mary? It will be just for today. It will make it more like a date. You know mom, can we?”

“Why not it will be fun Jerry.” I told him squeezing his hand across the table. “We will have to have a story to tell anyone that asks.”

We decided that Jerry would be one of our neighbor’s sons who was home from his first year of college at State and was willing to come with me when Harold had to leave town on short notice.

“That’s great mom…. I mean Mary.”  Jerry went off to find us something to drink and I was surprised when he came back with two drinks. “Well since this is a date and you are older I guess it’s ok if you have a drink or two but remember your driving.” 

Jerry smiled at me handing me a drink I sipped it. “Watch our for these I told him they will sneak up on you.”

“Don’t worry Mary.”  My name sounded so strange coming from him but somehow so exciting. He offered me a sip of his. “It’s a virgin,” He quipped and we both started laughing.

A couple approached our table and asked if they could join us. Dan and Susan were new to the company moving here after Bob had bought the company he was with. He felt lucky to be one of the few to have a job as so many had been laid off after the merger.

Dan was about my age around 6 feet tall with thinning light brown hair and seemed to be keeping himself in good shape. Susan was taller then me, maybe a couple of years younger, with long light brown hair with darker roots, very slender with small pert breasts. We made small talk for a while and then Jerry and Dan went off to get fresh drinks when Susan commented, “Jerry is really a hunk, wherever, did you find him.”  

I blushed bright red. I didn’t want to admit to her that he was my son as I sensed she was interested in him for herself. 

I smiled back at her. “He is a friend of ours, home from college for the summer and I really didn’t want to come to this thing alone. You know Bob is a dirty old man and I’m not comfortable around him. Jerry was available and agreed to come with me.” 


As the afternoon wore on it became warmer and Jerry asked, “Mary would you like to go for a swim?”

“Yes its getting pretty warm,” I replied standing, unbuttoning the sundress and slipping it over my head.

“Wow Mary you look great in that suit.” Jerry complemented me. I blushed as Dan echoed Jerry’s comments and Susan just glared at me looking at my full breasts. I could see the envy in her eyes.

“Well thank you.” I smiled still blushing and feeling my nipples swelling in my suit. Thank god for the padded cups of the suit or it would have been very obvious that Jerry’s comments were exciting me. 

We swam and splashed for a few minutes then Jerry went underwater and cam up right in front of me holding me, pressing himself against me, crushing my breasts against his chest. “Hold your breath mom.” He whispered in my ear pulling me under and kissing me.  His lips felt so good my lips parted and his tongue found mine. He brought us back up so I could get my breath and kissed me again this time grinding his hips and hard cock against me as he held me tight against the side of the pool.  

“Jerry,” I moaned in his ear stop someone will see us. He broke our kiss but didn’t pull his body away from mine. I looked around and no one was paying any attention to us. I closed my eyes and he kissed me again his tongue dancing with mine. His hips grinding against mine. My legs wrapped around his hips. I could feel my pussy gushing, my nipples aching, my breathing becoming rapid. God I was losing control and Jerry knew it his thick hard cock rubbing against my pussy, pushing my suit into my open slit and, teasing my lips and clit. 

Jerry’s hand moved between us cupping my breast feeling my aching nipple press into his palm. “Jerry stop.” I moaned, “not here.” He released me kissing me lightly, lovingly on the lips. He swam away and I leaned against the side of the pool regaining my composure. I climbed out and grabbed a couple of towels from a pile beside the pool and dried my self off. Jerry came over drying himself looking like a young god. “Would you like some help?” He asked.

“No. I can manage,” I told him knowing what his touch would do to me.

“Maybe later,” he smiled and walked over to our table sitting down and putting his shirt back on, his still damp trunks clinging to him outlining the very manly (even soft) bulge at his crotch. 

I took a deep breath and went back to the table wiggling the sundress over my damp suit. The light white material clinging to me, my suit showing through the thin material almost like it wasn’t there. We sat at the table sipping our drinks the warm sun drying us quickly. “Mary.” Jerry said. Taking my hand in his. “You are the most beautiful and sexy woman I have ever seen.” 

“Jerry, I blushed, whispering remember I’m your mother.” 

“I know,” he answered gently squeezing my hand. “But that does not change the way I feel about you.”  “I love you Mary. I have always loved you.”  Jerry’s fingers gently caressed my hands. It felt so sensuous. I looked into his eyes and could see his love his need and felt my heart flutter as a wonderful warmth flowed over me. I wanted him to kiss me again but the mood was broken by the return of Dan and Susan to our table both of them still wet from the pool. 

Susan was drying her hair. She leaned close to me whispering. “I saw you were enjoying your swim.” I blushed. “It inspired Dan watching you,” she smiled. 

Dinner was announced and Susan and I went to the rest room to fix our hair and makeup before dinner. “I can see why Jerry jumped at the chance to come with you. He really is well equipped isn’t he?”   

I blushed and smiled, not wanting her to know he was my son as it was obvious from the hard points showing through my dress where it stuck to the still damp suit that I felt the same way. “Yes he is an exciting young man.” I replied. Smiling hoping I was not sounding too catty. I walked from the restroom with a new surge of moisture flowing in my pussy.

During dinner Jerry rubbed his leg against mine and occasionally put his hand on my leg sending shivers up my spine each time he did it. He had me so distracted I still can’t remember what we ate for dinner. 

I do remember Susan flirting with Jerry during dinner. It made me want to scratch her eyes out. Jerry laughed and continued to squeeze my hand and rub his leg against mine.

Dan looked embarrassed by Susan’s obvious flirting but his eyes were almost glued to my breasts a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Jerry. 

After dinner the DJ started and Jerry and I danced he held me close and I could feel his thick manhood pressing against me again. My legs felt so weak it was only his strong arms pulling me tightly to him that kept me from falling. I could feel my excitement and need building. His hands roamed over my back gently rubbing me from my shoulders to my bottom. I was lost I knew I wanted him I wanted him to make love to me I wanted to give my self to him completely. The music stopped I sat down and found a new drink at my place I swallowed half of it to gain some measure of control. I got hold of myself for the moment but the effect of the alcohol would be felt later. After a brief rest Susan asked Jerry to dance with her and her husband Dan danced with me. As we danced I saw Susan rub herself against Jerry grinding her hips into him. I saw him blush as she whispered in his ear. Dan couldn’t see what was going on because Susan kept moving so she was always behind him. Dan was very nice and made no advances toward me just pleasant conversation. When the music stopped Dan and I returned to the table but Susan kept Jerry on the dance floor for another song.  I watched them again Dan was sitting with his back to the floor, and I have to admit that I was getting jealous watching that slut push herself at my son. Jerry finally managed to come back to the table and Susan and I went to the ladies room. No sooner were we in there than Susan said, “Honey you are in for the ride of your life tonight. That boy is hot.”  

“Susan! I’m a married woman.” I stammered.

“So am I dear and if your not going to take advantage of that hunk of man tell me I will find a closet somewhere where I can ride that big thick hunk of meat.”

My head was spinning when I got back to the table I reached under the table and took Jerry’s hand squeezing it. I finished my drink and told him that I was ready to go home. He looked a little disappointed but we got up to go. Susan smiled at me and mouthed, “Good Luck,” as we said our goodbyes.


A Mom's Story



My name is Vera M. and this is a love story; A story about the utterly unconditional love of two people who are family. I am my son's mother. I'm a black woman of Asian extraction. I'm short, with a small waist, a fat ass, large breasts, and am light-skinned with long curly black hair. My lips are thick and full, my light-brown eyes are large and sexy and my nose is petite; all set on a pretty, heart-shaped face. I'm nasty and I love to fuck. But being a lonely widow of a rich man I have responsibilities to my dead husband, myself and my son. It takes up much of my time to handle his business. And I craved relief from the stress in the only way I knew how. I fucked myself several times a day the way I did when my husband was alive (you see, we met and fell in love in a brothel, so I'm horny all the time). Then I went home to dote on my young son. Holding him in my arms and taking care of his needs also relieved stress for me.

At age 18 my son, Danny, was already eight inches taller than me and he was horny as hell. He masturbated constantly. I masturbated too. A lot. And when I did I thought of him ("Ooohh, Danny. That feels so gooood."). 

One weekend afternoon, something snapped within me and I subconsciously but boldly let him catch me rubbing one out on his bed while watching an incest porno on my computer ("Um. . . Mom? Wha. . ."). 

I knew he was home but pretended I didn't ("Oh my god! Danny! Where did you come from?" Of course, the obvious answer was--my pussy). I looked guilty while he stared wordlessly at me for an indescribably long time. Then he opened his fly and showed me his cock. Oh my god! It was bigger than I imagined! My pussy drooled at the sight of it. I let the movie play as I sat up and spread my legs. My fingers were already wet as I licked them to touch myself again ("Do you ever do this, Danny?"). 

His precum spilled over as he stroked his cock ("Yes."). He then shyly whispered that he loved me. 

I swooned with open arms ("Oh, baby,"). Soon we were having amazing sex! I came all over his virgin cock after only a few minutes ("I was born to get fucked in the pussy, son,"). 

Then Danny came inside me (Uhn! Mommmmyyyyy! Uhn! Uhn! Ahhh. . . . Uhnnnn!"). 

After that we have never been the same. But we fuck almost everyday and are closer than ever ("I'm still your mother but I'm also your fuckin' whore, son--you understand?"). Oh, how I loved to ride his cock!

Even at the age of 44 I loved to wear miniskirts at home and bend over to show my handsome and virile college-age teen son my thonged ass. It was round and firm and smooth and sweet to the taste. I rotated it round and round to mesmerize him ("Come here, baby. Mommy wants to give you some pussy."). 

His cock became his sole guide as he followed the natural urge to enter a woman's wet cunt and tight asshole. My son was a dirty dirty boy and I loved him for it so much that I always dripped for him. 

I plopped on the sofa and showed him my wetness. He sat then kneeled before me and stared at my fat cunt as I gladly played with myself. I moaned out his name as I squeezed my tits and described all the filthy things I wanted us to do. 

His fingers penetrated my hole and spread it apart ever wider. He played with his cock with a dazed look on his cute face. I moaned out his name again and pulled open my asshole as I pushed my knees further toward my head. My son leaned in and buried his nose inside my slightly hairy anus and inhaled deeply. He was loving me. Silvery precum spilled from his inflated cock-head and rolled down his fingers to drip from his gently trembling wrist. I wanted that taste on my tongue. I craved it. His cum. My young beautiful loving son's cum. I wanted it in my mouth, pussy and ass. Just like always. Just like forever. 

