4 comments/ 42441 views/ 8 favorites Discovering Her Past By: SSobotkaJr Tell me this, Dear Reader. If you discovered something that has completely turned your view of someone upside-down, but you had to confirm if it was true, would you want to know the truth? In making the revelation known to this person, could you handle the consequences that follow, no matter if they were bad or good? The subject of this story explores all of these questions. It was inspired by a similar tale that I -- the Author -- discovered not too long ago. I was intrigued by the overall thrust of said-story, but found it didn't explore the feelings, the deeper meaning of emotions between the featured characters. So, inspired, I wrote this story. I hope you find it entertaining, as well as stimulating, Dear Reader. Read on! *** *** *** My name's Sam; short for Samuel Garrett. I'm just twenty-two now, but it was a year ago when the events I'm about to tell you about happened. Just so you know, I'm not exactly a pretty-boy or some Harlequin-novel stud, but I'm no slob in appearance or looks. Granted, I'm a bit on the chubby-side, even though I stay active enough and take care of myself, and I'm nowhere near 'ugly' when it comes to my face. Still this isn't about me. This is about my mother. Yasmine married my dad back when I was only eight; he was a divorcee, having parted ways with my biological mother when I was only three. Dad did a pretty good job raising me, even while working two jobs to keep us from becoming homeless or destitute, but he knew that I needed a woman in his life and I needed a mother. He met Yasmine during a trip to Junction City -- a mid-sized town not far from where we lived -- and found out she was planning to join a company just opening up in our hometown. Yasmine was a European woman; tall, yet she had curves that bespoke of a country upbringing. Dad was smitten with her accent, her look and her mind. She got an education in the Czech Republic, then further college schooling in America when she was only eighteen when she moved here. Dad and her kept in touch after their first meeting, and when she was fully settled in our town, he didn't waste any time asking her out for a date. I'll never forget when I first saw her, not long after she and Dad had been going out together for a couple of months. We didn't meet until then, because he wanted to get to know her better up front without any interference. Oh, she knew he had me, but she respected Dad's reasons for delaying her first meeting with me, his son. It was a Saturday evening dinner at our house that provided me and her with our first face-to-face. To say that my first impression of my father's girlfriend was noteworthy is a pretty well-put understatment. Like Dad, I found Yasmine to be warm, open and honest; a woman that put you at ease. She also proved to be Dad's equal when it came to smarts and engaging conversation, which was a plus for both of us (my birth-mother never was much of a talker). Even at that young age, I noticed she had a certain appeal to her looks. Yasmine had skin that was dusky, but not dark like Italian or Latin; sort of a creamy light-tan latte color, that went well with her dark eyes and black hair. She had sweet lips -- the kind Dad later told me were just perfect for kissing -- a classic Romanian nose and dainty ears. Like I mentioned before, she had an accent but it didn't interfere with her English, which she always peppered with affectionate words while we three talked during a warm family-style dinner together. "Samuel," she told me once, "you are very sweet and behaved young man. I think your father and you are most wonderful people, and I thank you for letting me get to know you better." Then she bussed my cheek with a warm kiss. I think after that I became smitten with Yasmine, too. Not as a boy attracted to a beautiful woman, but more as a boy who knew that he knew the woman he'd met was going to become his mother someday. That someday came within the following year, right to the day she and Dad had started dating. He proposed to her while they were out on the town -- right in the middle of a very romantic setting in the swankiest restaraunt downtown. Needless to say, Yasmine accepted. She and Dad married on December 24th of that year, at Yasmine's request. She explained later that Christmas Eve -- being the holiest night of the year -- was the perfect night for two people to give their hearts to each other as gifts. They both looked so happy together. I was just happy for Dad, now that he had someone in his life after my biological-mother's departure, and I was proud to call this beautiful woman my mother. In the months that followed, our family chugged along; Yasmine got to know all of our domestic habits, and we hers. She also stepped very quickly into the role of mother, doing all of the typical Mom-chores, yet she did them all with an energy and focus that was a far departure from either my birth-mom or any of my friend's mothers. The two of us also became closer, to the point I was calling Yasmine 'Mom'; a point that made Dad very happy. Thus, we three became a trio; a modern family that looked forwards to having a wonderful time