I pulled on my long thick sensitive nipples and held out my 36- DDs like taffy, swinging them around with grand abandon at the pleasure of erotic release with the light of my life and my love-mate; the man I made and raised ("Danny, sweetheart, I need you to fuck me nasty. Real nasty."). That meant a hard fuck in my mouth (Mmmff!) before he pushes his cock up my ass ("Oh shit! Ohh shit! Aaaahh ooeee aaaagghhh!"). Then back in my mouth (Gag! Spit!) before he rams it up my cunt ("Yyyyyeeeeeessssssss!") until I cum ("Fuck me! Fuck me! Please God, oh fuck me! I'm a deranged whore and I'm cumming like one. . .! Yes, here it cums. . . Mmmmmm ooohh eeeeEEE AAAAAAAAHHHHH gggg uuuuuuuuhhhh nnnnnnn ggggggurgle!"). Then I suck his cock like a fiend (Slobber! Spit!) until he sprays his cream all over my face (Plop! Plop! Plop!) and I lick off the remains ("Mmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmm. . ."). Then we French-kiss and lick each other's sweaty assholes until we're ready to fuck again. 

I love to cum for him. I like to squirt out my juice in his face as he vibrates my swollen clit with his tongue and fingers my pussy. I squirm and I scream and I beg and beg for more. I call myself a cunt with a bottomless pit, an uninhibited whore, a dripping wet tramp, an ass-fuck queen, a needy degenerate, a horny little girl who loves her daddy. Those things are all true. I love sex! And I squeal with delight as my son spirals his big cock around in my ass in motions that leave the tip of his cock brown. 

When he eventually pulls it out and makes me smell it I release a load of gushing fluid that rocks me to my core. Involuntarily my shoulders fall forward and my ass hikes up like some feral beast to spray the room with my scent as I pant like a dog. This brings out my son's own animal instinct and he goes wild with his orgasmically moaning mother. 

In my helplessness he does whatever he wishes. Drained, I am unable to resist in any physical way. That is when he often ties me up with whatever is available and proceeds to rape me for hours ("Pleeeaasseeee, nnoooo! Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me! I'll do as you want. Anything you say. Don't slap me again! Plleease!"). 

He can be quite cruel ("I said, Scream louder, bitch, or I'm gonna ram this bat up your ass!"). But the fucking is out of this world! (I can't believe I came seven times in one hour!) My son is a highly intelligent, well-behaved gentleman who respects women. To see him become someone so completely different as he forces me to serve all of his most base sexual desires is mind-blowing in ways I can not adequately describe. 

We have no safe word between us. He experiments with me like a guinea pig--seeing how much intense pleasure I can take before completely losing my mind or passing out ("No. This is too much. I've had enough. I can't take it anymore! Stop! Stop! STOP! Pleeaassee, no. I'm begging you! Pleeeeaaaassee! I'm your mother. Don't do this to me. I can't cum anymore. You've fucked it all out of me. I don't have any more. Ohhh, noooo! Here I cum again. . .! AAAGGGHHHHHHHH!!").

Sometimes he gives me enemas and then fucks me in the ass making dirty water fly out everywhere. He might see how far he can push his arm up my cunt. Oftentimes while fucking me hard for hours he will leisurely piss in my cunt and fill up my womb with his hot urine as he then continues to fuck me silly. Or with my arms and legs tied he will suck on my tits for hours making me beg fruitlessly to have my cunt touched and licked and fucked hard and long. The juice pours out of my hole in a copious stream and I am unable to affect any relief for my aching, throbbing fuck-hole. 

I promise my son anything. I just need to have something touch my pussy. Something big and hard and juicy that fits perfectly inside of my palpitating vagina. I scream in throbbing aching sobs, sometimes for hours as the sucking of my nipples and squeezing of my titties and licking of my neck and body turns me on beyond reason. I lick my son's balls with careful loving ministrations and tongue his pungent asshole as he sits on my face. My hips jerk in involuntary ecstasy at the powerful passion I feel for my rapist-son. I am his mother and his fuck-slut for life. I will never cease taking his cock up my cunt until the day I die. I love it too much.

One evening, after dinner, as I was sucking the last bits of semen out of my boy's cock, the taste of his slime pleased me so much I climbed up and squirted a warm load down his throat as an after-dinner apertif (I want my son to experience the finer things in life). As he licked the water off my crotch I splashed his face with another gusher just because I loved him so much. My asshole tingled in joy and I directed him to finger it gently. We kissed as he fingered my pussy and ass to a few more orgasms before he was ready to fuck his ol' horny mom again. 

During the fuck he offered me his balls and asshole to lick and suck. As I did so as he fell into a slumber. I kept right on licking and sucking for the next two hours or so until my son awakened with a start and came in my face with thick gooey jets of tasty boy cream. I screamed in delighted excitement at the unexpected treasure of his seed in my mouth and on my body. I fingered my asshole as I swallowed his sweetness. Soon he recovered and was ready to fuck his mother again. We kissed and caressed and then fucked for hours until I passed out from exhaustion. I was both drained of cum and filled with cum at the same time. We snuggled together and vowed our endless love and slept peacefully all night long.

Now he is older and married. I have only tasted his wife's pussy once--when he first introduced her to me at our home. We all fucked our asses off that joyous day. But then she decided she wanted the cream of his cock all to herself. I saw how she strained to swallow more and more of his loads like someone dying of thirst. It set off a huge family drama. Not being satisfied in the pussy and ass by the cock I gave birth to sent me into a tailspin. My whole life was about handling my deceased husband's business affairs and taking our son's cock into all my sex holes. Toys were a poor substitute for my son's real meat. I needed to swap spit with him as I held him like a baby in my arms. I needed to hear him moan loudly in my ear as his pulsing cock exploded inside me. My son. My love. My life. 

But he was not gone for long. His fat cock was trained to fuck ME. He still felt most comfortable when penetrating my private orifices. He made it clear to his new bride that he would not abandon his mother. It would be the wrong thing to do. As his mother I would always be a part of his life. Eventually he was able to work out a schedule that would give us ample opportunity for visits that I looked forward to so much. During his lunch hour he would drop over to the office to pump a load up my pussy or down my throat (to give me energy for the day, if I needed it). After work, before going home, he visits me for a couple of hours to lick and finger my pussy and drink my cum. He saves his load for his wife. Sundays are reserved to help me with housework and to stretch out my asshole with his cock.

I tried to become used to less and found other ways to occupy my time. I tried the dating scene and found other men to be gross and crass and bad in bed. I found sucking their cocks to be distasteful because their dicks don't taste like Danny's. I sold the business for stock shares and two guaranteed lifetime annual annuities for Danny and me. I now do webcam shows and have developed a large fan base. I'm so proud of myself. I think my success is because of the erotic tales I weave as I wantonly masturbate myself for the camera. Stories that make my fans cum and come back. Stories just . . . like . . . this one.

But in the interim something happened and now I'm carrying Danny's baby inside me. I haven't told him yet but I think he suspects. In many ways he and I are one. We can almost read each other's mind. I haven't decided on whether to abort the fetus or carry it to term. I miss my Danny so much and would love to have another baby, his baby, to love. But what would this do to his marriage? Maybe it would bring him back home to be with his real family. The family we make together as we fuck and fuck and fuck. But soon, to my lasting chagrin, I discovered his wife was also pregnant. What a revoltin' development! Maybe we can all live together and continue to bear my son's children and be his horny wives, like perverted Mormons. I guess I'll know soon enough.

End 



A Mom's Story Ch. 01



This is an incest story so a warning to those of you who don't like them. As always your comments are more than welcome. 

Part II will be up in a day or so. 






My name is Virginia. I'm an associate broker in a local real estate firm.

My son is getting married today to a beautiful young woman. They graduated from our local law school this year where they met and helped each other get through. They have also just passed their bar exams. So, after three tough years of very hard study, promising legal careers lie ahead for both of them. Right now I'm at home, dressed in my best suit, waiting for his call. He is going to drive me to the church. I'm going to be his best "man."

His name is Robbie. He has so much to be proud of. His present confident self is light years ahead of his troubled early years when he had to witness the horrible marriage of his parents, Ron and me, and cope with the uncertainty and insecurity that produced in him. The affects didn't show up in any remarkable way that I noticed until his first year in high school when it became apparent that he was emotionally far behind other boys his age. It showed itself in his extreme shyness, as if he didn't know what to do with the steady storm of chaotic feelings he was struggling with–concern over his disintegrating family and his sexual maturation--so he just kept everything under wraps, the effort to keep it all contained making him way too uptight. That was our fault, his parents' fault, though his father was oblivious to all this, and I charge myself for failure to notice it. Then, I was too preoccupied with the drama of a failing marriage and didn't pay enough attention to the damage it was doing to Robbie.

Before I married I was a model. That's how I met Ron. I had to leave when the fashion in models went to women thinner than myself. I was too "busty" they said, although I am just a C cup, full and nicely shaped, but hardly outsized in that department, I thought. Still, the agencies I worked for liked the anorexic look--pencil-thin girls who would look at home on satin paintings, with huge hungry-looking eyes. They were all skin and bone, they seemed to me, and looked haunted, like meth addicts but without sores. 

We met at a party after a fashion show in which I had been one of the models. Ron treated me to his hard-core seduction campaign and I was swept away. I thought I had won out over the others, his "women," he called them, when he was bragging to me about his past He thought his various girlfriends were just damned lucky he had favored them for a while. I thought I was damned lucky he had chosen me over them. But even in those early days, a cautious voice, quiet but persistent in the back of my mind whispered, "Watch it. You have known guys like this. Guard yourself. Don't give your soul to this man. He is made to trample it and won't have the slightest idea that that is what he is doing."

Ron was, and probably still is, a very vulgar man with a foul mouth. I was put off at first by it but then learned to accept it as just a part of who he was. I got used to it, so much so that I even talk that way myself, sometimes. Repetition made the bluntness and vulgarity of the words fade and I grew to appreciate their directness when complaining about daily frustrations, and, when talking about sex, their stripping away of sentimentality when describing our fundamental urge to get very, very basic with each other. 

I thought maybe his "primal man" approach was his way of compensating for the forced politeness he was expected to display in his business environment, though the business he was in, bottom line, was anything but polite. Additionally, I told myself, he was just masking the more tender part of his nature. He wanted to be the he-man. I was willing to grant him this interpretation because of the constant fire-storm of love making he treated me to. I craved it, even melding it with the more traditional feelings I thought I was supposed to be having. Before I met Ron I didn't think "fucking" had anything to do with "love." 

So there was that aspect of it: role playing. He was the big tough guy and I was the sweet innocent being ravished by her man. '50's stereotypes from what I've read but that also introduced more than just a note of falseness to our marriage. We were both in large part just pretending.

As I've said, he was an exceptionally sexual man, which I didn't mind. I was adventurous, quite willing and very cooperative. Still I didn't know what to expect from marriage or what ordinary married sexual behavior would be like. I remember our first days and nights as man and wife when he would do me everywhere. He liked to pick me up and set me down on the floor and fuck me on the spot. He would get down and very dirty in the kitchen, the bathroom--anywhere-- the back yard, not even bothering to get out of his clothes. I was willing to go bare, anticipating his impulsive desires, but he insisted I wear underwear so he would have something to tear off. Or just remove roughly. He would get on top, pull whatever clothes he wanted off, off, and, then, literally, shove it in. Hard. 

I thought it was thrilling that I, his temptress, could bring out this crazed expression of his lust, and no matter how fast he was I was always wet and ready for his big red cock he was so proud of. It was long and it was thick. He liked to waggle it up and down, back and forth, as he, in his persona as red-eyed sex fiend, advanced on me while I cringed and feigned fear and hoped he would not notice how wet I was, how ready I was receive that look-what-I've-got-for-you-baby ramrod of his. 

That lasted for a couple of years. But then, gradually, as more time went by, and after Robbie's birth, he became more and more remote and preoccupied with his business. His arrogance grew as he became more successful. He is a bond trader. It's a great career for a pushy, aggressive man. As he used to say, bond traders have business by the balls. Our sex life suffered and I am a woman who loves it and needs the attentions of a man. I mean, for god's sake and to my partial embarrassment, I learned how much I love it, this ex-Catholic girl, in large part from him. 

It dawned on me, finally, as his coolness and distance got worse, that he had grown tired of the same old same old and was having affairs. It was terribly hurtful at first. I know I'm good looking and "hot" (some men say that to my face), so what was the problem? But he was traveling a lot. Meetings in lots of cities. Lots of opportunities with other women and he was taking advantage of them. Well, I thought, two can play that game so I began to have affairs myself. Lots of them. I needed the attention of men who were eager to give it to me. I loved giving in to temptation. I loved the excitement, the feel of a man's body and all that energy focused on me, feeling their hands all over me, the kisses, the delicious push of hard cocks entering me and then the thrusting, oh yes, the thrusting and orgasm building inside, then spilling over in fantastic climaxes. Whoowee! Adulteryhood! So exciting! The sweetness of cheating!

Some of these men wanted more, wanted me to divorce Ron, or just run away with them. I could have broken up several marriages. I had seven affairs during our sixteen years together, increasing in frequency toward the end. All of them were exciting and fulfilling in their own way but I was aware that I undertook them in direct proportion to Ron's fading interest in me. So, I guess, in a much more important way, they were a measure of my loneliness and need.

Why didn't I leave? Well, one word. Money. OK. Three altogether. Lots Of Money. I'm not proud nor am I ashamed. I earned it, not like a whore but as a loving and, to the casual observer, proper wife. Well, a married woman, anyway, so that takes care of legalities but, like a lot of married women, I stuck around for the money and security, so maybe that did make me a kind of whore, a society-approved whore with one, very good customer. 

I know I sound embittered and in a way I am. Love dies–I mean, that's a commonplace, right?-- and I get that. Disappointment makes us angry at first and then we get hardened but have to settle for revenge. That, however, does not make up for betrayal, does not quite even the score. The remainder for me was a resigned cynicism, and I was infected with it big time. But cynicism, I learned, is just as naive as gullibility. It's an over simplification, and acting on it as justification for reckless behavior could cause a lot of trouble for a lot of people. If I didn't snap out of it I could bring disaster to someone, maybe several people and I had to figure out a way to get hold of myself. 

Well, the solution turned out to be right at home. The solution was my son. I owe my gradual recovery to him, Robbie. He was my refuge, the unspoiled light of my life, so sympathetic during those last difficult years. In our frequent talks he would shower me with compliments, encouragement, and was just helpful in so many other ways. And he was only fifteen! Selfish as I was I let myself lean on him instead of caring for him and looking after him as I should have. I was too preoccupied with my own problems to realize how much he needed someone in this important period of his life whom he could talk to, who would listen to him.

So Ron was a bastard to me. OK. In response I could retaliate. But he was also cruel to his son, who couldn't. He mistook Robbie's brains that made him aware of complexity he didn't yet have the experience to put into perspective for being indecisive; and misjudged his sensitivity, calling it unmanly and weak. He put him down constantly and randomly so he didn't know when it was coming, just that it was, a barrage of criticism, almost always gratuitous, delivered in abrasive, contemptuous tones. I grew to hate him for undermining his own flesh and blood. Why would he do that to his beautiful boy? I had not realized what an angry man he was.

The breakup came with satisfying suddenness. First the fights with increasing frequency and ferocity-- accusations, recriminations, charge and counter charge--all that--and then Ron's departure, a couple of quick sessions in court, and a settlement. We got the house and some more money (YAY!) and Ron was gone. Ron gone. And me with a lot of his silver. Good. And the start of a long healing process for Robbie and me. 

Once our very unstable mom/dad/Robbie nucleus was split a new kind of arrangement began between Robbie and me but with much less of the mom/son role we were used to. We had morphed into partners, a new element, each helping the other in managing our healing lives. It took the better part of three years. But we were so relieved the old tension was gone. Robbie was a senior in high school, doing much better, about to graduate. I was selling real estate and making some money. Things were improving steadily and the two of us were growing much closer as we got used to our new, much more stable arrangement. We talked a lot. I listened to him. He shared more of his inner life, and I was more ashamed than ever that I had not paid closer attention before. The change in him was rapid and apparent. The great burden of witnessing the horrible marriage of his parents and the abuse he had received from his father had been lifted from him. Slowly he began to unfold. I could not have been more pleased. 

Then things changed profoundly for me a few months after Robbie had begun college. I can remember the day. I was bringing his clean laundry to his room. I knocked quickly, twice, a habit, and opened his door, thinking he was out, but he was standing there, naked. He was reaching for his shorts, just beginning to get dressed. I had not seen him like this since his puberty and what a surprise. He was beautiful. His body was thin but muscular, with some chest hair, and his cock hung thick and limp over his balls, the whole package nestled in a wreath of thick brown hair. "Jeez,mom," he said, straightening up and turning around to hide himself, but instead presenting me with the sight of his beautiful back and bottom, his well-shaped legs.

"I'm so sorry, honey," I said. "I thought you were out." I put the laundry down on the bed. "You can put it away," I said, wanting to leave immediately when he turned to face me again, and there was that lovely cock of his-- his young, virile masculinity on display for me, so beautiful to look at, like a painting. Several questions jammed my mind. They were: Why am I sorry? Did I do something wrong? What is the assumption behind that apology? Put it away? What had I meant by that, and where did I want him to put it? What exactly did I mean by "it?" Then wondering almost immediately why I was so quick to put a double-meaning on my ordinary remark. What the hell was going on in my mind?

"Do I look OK, mom?"

"You look wonderful," I said. The words just tumbled out of me.

"You think so?"

"Yes, Robbie, you do...I do." I was stammering. "Actually you look very handsome. Lovely."

"It's not too small?"

I looked down at his cock, a safe presumption that that is what he meant. "No." I laughed, a short, nervous laugh. "Actually you are lucky. I mean, I know it gets bigger." I was trying to sound casual but I felt anything but.

"It gets a lot bigger."

I laughed the same laugh again. "I believe you. I mean it looks just fine the way it is. Soft like that." This was so awkward! "Oh my god honey, what am I saying? Maybe I should take my clothes off too, just to be fair." The words, again, came tumbling out of me. We both laughed, the same nervous laugh for both of us, and he brushed it with his hand and moved his hips, making it wiggle, and I thought I could see it begin to swell. I needed to say something more. "Nothing prettier than a naked young man. I promise if you do see me I will let you look. I know you are curious."

No longer laughing he said, "I just want to make sure I am OK," He had moved his hand out of the way and he stood up even straighter, facing me directly, looking right at me, his eyes level, calm and unashamed. 

"Oh, Robbie, you look just fine."

I left the room, shaking inside. And I was wet! Something about that gesture of his with his hand and hips. And then at the end. Presenting himself to me. That was so bold! And he was so handsome and so endearing in wanting me to tell him he was OK. But the words that had come out of me...nothing prettier than a naked young man? Just what the hell did I mean by that? I promised him if he saw me I would let him look. Hello? Virginia?...anybody home? And then again I wondered why I was making this into such a big deal. His nakedness had me completely rattled. 

I went downstairs and made myself a sandwich for lunch. Egg salad. I chopped some celery in it for crunch. I wanted to think, to chew on something.

About a week passed. One evening I was going out to dinner with Brad, another salesman for a rival real estate office whom I had been "seeing" for a couple of months. I was taking my first tentative steps to get out into the world again since the divorce. He was married but his wife traveled a lot in her business and he said they had an "understanding," a "don't ask, don't tell" policy they were both more or less happy with. When we could, we would have a nice dinner at a good restaurant, usually somewhere out of the way, and then go back to the apartment his firm uses for out-of-town commercial real estate buyers. There were a lot of them and they appreciated not being in a hotel. It got used a few times a month. He would check first, of course. The only times I'd seen him really furious were when his wife was away, I was free, but someone was using it. He would have to rent a motel room. He would take me there and fuck me once or twice before bringing me home. 

At first, Brad was a nice guy. Also, I discovered, after we had started sleeping together, he could make me cum. He said he loved me. Of course I didn't believe him but that was OK and it was nice to know what was going to happen when we went out. There was no uncertainty about sex. We both knew the evening would include it so we were quite relaxed and just let the tension build gradually and quietly. 

As a person he was not remarkable--a conventional, predictable man and I would have been bored to death married to him. He just thought about business and making money. But he also had a nice body for a mature man and knew how to use his cock. It was thick too, like Ron's. He would lose control and really give it to me hard, the way I like it when I'm carried away. He said I drove him crazy and I believed him. And he was thrilled that I was happy to do things for him that his wife wouldn't, like blowing him, something I had always liked to do since high school. 

Back then, I felt sorry for the guys I liked well enough to date but didn't want to fuck. It seemed like a good compromise to just suck them off which saved fending them off all night. Also, I discovered I loved doing it. One guy said, when time for yearbook voting came around, he would vote for me as "most likely to suck seed." He said that one night after I had just swallowed a mouthful of his cum in the front seat of his car. He was proud of his pun, smiling at me with affection, pausing, splitting the word in two to make sure I got it. I smiled back at him, conscious that my lips were probably still streaked with his jizz. Nice and decadent. I felt so slutty and loved the feeling! Also, I learned something that night. How casual he was about it. Sex as natural and normal. Something you could joke about in an affectionate way. He was nice to me, too. Never talked to his friends. Treated me with respect. I liked him but there wasn't that snap, that chemistry that at that time I felt had to be there. I never did let him fuck me. A cute kid. He's a Hollywood TV script writer now.

That night, Brad and I had a nice meal, though I noticed that he was drinking a little more than usual, and might even have started earlier, but he seemed OK and we went back to the apartment. Once inside he wasted no time, turning me around to face him, then up against the door, kissing me hard, pressing himself against me, rubbing his hard cock back and forth. 

"Mmm, Brad, such a hurry," I said.

"You drive me nuts, Virginia," he said, and moved his hands up to my breasts, kneading them through my sweater. 

"You'll ruin it," I said, reaching down to rub his hard cock that was straining to get out of his pants. 

"Ruin what?"

"My sweater, silly....why don't you take it off?" He was kissing me, hands all over me. They went down and under my sweater, then up and over my head, taking the sweater with them. It flopped to the floor. He was kissing me again, his hands fumbling with my bra clasp, unclipping it, tossing it aside, my full breasts free and warm in his big hands.

"There are no words..." he said.