together in the years ahead. That is what should of happned. However, things turned black in the year of my fifteenth birthday. It was a stupid thing; a punk kid, hopped up on alcohol and drugs tried to rob a convenience store, and Dad had been inside to get some milk for breakfast the following day. Everyone cooperated, but the punk had the misfortune of trying to back out of the store with his swag, just as a police cruiser pulled up in front -- the police looking to take a break and get some coffee, I was told. Panicked, the robber shot at the police, and before it was over, he was dead from three gunshots . . . and my Dad had been unlucky to get hit by a stray shot in the crossfire. The doctors at the ER did all they could, but Dad died not long after they'd pulled him out of the ambulance. Both Yasmine and I were devastated. I think she took it the hardest, because she loved Dad so much; he'd been the only man she'd met in America that treated her kindly, and that's what attracted her to him in the first place. Needless to say, after Dad's death, Yasmine put herself into working and caring for me. I was still a teenager -- with all the problems, peer-pressure and fail that comes with the territory. Yasmine surprised me by how well she took it all, and did her level best to be the kind of Mom I never had. She never talked down to me, and always preferred to talk straight and to the point. "Samuel, my boy, never think you cannot come to me with problems. No matter what, no problem is too large we cannot solve together." Yasmine was more than just a mother to me, as she became my confidant and -- unlikely as it may sound -- my best friend, too. So, from then on it was just me and her; a son and his mother, two hearts against the big, wide world. Yasmine got a better paying job with a bigger business firm that gave us a bit more security. I finished high school with good grades, and did Yasmine proud when I entered a trade school to learn to repair engines and fix mechanical problems. Yasmine insisted I continue to live at home, since that would give me less stress and allow me to focus on my classes and training, as well as give her some security by not being alone again. We lived like this for a few years. Then came the year I turned twenty-one. That's when the real story begins . . . to kn * *** *** Like most young men, I watched pornography. Oh, I like sex. Even back then, it didn't take much to make my dick respond. A pretty girl or even an ad in a newspaper -- the bra and panty ones from stories -- could make me get a hard on. By twenty-one, I was no virgin, though the quantity of my sexual encounters was on the lean-side of things. Quality was more important than just getting off every night. So, to compensate, I watch what videos I could glean from diligent searches on the internet. Everything from soft core stuff like "Emmanuel" movies to more heavy stuff like "Hustler", but the ones that did it for me were movies that were more classy than crass. I really loved videos from Playboy -- the profiles of their signature Playmates; the more scripted 'fantasy' films that weren't too crude but very sensual, very erotic. Over time, I had a pretty good collection saved on my computer and stored on discs I burned from my CD and DVD drives. Yasmine knows about my stash, after she caught me watching some videos one afternoon, but she's cool with it. "Young men have their . . . passions, my boy. They must be slaked, or some poor girl could be receiving a very hard time," she told me with a grin. It wasn't enough though, so I was always on the lookout for new material. So, my prayers were answered when I found a website that was selling the "Pure Porno" series films; an older collection of 'sensual, playful erotica that shows respect for the act and the players in your sexual fantasies'. Well, I picked a couple of their compilation DVDs at random and paid to have them shipped to me. Within a week, they arrived and I whisked them up to my room to enjoy in private. That night, I was hard as stone and enjoying a long stroke session, laying on my bed while watching the movies on my laptop. I managed to go through two scenes on the first disc; very hot, sensual and classic depictions of men and women making love in exotic locations, when the next scene shifted to a more modern-city setting, full of half-shadows and sepia tones. Hoping for more good sex, I reapplied a new layer of lube to my dick and waited for the action to begin. It was five minutes into the action that something began to nag at the back of my mind. The actress in the scene was giving a masterful performance -- first giving the guy she was with a very slow strip-tease, before removing his pants to give him a blow job. I was becoming horny as hell, but something about the actress made a part of my mind send signals . . . signals that meant I should pay closer attention. Slowing my strokes, I shifted to peer closer at the screen of my laptop. When the scene suddenly shifted to a more well-lit part of the room they were in, I got the shock of my life as I got a good look at the face of the actress. It was Yasmine! A much younger version, to be certain, but there was no