I reached down to unbuckle his belt. I was hot and wanted his cock. I needed to get fucked just as much as he did. He helped me get the belt undone and his pants unzipped. I reached in and fished it out and began stroking it.

"To the bedroom," I said, pulling him along by his dick. "Wait," he said. I let go and he went into the kitchen, bringing back a bottle of wine that he had opened earlier when he was checking to make sure the apartment was available, and two glasses. We stumbled into the bedroom. 

While he put the wine and glasses down I got out of my shoes and skirt and stood there in just my panties. I hadn't bothered with hose, knowing what was coming later. He stood by the bed, using one foot to pry his pull-on shoe off, then the other foot for the other shoe. His pants were next. They pooled at his ankles and I pushed him back onto the bed. He took care of his shirt and tie while I peeled his socks off, then his pants. In the future, I thought vaguely, some genius is going to design clothes that are easier to get out of fast. He lifted to help me pull off his underwear. And there he was, thick hard cock pointing up.




A Mom's Story Ch. 01



He pulled me onto the bed with him, then reached down to stroke my pussy. 

"Take my panties off," I said.

He complied by almost ripping them off, reaching down with one hand and pulling them hard down my legs, tearing them in the process. He tossed them on the floor. 

"Easy, baby, I'm right here for you."

"Shut up," he said, rolling on top of me, his legs between mine, forcing them apart.

"Wait," I said. "Can't you go a little slower?"       

"I don't want to wait," he said. He had his cock at my opening and got the head in, then pushed in hard. "Take my cock, Virginia. You're gonna be my fucking whore tonight," he said in a tone that was angry, ominous. I felt a sharp stab of fear, like he was attacking me, threatening me. I called out, "Brad, stop!" 

"Shut up, bitch," he said. I was shocked at that. He had never spoken to me this way before. He began plunging in and out of me, trying, it seemed to me, to hurt me. Anticipating something more normal I was already wet. Otherwise I could have been damaged. As it was, he was thrusting, grunting with each plunge, his hands pawing my breasts, scratching them. 

I forced myself to concentrate and relax and in a few seconds I was OK, but, my god, he was fucking me in a frenzy. I decided to get into it as much as I could until it started to feel OK, then I was with him and responding, wrapping my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, moving with him, taking his hard fucking as best I could. It was thrilling and scary at the same time, sort of like riding a Brahma bull at a rodeo, I imagined, assuming there are women who ride bulls. Anyway, one was fucking me but there was no longer any pleasure for me, no possibility of my cumming. I was just trying to manage him. He was scratching, pinching and pulling at my breasts harder than I like, fucking me like someone deep down inside himself had taken over, a person I didn't know, a crazy side of him that made me shiver.

"You like it this way, don't you, bitch!" He was plunging in and out of me in a frenzy. "I knew it!" 

"Easy, Brad, honey. Relax. I'm here for you." I was cooing into his ear, trying to calm him down as he rammed into me, his breath ragged and labored. Then his thrusting picked up. He was in his own world, paying no attention to me at all, so different from any time we had been together before. He pulled at my hair, hurting me. I knew he was close as his pace picked up, smacking into me as hard as he could until his head went back and he slowed and tensed up and then "Ahh," coming out of him as he reached his orgasm, groaning "Ohh Ooo, Ahh" with his thrusts, his eyes closed. He slowed gradually and then stopped, lying with all his weight fully on top of me. We stayed like that for a few seconds, then he pulled out and rolled over on his back. 

"Jesus, Virginia, that was great," he said, and I realized the pleasant Brad I thought I knew was just his front and that part of him was and always had been a sham. I would see past the nice exterior to his essential ugliness from now on every time I looked at him. He rolled over to his side of the bed and poured us both a glass of wine. He handed one to me. I had sat up and was leaning back against the headboard, looking down at my bruised and scratched breasts. I was stunned and sickened. 

"Brad, what got into you. You scared me."

He looked at me as if he didn't understand that at all. "What are you talking about? I like it that way. I thought you did, too."

"You've never been that rough before," I said.

"I was holding back before," he said. "Get used to it, Virginia. This is the way I like it." He took a big gulp of his wine, swallowing loudly. "Shit, that was great." He took another gulp, then set his wine glass down. "You sure can fuck, baby." He got up and went into the bathroom without bothering to close the door. I heard him fart and then listened to his stream in the bowl. Brad exposed, I thought. Probably his wife found this out on their honeymoon. Suddenly I felt sorry for her.

I sipped my wine, thinking, that's it. I felt dirty and defiled and then, quickly, frightened, realizing I was alone with a man I no longer felt safe with. In my mind I pictured Robbie's face. Why, I don't know. The contrast, I suppose. Robbie's kind eyes. His genuine love for me. I felt anxious and tired. I wanted to go home. Now!

I set glass down and got up in a kind of panic. I wanted to be dressed before he came out of the bathroom. I got my torn panties and put them back on, quickly, hopping from foot to foot, then went out to the living room for my bra and sweater. I put them on out there and went back to the bedroom. Brad was standing just outside the bathroom, his thick cock on its way back up. 

"Hey, Babe, just once? I'm ready to go again."

"Brad, please. I need to go home." I was looking around for my skirt, not at him. "I'm tired and it's getting late." I found it and put it on, still not looking at him, zipping the side zipper. "I have to be at work tomorrow early," I said, balancing on one leg, putting on one shoe, then the other. "Don't you?"

He didn't answer. He was disappointed but didn't object. I was so eager to be rid of him and get home and take a shower. While he got dressed I straightened up the place, grabbing the glasses and bottle and taking them to the kitchen. I washed them in the sink and put them away. I poured out the rest of the wine. The bottle went into the garbage. I wiped down the counter. I glanced around. That was about it. I went back to the bedroom to straighten the covers. Brad was almost dressed. We had gone directly from the door to the bedroom, almost, so the place looked like no one had been there. Except for the sheets, maybe, though we hadn't been under them. I would let someone else worry about that. I was standing by the door when he came out of the bedroom. He looked around, I turned out the lights and we left. 

The ride home was quiet. I was terribly uncomfortable, my panties wet from Brad's semen leaking out of me. My mind was racing ahead, wondering how I was going to end this. I was working on a strategy to keep our relationship at least on the formal, clearly false-friendly manner most people in the real estate business manage to maintain around each other. It's a very competitive business. A lot of agents cordially hate each other. But I would still be seeing him often, and maybe even involved in business transactions. He wouldn't be difficult or make trouble for me, much as he might like to, as he was married and I wasn't and his company would not appreciate his use of the apartment for his private affairs. I had all the leverage over him I needed. 

I saw the light on in Robbie's room as we pulled into our driveway. I turned to Brad. "Thanks for a wonderful evening, Brad. But I'm so tired I can't ask you in. I just need to go to bed."

He looked at me. "You mad, Virginia?" 

"No, Brad, just tired." I leaned over to kiss his cheek while reaching for the door. 

"OK," he said. "I'll call." He seemed reassured. He turned to me. "That was great, Virginia. You're a terrific fuck. I guess I already said that. I mean that sincerely." His breath was a mix of booze and wine. "Glad the cards are on the table. Let's do this again. Soon."

I didn't say anything to that. I just got out of the car and walked to my door, my key out and ready. I opened it, went inside, closed and locked it, all without a backward glance, leaning my back against it, exhaling in relief, exhaling Brad. 

The lights were off inside. I heard Brad back his car out and listened to its fading sound as he drove away, then walked into the kitchen and drank a glass of water. 

"Is that you, mom?" I heard Robbie call out from his room. 

"Hi honey, Yes it's me."

That seemed to satisfy him and I went upstairs to my room and took off my clothes. I put on a robe and went to the hall bath to take a shower. I stayed in there for I don't know how long, covering myself with soap then letting the hot water wash over me, over my bruised skin and bruised spirit. That would never happen again, I vowed. Never again would I let another man treat me like Brad just had, sexual need or not.

Out of the shower I was almost finished drying myself when the door opened and I saw Robbie's shy eyes watching me. He came in, eyebrows up, a small, inquiring smile on his face. He was in his jockey shorts, his bulge prominent. "You said I could see you," he said. 

I turned to look at him. I felt myself blush but I said, "Yes. OK. You may look." I let the towel drop to the floor. Then Robbie pushed his shorts down and stepped out of them. "Robbie, what are you doing?"

"Doesn't seem fair to have something on when you don't," he said, a version, I remembered, of what I had said to him in his room. Again, I was stunned first by his boldness (what a change in my son!), by his beauty, and also the contrast between his beauty and the beast I had just been with. I watched his eager eyes absorb the apparition my full body must have been for him. I hoped mine was the first real woman's body he had ever seen, just standing there in front of him for his admiration and inspection.

"You're so beautiful, mom," he said.

"Thank you, honey." I couldn't take my eyes off him. "You look pretty good yourself." He was breathtaking, his young manhood almost completely engorged, so proud of itself, almost preening for me. I thought about water witchers. Then I saw his eyes drop to my breasts and the red scratch trails and bruises on them.

"What happened? Did Brad do that to you?" he asked.

"It's nothing," I said. "Don't worry about it, Robbie. I'm fine."

Robbie looked at me. He stepped closer, an arm's length away, his expression grave. 

He asked again. "Did Brad do that to you?"

"Yes, honey, but don't worry. I'm fine."

"Mom, if he hurts you I'll kill him." The tone of his voice frightened me. It was calm, direct and came so quickly from him. He sounded like an adult, free from doubt and full of determination. Not a boy's voice anymore. Neither was his gaze on me. He reached out his hand and his fingers touched the scratches on my breasts, touching and tracing them ever so lightly and gently, the tips brushing my nipples. I was transfixed., my nipples hardening instantly. "I'm not kidding, mom. If he ever does anything to you, anything, I will hurt him. Badly." There was no hint of bravado in his voice. Instead I heard his resolve and I knew he meant what he was saying. It was thrilling and alarming at the same time. I didn't want him fighting Brad. 

"Robbie, don't worry," I said, looking at him, seeing his eyes on my breasts. "I'm fine. And please don't talk like that. I'm not going to see him anymore."

"Because of this?"

"Yes, but please, it's over between us. We won't be seeing him anymore."

"We'd better not. I never did like him."

"You should not be touching me, Robbie."

He looked at me and started to say something but stopped himself. He stepped closer, one hand on my waist, the other on my shoulder, pushing me back against the wall, a step at a time, then pressing himself to me. I could feel the heat of his thick cock against my leg. I was in a trance as his face approached mine, his eyes so intent and focused on me. He kissed me on my mouth, his lips, open, soft and full on mine, moving back and forth . I felt his tongue probing and I opened my mouth to take him, meeting his tongue with my own. He pulled me closer, moving his hips back so his cock could move from my leg to my mound, then pressing it against me, rubbing it back and forth in my pussy hair while his kiss continued. 