mistaking her face, her eyes, her nose and that same, sweet smile that appeared; after she finished making the guy in the scene cum like a fire hose. I was stunned. My Mom . . . in a high-class porno? I reset the scene and watched it through to the end, before I pulled out the DVD case to check the slipcover and inner liner. No names were given, save for single ones that were clearly stage names, but the liner labeled the actress in that one scene -- and two more on the same collection -- as Talia. Intrigued, even as I tried to wrap my mind around this discovery, I flipped forwards to the other two scenes; a rather hot lesbian coupling between 'Talia' and a slim redheaded woman and a steamy-as-hell threesome with her, the redhead and a dusky-skinned fellow in a steam room. Like I mentioned, these were high-class productions; with professional lighting, smooth edits and the sex was more of a romantic, respectful sort that just crude fuck flicks. I won't lie. I watched those three scenes over and over again that night, eventually having three orgasms before I put my sore pecker and the laptop away so I could get some sleep. Sleep didn't come easy though, as I tried to process what I'd seen, but I eventually dropped off into a fitful slumber. *** *** *** The following week, I was nervous as hell around Yasmine. I don't think she understood what was bothering me -- she must've thought I was just distracted by something inconsequential, as she was just affectionate in her usual mom-way. On the outside, I tried to play things as cool as I could. Inside though, I was a mess of conflicting emotions. I just knew that the actress in those "Pure Porno" films had to be Yasmine. The young woman had too many similarities to the older one who'd been my provider, protector and mother for the rest of my teenaged life. Still if that was the truth, what did that say about me, since I had one of the hottest masturbation sessions ever, while watching those three scenes? Was I a real perv for tossing off to my mother having sex? Even more to the point, what was I going to do now? Do I tell her I've seen these films, or do I keep mum and just let life go on as usual? I knew though that things weren't going to be 'as usual', after seeing those films. Because I soon caught myself looking at Yasmine in a different light. Yasmine was only twenty-five when she met my Dad. Now at thirty-eight, she was just as beautiful as she was back in the day; just more rounded, with fit muscles and curves in all the right places. She had switched back to wearing her hair long -- having cut it short for Dad's preference -- and it made her look very much like 'Talia'. So much, I couldn't help but grow a boner at the most inopertunistic times when I was around her. I managed to hide it from her, but the sexual tension I was feeling was driving me crazy. It eventually got to the point I was forgoing all of my other porn films to watch just those three with 'Talia'. I was beating off every night twice just to get relief. Eventually, I sat down and had a long, hard think over this crazy situation. I could see that it was going to get to the point that the lines of propriety and common sense were going to start blurring, where my mother and the fantasy girl in the films was concerned. That could lead to me doing something highly inappropriate . . . I couldn't let that happen! I loved Yasmine more as a parent than as some sex object. I couldn't bear to see her hurt because of my raging hormones. So, I told myself there was just one solution; I was going to talk to Yasmine about the films, and find out the truth, if she was really 'Talia'. I wasn't crass about it, to begin with. I just didn't walk up to her with the DVD in hand and ask, "Did you do a porno?". I had to pick my time and place, so that it would lessen the impact and hopefully not drive a wedge between Yasmine and me. My time came a week or so after I made my decision; the place was the kitchen of our home, where Yasmine was in the midst of cooking dinner; beef goulash with all the trimmings. Yasmine was dressed in a pair of dun-colored slacks, a sleeveless blue blouse and her house slippers, under an apron colored like the flag of the Czech Republic. She had her hair tied back, and was moving back and forth from the range top to the cabinet behind her as she cooked. I had entered the kitchen, clad in nothing but my habitual lounge pants, a T-shirt and socks. Leaning against the door frame, I watched her and her 'domestic industry' for several minutes, before I cleared my throat to announce I was present. Yasmine turned towards me, smiling before she twisted around to get some seasonings from the counter next to the range. "Ah, Samuel. Dinner will not be ready for some time," she said. "S'okay, Mom," I replied. Inside, I was nervous as anything. Still, I wasn't going to put this off for another day. "Um, Mom . . . can we talk for a moment?" Yasmine must have heard the trepidation in my voice. "In a moment," she said, reaching out to reset the heat on the burners to a low-setting. Snatching up a cloth, she wiped her hands and turned to work on some ingredients for a salad. "What is on your mind, Samuel?" I'd