As a sort of defensive move I reached down and grabbed it, wrapping my fingers around it, wanting to move it away but when I did that he pressed harder against me, and started to move himself against me, my hand like a sleeve for his hot, fully charged cock sliding forward and back.  My breasts were mashed against his chest. I was startled by his boldness. I let him. I let it happen. I wanted the kiss to go on and on. I was on fire, my response, its intensity such a surprise to me, and then I felt him tense up, speeding his rapid jutting against me and then a groan from deep inside him and I felt the warm liquid from his cock squirting his seed on me. I had made him cum! 

I shrank back as close to the wall as I could, my head down, but Oh no! he mistook that for me saying "no" when what I wanted was for him to press himself even closer to me. I wanted him to take me. I didn't care about his cumming. I could make that happen again quick. It's just what I like to do when I am sure I want the man, sort of lower my head and relax and wait for his advance. He was still thrusting against me but he misunderstood and pulled back. I should have said something but couldn't.

"Jesus, mom," he finally managed to say. "I guess I'm sorry but...." His breathing was very rapid. I thought I could see the expression on his face shifting with strobe rapidity from assertive young man to scared kid and back again. Like he was right on the cusp of something. "I couldn't help it." I looked at him, his face a tangle of desire and confusion. He stroked my temple, kissed me again on my cheek and then on my mouth. A soft lovers kiss that lingered, then our lips brushing back and forth until I leaned my head back to look at him.

"Honey that's OK.." I needed to say something more but I was just as confused about what to do as he was. My hand was still on his cock, milking it reflexively, and then I let it go. It wasn't in me to tell him to take me and I knew it was unfair of me to expect him to know what I wanted him to do. "Robbie," I said. I was stammering. "We have to be careful. What are we doing?" What are we doing, indeed! Why did I say that? I knew perfectly well what we were doing and I wanted it to happen. 

He stepped back, looking down at himself, half erect, thick and potent. Gathering itself. "I know what I want to do, mom he took my hand and put it back on his cock, See what you do to me?" Then he pulled me toward him and kissed me again, his cock against me and I returned his kiss and pressed myself back at him. Then he broke away, turned and left the room. 

I stood there trembling, still feeling his lips on mine, feeling the touch of him in my hand, like sunglasses you think are tipped up on your forehead but are not there anymore. I wanted to follow him to his room. I needed to be held and comforted, to have his body against mine, and feel him, my darling son, making me feel safe and loved. I was looking for Robbie to make up for the disaster I had just been through. But that was impossible. Or was it? Actually I knew it was not impossible at all. I wanted him like I've never wanted any other man before. 

In bed I lay back, my fingertips touching myself, rubbing what remained of his cum into my skin and my pussy, imagining the scene with him on top of me, his hard heat inside me moving with his frantic urgency, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me, the feel of his body against mine, his lips on mine. If I could keep my head about me and relax I would be able to let this happen--hold and caress him, encourage and invite his urgency, invite him to fuck me. I would welcome him inside me. I would teach him how to treat a woman. Yes, I could do that and would love every second of it. And he would be teaching me too, but what I would learn I wasn't sure. I thought maybe I would experience, at last, what it would be like to give myself without reservation to a man I genuinely loved, this man, who happened to be my son, for the first time in my adult life. 

There was also something very important going on with Robbie–his becoming himself. He was asking me to help him and all I had to do was extend my hand. He is already twice the man his father ever dreamed of being. He just has to realize it. I was thinking it could be the salvation for both of us. That prospect hung there, suspended in my mind, and then, in the arms of the delicious possibilities that now seemed within reach, I drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning I woke early and got dressed for our weekly meeting at work. I was wearing a skirt, blouse and cardigan. I was in the kitchen scrambling eggs when Robbie came in. 

"Morning," he said, standing there, looking at me. 

"Morning, honey, " I said, one hand on the pan handle, the other holding a spatula, meeting his eyes. Then he came over and took my hands. I let go of the pan and spatula and turned to him. He pulled me close to him and kissed me, arms around me, pressing me to him, his front pressed to mine. I melted into him, letting myself relax into him, my hands rubbing his back. He put his hands on my breasts, squeezing and kneading, his mouth open and urgent on mine. 

I twisted my head away. "Wait, Robbie, not now. Please."

"It's all I can think about, mom. You, just you. With me. I need it. From you. No one else but you," he said, his face in my neck, kissing it. 

Music to my ears. "Easy honey. We have to be careful...think about what we are doing." 

"You keep saying that. I've thought about it. I don't think about anything else. I want to do it. The sooner the better." 

His hands felt so good on my breasts. He couldn't possibly know how hot he was making me. "Easy baby. You have to eat your breakfast and get to school. We can talk about this some more tonight."

He took my hand and put it on his cock, rock hard under his pants. "Feel it? I know where it goes, mom. Nature says so. And my guy understands that. Just thinking about it makes him hard."

I flushed with embarrassment at what he was saying. "Yes, I know where it goes, Robbie. And, my god, the way you talk, young man!" In spite of myself I was rubbing it. "And yes, I see it's hard." I moved my hand away. "Now sit down and eat your breakfast." I tried to make a joke. "Nature also wants you to eat something. Please."

In the interval the eggs had gotten overcooked, but we ate them anyway. In spite of the tension I was hungry, ravenous, and gulped everthing down. He did too. Then he was up and off for school and I had to hurry to get to the office on time. 

"Tonight, mom," Robbie said, as he left. I said nothing, not even goodbye, just watched him on his way out, stopping myself from saying "wait!" He could have turned around and taken me right then and I know I wouldn't have stopped him.



To be continued...



A Mom's Story Ch. 02



This is an incest story so the usual warning to those who don't like them. 

If you are new to this story it would be better for you to read Part I first. 

I hope you will leave your comments. I enjoy reading them. 

*

There were fifteen of us at the office for our weekly meeting. The broker was going over sales and new listings and then he pointed to what he thought were promising sales trends and gave us his standard, go-get-`em pep talk. It was like a day off with the meeting first, followed by the open-house tour where we would visit the new listings other brokers were hosting. It gave agents from other offices a chance to look at what was new. There were usually ten or so houses every week and a lot of the hosts served food. Besides seeing the houses it was a chance to mix with the others and gossip. I usually enjoyed it and this week was no exception. 

After the meeting four of us went on tour in my car. It took us an hour and a half to get to the last one, a waterfront house. Once inside the others went off to look around on their own while I went into the kitchen where Sally Simpson, the host and one of the agents I liked, was serving her delicious lasagna. I was having some and visiting with her when Brad appeared. He had been walking past the kitchen on his way to the deck when he glanced in, spotted me and came over. 

"Virginia, we need to talk," he said. He had placed himself between Sally and me, his back to her, shutting her out or acting as if she wasn't there. I wasn't sure which. He didn't appear to notice or care that he was interrupting, and he made it sound as if it were something I was required to do.

"OK." I looked at Sally. She was smiling. I wondered what she was thinking. There was something about Brad's commanding manner that rubbed a lot of agents the wrong way. I put my plate down on the counter and Brad and I moved off toward a quiet spot on the front deck.

He seemed anxious and eager at the same time. "Look, can we get together tonight? My wife's out of town." 

I told him I could meet him for a drink this afternoon but dinner was out. I could see he was disappointed but I didn't care. I turned to look out at the bay. A breeze had created a light chop and the bright sunlight sparkling off the rippling blue water made it look as if it was strewn with diamonds. "What a beautiful day!"

"When?" Brad didn't give a damn about the day.

I turned my attention back to him. "I have a buyer who wants to look at a condo after she gets off work so I'll have to see. I'll call you. I can meet you when I'm done." 

Brad said OK to that, said he would wait for my call, went back inside and in a few minutes he left with his group.

I looked at the house, then went out to my car and drove our group back to the office, enjoying the gossip agents always have about other agents. A lot of sniping goes on.

Back at the office, I was catching up on paperwork, thinking about my encounter with Brad when my cell rang. It was Robbie. At the sound of his voice my heart quickened. His car needed new brakes, he said, and his mechanic called with an unexpected opening. Could he bring it in right away? So he said yes. He said he and some others were going to his friend Ken's house to watch an afternoon baseball game on television and asked me if he could use my car. He'd be back at 8 or so. I said OK and told him I could get a ride home with one of the other agents. 

I checked myself out at the front desk and drove to the mechanic's shop. I picked up Robbie and he rode with me back to the office. We hardly spoke. The tension between us in the car was intense, as if we were waiting for a starter gun of some kind. I parked in my reserved space, a more or less private spot in the corner of the lot where the employees parked. We both just sat there for a few seconds. Then I turned to him. The look on his face! He wanted me and I wanted him and we both knew it showed. 

"OK, well, be careful driving. I'll see you later. "

"I don't care about the game so call me if there's a problem. I could be home a lot earlier." 

"I'll be fine, honey. You have fun and I'll see you when you get back. I'll have dinner ready." 

He was fidgeting, wanting to say something else but couldn't get it out. Instead he leaned over to kiss me and I made it easier by moving to meet his mouth with mine. I felt his fingers on my neck, then he moved his lips to my ear. I felt the tip of his tongue just rimming the edge, then lightly in the hole. That drives me nuts. He kissed me on my mouth again and moved his hand up to cup my breast. 

I pulled away. "Robbie, stop. Not here. Someone will see us. I have to get going."

"Damn!" he said. His breath whooshed out of him as he sank back in his seat. "OK. Sorry...you're right." He opened his door and started around the front of the car to my side, fixing himself on the way. He held the door open while I got out of the car. I was flustered myself. I couldn't be alone with him for two seconds, it seemed, without being turned on and I was impressed by how fast he could get hard.

"Thanks, mom. See you tonight."

"Bye, honey," I said, and walked toward the office in a manner I hoped would seem casual to anyone who might be looking. But I wanted to look back, and at the door I turned to watch him as he drove away down the street. 

Even back at my desk I could still feel his tongue in my ear. Where the hell had he learned that stuff? Not from his girlfriends. I made a quick mental scan of his former women teachers from his high school days. Could he have been seeing one of them? There were a couple of likely candidates, wholesome looking women but then I thought of my own inner slut I had been cultivating so carefully over the years. It was possible, I thought, but probably not. I was getting paranoid.

I spent the rest of the afternoon shuffling papers, it seemed, from one file to another and back again. I did manage to set up an inspection for a house I had a signed offer on, made some phone calls, and did some other stuff. Later, my buyer called about the showing, said she could get off work early and was happy to drive after I explained where my car was. 

She took about a half hour at the condo and seemed very pleased. She said she would call me before noon tomorrow. I think she's going to make an offer. She should. It's perfect for her. Then she drove me back to the office and left. I thought about my meeting with Brad, took a minute to compose myself and picked up the phone. 

"Hi, it's me."

"I've been waiting for your call." He sounded annoyed. 

"I just got back. The showing went well. My buyer said she loved the unit but she still wants to think it over, probably check with her bank. I told her not to take too long." All she could do was lose, and then I thought that advice applied to me as well. I needed to break this off, tonight. "Look, can you pick me up? Robbie has the car. He won't be back until later. I can't do dinner but a drink sounds good. How about Melody Lane?" He said OK and would be right over. I liked the lounge. It was quiet and close to home. I felt comfortable there.

It was a little after 5 pm. Neither of us said much on the drive over. Once at a table we ordered and talked idly about this and that until the waitress brought our drinks--gin and tonic for me, a double bourbon for Brad. We talked business for a while. He finished his first in no time and ordered a second round. The cool gin slipped down my throat smoothly, easing the nervousness I had been feeling since getting into Brad's car. I wasn't over the last time and still felt uneasy being alone with him. I knew too much about him ever to be relaxed around him again. Finally Brad said, "Jan is out of town for a week. I don't like batching. Not good at it."

"Well, not so hard nowadays. We get take-out all the time. It's good."

"Yeah, I know." He was nervous, jumpy. The waitress brought our drinks over, setting my second one next to my unfinished first one. I was thinking again about Robbie. Maybe it was one of his girlfriends after all. They look so goddamn innocent, those sweet, scrubbed-looking things. Probably some of them have been fucking for years already...years...while I was still a virgin at their age. And then, I thought, I guess that's not right...I wasn't...but still...

Brad started talking about national politics, bringing me back to the moment. He's a conservative. I was surprised to realize that I didn't know that. He was talking the usual line about cutting government programs, lowering taxes, reducing excise taxes on real estate transfers, stuff that bored me silly. I was still angry with him but I needed to stay calm. He seemed to want to get drunk.

Then he got to his point. "All I think about is being with you again, Virginia. I thought we could go to my house tonight."

Just in time, I thought. His house. He wanted to step this up a notch. Maybe two. I leaned forward, my hands folded together, looking straight at him. I said, as kindly as I could manage, "Look, Brad, we need to talk." I thought about saying I needed some "space," but that didn't sound right. "I need to spend more time at home. Robbie's in college now and it's been a tough few years for him what with the break-up and all and he's at a vulnerable age."

"Hell, he's eighteen. A man now," Brad said impatiently, signaling the waitress for a third round. I waved off another drink for myself.

I thought, yes, Brad, he's a man now. That's why I want to stay home more often. I also felt a stab of anger that this selfish...what was he?...OK, person...would have an opinion on a subject on which his ignorance was almost total, and that was a lot more important to me than it was to him.

"He's been through a lot."

"He's just seeing his first batches of shit hitting his fan," Brad said. He took a gulp of his bourbon. I wondered if he ever sipped anything. "That's life, Virginia. Being grown up means shit hitting your fan, over and over." Thanks for clearing that up, Brad, I thought. "You think you have it cleaned up and then another big, soft, turd comes flying, and someone turns the fan up faster."

There it was. The World According To Brad. Such an elegant man.

"He's been through more than his share of unhappiness, Brad, and so early." 

He took another gulp of his drink, tapping his fingernails on the table while his eyes darted around the room, avoiding mine. He looked very unconvinced. I was thinking the world is as bad as it is because it has so many people in it like Brad. The alcohol was doing its work and I was feeling mellower but it wasn't having the same effect on him. He was getting moodier. He ordered another double for himself, guessing correctly that I didn't want any more. 

"I think I should be getting home. You're really belting these down."

"OK. We go after this one."

"I need to say this, Brad. I don't think this is working out. I don't feel comfortable about last time. Maybe we should take a break." There it was. I had gotten it out. 

The waitress brought him his drink. He glanced up at her, then took it, sliding it in front of him. He was looking down into the glass. "One of my deals fell through today."

"Which one?"

"The condominium project." He picked up the drink, looking into it, swirling it, and took a gulp. "Boy, that was some commission. Down the toilet."

His bathroom metaphors were getting to me. I almost said , "shit happens," but decided against it. I sipped my gin and tonic. I really like them, I thought. One of the few mixed drinks that taste good to me so long as you pick the brand and don't go with the bar gin. I liked Bombay. Then I noticed how easily my mind was wandering and realized I was no longer interested in Brad's problems. 

"I'm sorry, Brad. Nowadays it seems like an exception when something finally actually closes."

He was quiet, then looked up at me, a flat expression on his face. "So you want to give it a rest?"

Was this an opening he was extending? "Yes. I think it would be best for us both. I want a less complicated life. Like I said, I want to spend more time at home."

He drained his drink. "OK. You're the boss." He brought the glass down hard enough on the vinyl top to make the change on the table bounce. "Whatever you say. Come on, I'll drive you home."

We stood up. Even though I knew he was angry, I thought, well, that was easy as he left what money remained on the table and we walked out. 

In the car he was quiet. The house was only about a mile away on a street without much traffic. He didn't talk, but he reached into his jacket inside pocket and pulled out a flask. He flipped open the top with his thumb and tipped it up but it was almost empty. He just got a sip. "Shit," he said, and tossed it over his shoulder to the back seat without looking. Then he bent down, keeping his eyes on the road, and got a second one he had stashed under the front seat. He flipped that top open and took a long pull. It was like I wasn't even in the car with him and I was getting worried but his driving still seemed OK. He wasn't speeding or weaving. 

"We'll just take some time off from each other and see what we think in a month or so," I said, trying to be chatty and leaving the door open maybe just a little for him, but I wasn't really sympathetic with him at all and just wanted to get away from him. I was noticing the distance to my house getting shorter and shorter. I was calculating stop signs and lights but he managed them OK.

He didn't comment on that or say anything else until we pulled up to the curb. The garage door was closed. I couldn't tell if Robbie was home or not, but probably not. The game wouldn't be over for a while. "Thanks, Brad. Take care...I'll see you soon," I said as I opened the door and started out. 

"Wait. I'll walk you in."

"No, no, I'm fine. No need. See you later, Brad."

"I'll walk you in," he said, as if he hadn't heard me. He opened his door and was out and around the car before I could get my door closed. He took my upper arm, squeezing enough to make it hurt, pulling it up, propelling me along with him like I was an errant child, but I didn't want to say anything or make a fuss while we were still outside and the neighbors could see us.

At the door, still concerned about the neighbors, I opened it and turned to say goodbye when Brad, smoothly, as if I had asked him, stepped past me inside, pulling me with him. I would have had to block him to stop him.

"Brad, I don't want you inside." His invasion scared me. "You're drunk. You need to leave."

"We need to talk, Virginia," he said as he kicked the door shut. Still holding me by my arm he pulled me into the living room and shoved me down on the sofa like I was a sack of potatoes.

"I needed you to say `yes' when I asked you to see me tonight. And you said `no.'"

"I can't, Brad. I don't want to see you anymore."

"You don't want to see me? Is that right? Well, what about my dick?" He pulled his zipper down and took his cock out, waggling it up and down. "Suck it for me, bitch!"

"Brad, this is crazy. You need to leave. Right now!"

I started to get up but he pushed me back down. "I said, suck it, bitch!" he said. He kicked his loafers off and unfastened his pants, letting them drop.

I realized, to my growing alarm, that I was trapped in my own house. "Brad, are you out of your mind? Get out! Now!" Again I tried to stand up but he pushed me back down, more roughly this time. Like a punch.

"Or you'll what?" He was leaning over, staring at me and I couldn't read his expression. What'll you do? You've done it before. I want it again. I think you need to give it to me. You ever been raped?"

"Jesus Christ! Brad, what's gotten into you?" I got to my feet this time as he was kicking his pants and shoes off. He pulled me to him and kissed me but I kept my mouth closed and twisted away. I felt a blow and a sharp pain on the side of my head by my ear. He had hit me! I was stunned. "Brad! You hit me!" 

"You should have listened before," he said. He jerked my cardigan off and ripped open my blouse. "Too late now." He turned me around and yanked the blouse off, then pulled at my bra until the clasp gave. He tore it off and flung it to the floor.

I was struggling with him, but he was too strong. "Brad, stop or I'll scream!" 

"Who's going to hear you, bitch? You scream and I'll knock your teeth out!" His cock was now hard. He'd gotten out of his boxers and there it was, fully erect, purpled, evil looking.

I turned to look at him. "You are really scaring me, Brad...I mean it...stop this immediately!"

"Skirt next, bitch." I was doing the best I could to stop him, fighting with my hands, trying to push him away but he ignored my fists, got the button unbuttoned and the zipper down, pushed my skirt and panties down, then shoved me back onto the couch, leaned over and pulled them both off, my shoes with them. I was naked, vulnerable. 

"This is crazy, Brad...You don't know what you're doing!"

He jerked me off the couch and pushed me to the carpet. "I need it and you're going to give it to me. Or I'm going to take it...Man I'm going to love this. I've always wanted to fuck you when you didn't want to. Shove it in! Rape you!"

"Brad, stop! Please! Just stop it!"

He got down on the carpet and straddled me, but with one leg bent across my legs so I couldn't knee him. I was pounding my fists against his chest when I saw the motion of his arm from the side, then felt the stab of pain and heard the hard slap against the side of my head. 

"Brad, that hurts! Have you lost your mind?"

Then I saw his hand coming back and felt another hard slap with the back of his hand on my cheek. A mean smile appeared on his face as he watched the fear on mine. Then the smile faded, replaced by an expression that was a mix of hatred and menace, all of it focused on me.

I was thinking as fast as I could, but fear of what this man might do to me had taken over my mind. "Brad, please stop it, you're hurting me!"

"Then stop fighting me, bitch, and shut the fuck up!" He began scratching and pulling at my breasts, slapping them. Another movement from the side, then the sharp sound and sting of his hand hitting my cheek. Hard. It hurt. I was squirming underneath him. I would try anything.

"Brad, listen! You want a blow? OK. Relax. It's yours." I thought if I could make him cum his rage would evaporate.

"Now? You think I'm gonna put my cock in your mouth now, bitch? You think I'm stupid? You'll bite!" He slapped me again, harder this time. "I would kill you if you did that!" He was glaring at me. "After all I've been through and you want to hurt me!"

His rage had taken him over completely. I could taste blood in my mouth. "Brad, Brad, what is happening...I don't understand...Why are you doing this?"

"Because I hate your guts, you spoiled bitch! Because you said `no,' because I want to make you hurt! Like me!" He wasn't calling me by my name anymore and I wondered who he thought I was. I was shaking in terror. I felt him move his body down. I could feel his cock over my mound and his knees forcing my legs apart. I opened my eyes to see his, lost, drifted away in a crazed world only he could see.

"Heeeere's Johnny!" he snarled at me, and pushed his cock at my dry opening, trying to force himself in. I moved my hips and thigh and managed to push him aside. 

I screamed, "Robbie! Robbie!"

"He ain't here, bitch! Ha ha ha!" He tried again, but again I was able to deflect him. "Might as well take it, bitch. You're gonna get fucked, by me, Brad, your lover man!"

He had my hands by the wrists, holding them behind my head. I tried to bite him. He laughed. I felt the head of his cock just at my entrance despite my trying to deflect him, and a surge of panic rose up. I was not going to be able to stop this monster when suddenly there was a rush, a blur, then Brad being jerked away. I felt his cock leave me. 




A Mom's Story Ch. 02



"What the fuck..." Brad said, and I saw Robbie in his bathrobe, throwing Brad on his back. He came over to me. "Mom, are you OK?"

I saw Brad get up, his face contorted in rage. "Robbie!" I screamed.

Brad dragged him away from me, pulling the robe down from his shoulders so his arms were trapped. He turned him around and punched him hard in the stomach. The blow doubled him over only to meet Brad's knee on the way up, hitting him on his jaw. 

"Motherfucking piece of shit!" he snarled. 

"Robbie! Robbie!" I was screaming. 

Robbie, still dazed from the knee, took the full force of Brad's next blow to his jaw, sending him across the room to the floor. Brad turned back to me. I hadn't had time to do anything, anything.

"Hey, sonny boy, I want you to watch this," he said. "I want you to watch your mother getting fucked." He laughed once, a short, mirthless laugh. "And don't get up, shithead, or I'll hurt you, bad."

Brad sank to the carpet, moving over me, again with one leg across mine. He was stroking his cock, keeping it hard. I cringed, wanting to shrink to nothing. "Brad, please don't..."

"Now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted..." He was so drunk, looking at me, a stupid smile on his wretched face. He had forgotten all about Robbie. "Oh yeah...I was about to fuck you..."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Robbie get up. He shook off the robe and in one leap grabbed Brad by the shirt again, pulling him away from me, throwing him back down on the rug. 

"You OK, Mom?" Again he was bending over me. I nodded to him. I thought I was OK but I was too terrified to speak.

Brad got quickly to his feet. "So you want some more, do you, Robbie boy? I'm going to hurt you this time."

Robbie turned to face him. Brad swung again but his momentum made him stagger. Robbie easily side-stepped him and hit him on his way by, a glancing blow. 

Brad looked shocked. Another person, a real other person, had actually struck him. He was glaring at Robbie, rubbing his jaw, standing there in his socks, in his jacket, opened shirt and loosened tie, his now soft cock hanging down. Then a groan of rage came out of his core as he lurched toward Robbie, fists flailing, hitting him again. 

This time Robbie partially blocked his punch and took the blow without falling or staggering. He looked calm, focused on Brad. Brad was now gathering himself for another charge but Robbie hit him once, twice, like a jab but harder, on his jaw and nose. I could see a trickle of blood start out of Brad's nose. He licked at it, felt it with his fingers, saw the blood on them, a puzzled expression, a "what's this?" on his face. 

The sight enraged him even more and he lunged at Robbie, but he side-stepped him again. Brad whirled and swung as hard as he could but Robbie ducked out of the way and then, from almost his feet, I saw his fist coming up in a smooth accelerating arc that hit Brad with full force flush on his jaw, a blow that sent him sprawling to the floor. The sound was sickening, as if bones might have been broken. Brad made an effort to get up, then faltered and fell back.

"Get dressed and get out!" Robbie stood a few feet away, watching him, his fists clenched and ready. Brad got to his feet unsteadily, grabbed his pants and put them on. It took his concentration to get his foot in each pant leg. He almost fell. He was now bleeding from his nose and his mouth. Then he got into his shoes, grabbed his underwear and started for the door.

"Never come back!" Robbie said. "Ever!"

Brad left without a word, slamming the door behind him.

Robbie turned to me, the echo of the slamming door still in my ears. Again I beheld him in his striking nudity. His cock, which had receded during the fight, now began to fill again, like a flower in spring, I thought, ridiculously, but the image was there anyway. One of those time-lapse things where you see it grow. 

He knelt down beside me. "You OK, mom?" His voice was quiet, tender. He grabbed a small cushion off the couch for my head.. "What about your face, your jaw. It looks like he was hitting you..."

"I'm OK, I think. Nothing hurts. Teeth are OK...." My heart was still pounding. "You were magnificent. I was so frightened. You saved me. Are you alright? He hit you so hard..."

I lay back, still in shock. Robbie moved off to the kitchen and I heard water running. Then he came back with two dish towels, one wet, one dry. He knelt beside me, carefully dabbing the towel wet with warm water on my mouth, my cheeks, my breasts, then patting them dry with the other. 

"I'm fine. Didn't hurt. I was surprised. Would you like a drink? Some whiskey or something?"

"Yes, whiskey sounds good. Shall I get it?"

"No stay there. Relax. Let me. I'll be right back."

He got up and went back into the kitchen. This time I was recovered enough to see him clearly. He was stunning to look at, his body with his well muscled back and legs and buttocks walking so gracefully and easily, floating and sure, like an athlete, into the kitchen. He came back with two tumblers both almost half full. He set the glasses down, then lay down next to me, a series of movements done like they were part of a dance. He handed me a glass and I sipped. 

He picked up the towel again, dabbing at the scratches on my breasts. "How could a guy hurt someone like you?" he asked. "Jesus, he's stupid."

"Is your hand OK?"

He dropped the towel and opened and closed it quickly a couple of times in front of my eyes, watching it. "Seems fine. Doesn't hurt." He picked the towel back up and dabbed again at my at my cheeks, mouth and my breasts.

He looked up at my face, scanning it. "You're not bleeding anymore. Do you hurt anywhere else? You know..." His hand went down to my mound, cupping it. 

"OK, I think." I put my hand over his. "It's OK. It doesn't hurt." I smiled up at him. "He didn't...you know...I feel fine...I was terrified he would but he didn't..."

He took his hand away to pick up his glass. He took a sip , then offered me some. He held it to my lips and I sipped. 

"He didn't hurt you..." he said. I heard the relief in his voice. 

"No, it's fine...I got rid of him--I mean, you did--not the way I wanted to but he's gone and I'm fine...I'm still so frightened, honey. Can you just hold me for a little?" 

"Yes, sure." He set the glass down and pulled me to him, his arms around me, holding me close. We stayed that way, our bodies pressed together, for a minute or so. I could feel his cock, reassuringly hot and hard against me. I was thrilled that it was.

"You're sure you're OK, mom?"

"Yes I'm fine. I can't tell you what a relief this is...what an experience...I was terrified...."

He pulled me even closer to him, his arms around me, holding me. "Relax, mom, relax..." He held me for a few minutes, rocking me with him, back and forth. His body felt so wonderful against mine. My tension had drained away almost completely, replaced, to my joy, by desire. He moved back, looking at me, wanting to be reassured himself, it seemed. "You look OK and you sure feel good..." 

I thought, now is the time to say it. "I'm fine. I feel so much better...I'm so happy we're together like this...everything's OK...I mean we can...if you want to...I guess, I mean I hope, we're going to, aren't we..." 

"I want to," he said. "How do you feel about it?"

"Excited."

"Me too." He moved in closer beside me, offering me my tumbler again, lifting my head and bringing the glass to my lips. "Sip." I did, taking a bigger one this time, feeling the liquid slide down my throat, coating my stomach, the warmth spreading over me like a wave of new heat in a cool room. The liquor was working. I felt safe again. He took a drink himself, then settled down beside me, his hand on my belly, stroking it.

"I'm not acting on impulse here," he said. He had a shy smile on his face. "Not like last time. I think I'm going to need your help. How do I go about this?"

"Well, let's see." I pushed the cushion out of the way and faced him. I took the tumbler again and took another long sip. I set it down. "We seem to be drinking a lot," I said. 

"Just sips," he answered. 

I was looking at him, happy, eager to be with this beautiful young man. Brad had disappeared from my mind completely. "I could try to stimulate you, stroke your lovely cock." I ran my fingertips over it. "But he looks all fueled and ready to go...fat and sassy...I suppose you should kiss me. I mean, that is what a gentleman usually does."

Robbie kissed me, pulling me to him, his cockhead nestling in my pussy hair. He was rubbing my back and bottom and I was doing the same to him.

"Mmmm that's lovely, baby." I was pushing my breasts against his chest, rubbing them back and forth. "Do they feel good? Why don't you touch them..."

He kissed me again, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I met his with mine, probing, wet flesh gliding over probing, wet flesh. He cupped my breasts.

"So soft, mom, they feel so soft."

"Pinch the nipples a little. I like that. Pull on them..." 

He did, shifting his body even closer to me, then moved me onto my back, his body over mine.

"We're going to fuck, we're going to love each other, Robbie. You and me." I opened my legs for him, adjusted my hips, moved my knees up so I could push up to meet him. "My body is all yours, honey, to take and enjoy."

"I can't believe this. I want this so bad and here it is."

"It's happening, Robbie, I want it, too..."

His cock was just over my opening. He pushed, but he was a little too high. I reached down to hold it with my fingertips, just below the head, and moved it down. "Yes, right there, Robbie...push in, baby..."

He did. I felt his head by my lips, pushing in and I came, suddenly, intensely. "Oooh! I said, as he was sliding into my welcoming body, slow and steady and then when he was all the way in I came again, another "Oooh!," a longer orgasm like I had never experienced in quite the same way, and then he started stroking me, in and out.

"This is incredible..."

"Yes isn't it." My breathing was ragged.

"Anything's OK?"

"Anything's OK."

"I can't describe the feelings..."

"Just revel in them...love them...let them take you over," I said, my voice in a rush. He settled into a steady stroking, then began to speed up. "Take your pleasure, Robbie, don't hold back. Let go..."

His body took over and he was being carried along, riding us both up and up and up until I could hear his groans and feel his hot fluid spurting into me, his body jerking, heaving against me, pulsing, his expression a mixture of pleasure and amazement as he thrust and thrust into me, and I came for a third time. He collapsed down on me, his weight not fully on me. He was still breathing hard, his arms around my neck and back. 

"I never thought anything could feel so good...."

I was rubbing the back of his head, holding it against my neck. I whispered in his ear, "That's why it's so popular..."

He laughed, lifting his head to look at me and kissed me. "I want to do this all night long."

"Yes, we can do that. You can have me any time you want. Stay inside me, honey. It feels so good. You don't want to get up, do you?"

"No, I'm fine." He was calmer now and breathing easier. 

I moved my hands to his head, lifting it, looking up in his eyes. "I forgot to ask. Why were you home so early? I thought the game would last longer."

"We were hanging out at Ken's house. I didn't feel like watching baseball. I was bored and thinking of you, wondering what the heck I was doing there so I came home." He was supporting himself on his elbows, his fingertips on my face, around my ears, in my hair. "I didn't hear you come in. I was in my room. I had my Ipod on. Had the music turned up. I went into the bathroom to take a shower. I took it off and was about to get in when I heard you yell my name. Scared the hell out of me. I knew it was Brad. I grabbed the robe and came down."

"I would have been raped."

"No one's going to rape you while I'm around," he said.

I could feel him growing hard again.

"I'm still hungry for you, baby."

"I can't believe this, mom."

"Fuck me, Robbie. Fuck me good."

He began moving inside me again, ripples of pleasure flooding through me at each stroke. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He was kissing me, feeling my breasts.

"Keep stroking me, honey. Your cock feels like heaven..." I reached down to his bottom, pulling him even closer to me.

"You're holding me so tight. I had no idea it would feel this good..."

"I wish you could feel what I feel. You've already made me cum three times..."

"I have?"

"Yes didn't you hear me? Feel me shudder?"

"Yes."

"You were making me cum."

"Makes me feel good to know that."

"You are my lover now."

"I don't want another woman, mom. Just you."

"Fuck me harder, baby. Make me cum again. I want to feel you cum too. Do it to me, Robbie!"

He was fucking me in long steady strokes. I moved with him and sped up as he did, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts. He did that for several minutes, then he began to move even faster and I knew we were on our way up the pleasure stair to heaven once again, moving faster and faster until he exploded in me with his loud groans and flexing body, twitching and jerking as he plunged himself as deeply in me as he could. I reached my orgasm almost with him, moaning myself, my face buried in his neck, his cock still caressing me, and we stayed like that as we both ebbed, just gradually relaxing for a minute or so. Then he rolled off me onto his back, his arm over his eyes, his cock, still wet from my body, limp against his thigh.

I turned on my side, facing him, watching him for a few seconds. "You look wonderful, Robbie, like a young god," I said. 

He had moved his arm and was watching me watching him. He was not quite serious, not quite smiling. "I'd take you over Venus any day. You're prettier, you have a better figure"...he smiled at me... "and you have both arms...I wish I was a painter."

I ran my hand up and down his stomach and down to hold his cock. "I want to put this in my mouth."

"Really? You would?"

"Yes, I'd love to." I was stroking it, my hand holding it, not tight, just an easy stroking. "I want to pleasure you in lots of different ways."

He turned to me and put his hand on my mound, cupping it. "I want to put my mouth down there."

"Really? You would?"

He smiled. "Yes. I'm told I have a talented mouth and tongue."

I moved closer to him. "I knew it! OK. Who was she? One of your teachers in high school, wasn't it?" I was genuinely curious. I wanted to know. "Which one? That Rita Williams, your pretty English teacher...wasn't it...always giving you A's...and those notes on your papers...Or maybe one of your girlfriends? I knew it when you put your tongue in my ear. Who taught you that stuff?"

He was looking at me, amused. "Well, maybe I'll tell you. Maybe I won't." He stopped and looked down at his fingertips that were tracing a pattern on my stomach, then up at me again. "Actually, there haven't been any others. This was my first time. You are my first." He looked at me. "I don't know what to say. I'm such a different guy now from when dad was around. These last few years with you have made all the difference. I felt lost but now everything is different. You saved me, mom..."

A flood of affection for him came over me. "Robbie, honey, I finally did something right. You saved me, too, I want you to know." I kissed him. Then a wonderful thought occurred to me. "In the only way that counts, Robbie, tonight you were my first as well."

He didn't say anything to that. We lay, side by side, for a few moments, just looking at each other, touching each other, the rest of the evening and night and a lot of tomorrows stretching out in front of us with all their exquisite promise. 

"I bet you are hungry," I said. "I could make us something to eat."

"I sure am," he said. "Sounds wonderful. Make a lot. We'll be busy tonight."

So that is what I did, and for the next several years we were together, through college and through his law school years. I don't think his fiance, Abby, knows about us. She is a beautiful girl and we've become good friends. She is also very smart. She will make him a very good wife. I'm so proud of them both. 

And Brad. Oh yes, Brad. After that night we didn't talk much. Aside from being very embarrassed I think he was probably afraid I would press charges. I almost did. It was a close call but I decided his anger had been directed specifically at me. And that was after a very bad day for him and way too much booze. I didn't think he was a general threat to others. So I just let it drop, happy to be rid of him. Word through the grapevine was that he was in AA after getting pulled over for driving drunk. I hope they help. We've never had a transaction together and I'm not looking forward to it if we do. But that's it. Nothing came of it and he's sort of faded away in my mind, in my life. He was just a mistake. Even though all that happened fairly recently, I feel it happened to someone else. I'm a different person now.

My cell rang. It was Robbie, on his way to pick me up. I went into the hall powder room to give myself a final check. I patted my jacket pocket. The rings were there. And then, in a few minutes, so was Robbie, so handsome in his smart, blue suit!

We talked quite a lot about the ceremony, the reception and honeymoon on our way to the church. They are going to Maui. We were both excited. This was just a change. Not goodbye. They will practice here. Neither wants to live anywhere else. Their first apartment is midway between her parents' house and mine. I will never refuse him and he doesn't want to give me up, either. It won't be like before, of course, but, occasionally... After the honeymoon, we'll get together and make an arrangement. We've already talked about it.

At the church he went back to the waiting room while I stayed outside, talking to friends and a few of the ushers. There were lots of people, my and Robbie's friends, the bride's family and friends, maybe a couple of hundred people all told.

Then the reverend came up to us and said the ceremony was about to start so I went back to join Robbie. Everything went perfectly. Abby looked so lovely, and not blushing but radiant, and I knew why. I felt a twinge of envy for her youth and her place in his life, but, you know, I know that's the way it is.

After the ceremony we went to the bride's father's club for the reception, which was also a joyous affair. Lots of drinking. But not so much the couple, I noted with approval. Everyone was in good spirits, including myself. It went on for a couple of hours and then they disappeared to get dressed for their departure.

They came out and made their way toward their car amid applause and cheers. The car was unfestooned with cans or anything else, a cliche avoided, I noted with further approval. She did throw her corsage to the bridesmaids. I didn't see who caught it. And there was the festive rice tossed on them, cooked, I noted, Abby's idea. They looked so happy and I was so happy for them. 

I saw him open the car door for his beautiful bride, then went around to the driver's door. Just before he got in he looked around the crowd gathered on the club steps until he saw me, then smiled and waved and blew me a kiss. I blew one back to him. He got in, started the car, and they drove away to more applause, cheers and hand-waving from the guests, some of whom went into the street, waving after them.

I suppose I might have expected to be sad but I wasn't. I did feel some letdown, an emptiness, but that was short lived. Tonight would be the first of several quiet nights for me, but my life was otherwise full with work and other things I was interested in, and he would be back. So there was that small sadness, but it was so outweighed by the pride I took in him, in my lovely son, once my beautiful baby boy, then my energetic kid, then my struggling adolescent, and now my adult son. Those images were all whirling together in my mind, and I could see each stage of him over that long span of time, less distinct but there, in the next: my precious baby, my perpetual-motion kid, the emerging Robbie, and now, finally, miraculously it seemed to me, my marvelous and so, so interesting, grown man son.



A Mom's Story



I don’t know if it was the alcohol or my sexual excitement but my head was spinning I leaned back and closed my eyes as Jerry drove us home, I didn’t do anything when his hand moved over and rested on my bare thigh. I just sat back and reveled in the exciting wonderful feeling creeping up my leg to my already soaked pussy. The damp suit clinging to my shaved mound made every movement an exciting event. Jerry’s hand kept slipping higher and my thighs kept opening for him. I was so ready. The desire and needs of my body were in control the alcohol having repressed my rational thought processes. “God what a rationalization, I wanted him. I needed a man. I was feeling like a woman again for the first time in years.

We arrive home and Jerry had to help me form the car. I put my arm around his shoulder his arm around my waist as we went in from the garage. As we entered the kitchen I slumped against him his hand sliding up and cupping my breast. I looked into his eyes and pulled his lips to mine kissing him hard pushing my tongue into his mouth.  “I love you Jerry.” I told him. “I want to show you how much.” I pressed my body against him and felt his throbbing manhood pressing into my tummy.  His hands pushed the straps of my dress down moving to cover my breasts. I almost came as his hands passed over my nipples that were so hard they showed through the cups of my suit. He lifted me and carried me into the den where I had first seen him and his girlfriend. He laid me on the couch I watched as he rolled the straps of my suit from my shoulders, pulling it down freeing my breasts from the confinement just as he had done to Jennifer on this very couch.

“Oh yes Jerry.” I moaned. He lifted my heavy breast to his lips sucking my hard aching nipple into his warm mouth. “Aaahhaaaa,” I groaned as he sucked greedily like he was trying to suck the milk from my breast like he did when he was little.  He sucked and chewed on my left breast while he caressed and teased my right breast and nipple. He sucked and nibbled and my body shook as my first orgasm surged from my toes to my hair. When I opened my eyes he was naked his throbbing cock bouncing each time his heart beat. He pushed my dress up around my waist and I lifted my bottom so he could roll the clinging suit down over my hips.  I reached for him feeling the fierce heat of his throbbing manhood and sensed he could not last I opened my legs pulling my knees up and apart guiding him to my entrance. He pushed forward piercing me with his shaft. He was so thick I felt like a virgin bride again being filled so full. I locked my legs around his bottom pulling him deeper moaning, “Yes, yes, yes, love me fuck me.” over and over as each inch slid into me until his course pubic hair was rubbing my bare mound. I clung to him as he found the instinctive rhythm of love. We were both gasping with each stroke as he drove into me and I humped back up to meet his thrusts, each thrust bringing us higher and closer to explosion. Then a deep groan and a mighty plunge to my very depths and we were in heaven together. His hot seed flooding into me filling me until it overflowed mixing with my juice and running down the crack of my ass onto the couch and floor.

We made love like newlyweds until Sunday. We were naked all weekend making love all over the house in my bedroom, in his room, in the living room on the floor, in the kitchen with me bent over a chair. I did feel like a virgin bride my pussy was sore, my labia red and swollen, my vagina wet stretched and open from Jerry’s constant fucking. My nipples swollen red form his wet sucking. My husband called from the airport when he arrived. Jerry watched as I hung up the phone pulled me hard against him kissing me deeply. He took me one last time, bent over the arm of the couch in the living room. Pounding his thick manhood deep into my wet stretched cunt. Harold arrived home about an hour later. He hugged and kissed me I wondered if he could smell my sex and tell that our son’s huge cock had filled my pussy all weekend. Harold’s hand caressed my bottom and then slid up to cup my breast I winced as his hand squeezed my sore nipple. He whispered in my ear. “I missed you baby.” I was knew if we made love now he would know I had been unfaithful. I so scared.  I was saved by the arrival of my monthly so I had 5 days to recover before I made love to him.

That night we lay in bed together he asked me, “How was the party? Did Bob bother you? Did Jerry take good care of you?”

“The party was fine the nicest in years. Bob didn’t bother me. You were right some little slut young enough to be his granddaughter was hanging all over him.” 

“Did Jerry take good care of you while I was gone?”

“Yes, he took very good care of me. But I had to protect him from a woman who sat at our table with us.” 

Harold laughed. “The mother hen to the end.” “Good night honey.” He kissed me gently and rolled over and went to sleep.

I lay awake for several hours wondering. How will Jerry and I keep our secret? I know we won’t stop. I can’t stop. I need him and I love him dearly. 

It was two days later when Jerry and I were alone he hugged me and started caressing me. I wanted him. I was so aroused even though I was on my period.  I made love to him then my menstrual blood smearing over our lower bodies. It was the first time I have ever come at that time of the month. 

I have to start on birth control pills again, and Jerry will have to use condoms for the next months or so, as my husband has had a vasectomy and as much as I would love to have Jerry’s baby we can’t take the risk. I hope we don’t have an accident in the heat of passion.

Well that’s my story. Looking back I don’t know if I did the right thing. The consequences could be terrible but the pleasure is so great.