rehearsed time and time again, but now that the moment was here, all of my preparation seemed to fall to the wayside. So, I just took a page out of Yasmine's book; I spoke plain and to the point. "Mom, you know I watch porn . . . adult films, right?" Yasmine just chuckled. "Of course, I do." "Well, I ordered some new ones a while back," I said, rubbing my palms together to try to aleve the sweat forming on them. "Some pretty good stuff . . . um, from a collection called 'Pure Porno'." I didn't know if she would recall the name -- if she was the girl in the films -- but I swore she paused for a beat as she was chopping some celery before she kept on working. "Ah, I see," she said at length. "Well, the thing I'm trying to say here is . . . well, there was this actress in a couple of the films and . . . she was so hot and, sexy and--." I just cut myself off, shoring up my courage as I plunged ahead, asking, "Mom, was the girl I s-saw, you? Her name was Talia, but she looks so much like you and . . . Yasmine, I-I . . . I'm sorry, but I just have to know!" All throughout my stammering and whatnot, I hoped that Yasmine wouldn't get upset. What she did was stop working on the salad completely, put down the knife she'd been using, before she turned around to stare at me; her gaze level and her expression neutral. "So, you believe the woman in your erotic films . . . is me?" she asked. Swallowing down a walnut-sized knot in my throat, I nodded meekly. "It's a weird coincidence, Mom . . . but, I just had to ask because . . . well--." "I know, my boy . . . you were always so curious when you were younger," she said gently. Sighing, she rubbed her hands across her cheeks, before she shook herself. "I had not thought you would have seen those films, or your father for that matter." "So, Talia is you?" I asked, desperate for the confirmation. Yasmine just nodded once. "You never told Dad about them?" Coming over to stand in front of me, Yasmine said, "It was nothing I was not ashamed of doing, Samuel. Still, I did not tell your father, because he did not ask." Looking off to the side, she added, "That was another part of my life, before I met your father and fell in love with him." "Why? Why did you . . .?" I ducked my head, a bit of embarrassed flush creeping into my cheeks. Now that I knew the truth, I was suddenly gripped by that emotion; considering I now realized I'd jerked off to my mother having sex! "Why, Samuel?" Yasmine crossed her arms. "Because I come to America, and for the first few weeks after I arrive, money was scarce and jobs were not available. I needed to support myself. A man and a woman approached me, told me I was beautiful and asked if I wanted to work making films." She paused, giving me an arched look. "I learn soon enough what sort of films they are." I could only nod. "The films were not meant to be vulgar or such, my boy," Yasmine said, softening her tone a bit when she saw how red my cheeks were. "As you could see, they were meant to show how beautiful relations between two people could be." "Two or . . . or more," I mumbled. Yasmine gave a weak chuckle. "Yes, even so. The people who made them did much to take care of those of us who participated . . . we were never exploited, treated with respect. Granted, these were still sex films, my boy, and it was a job, after a fashion. Still, they paid good money, and I was in need of that to keep from having to do other . . . less-savory things to survive. As well, I was proud to have been a part of something . . . so beautiful." She paused, her eyes looking unfocused, as if she was looking on the memory of that time in her life before she turned back to me. "I did work for those films for a year, then I found a better job that allowed me to stop making them." "But, you never told dad." I said. I wasn't accusing her of duplicity. Just stating it as a fact. "He never suspected?" "Samuel, you know your father did not watch such films,"Yasmine said, her tone less harsh. "I praying he would never find out, so it was a relief to learn he was not into pornography." She added with a bit of blush in her cheeks, "Especially when he had me, who he loved so much." She looked away again for a moment, then returned her gaze to me. "Still, I am surprised they still are seen, after all this time." Discovering Her Past "Well, they're very well-made, and . . . erotic," I said. "Whoever created them knew just how to make a great sex film. It's just the . . . well, the kind I like. It's just . . . just--?" "You never expected to see your mother in such a movie, hm?" Yasmine asked with a slow smile. "How could I?" I looked up at her, using my hands as a frame as I said, "They were sensual, powerful, romantic and . . . and I just never expected . . . wow!" I couldn't hide the awe in my voice. Yasmine bit her bottom lip, regarding me as I stood there with flaming-red cheeks. "So,Samuel . . . you liked to look at my films?" A bit of a smile flickered on her face. "Did you find them stimulating, my boy?" Too shocked for words, I just nodded. Reaching out, she put a fingertip under my chin and tipped my face up to gaze at her. "Samuel . . . did you touch yourself, watching me?" "Oh, Yasmine . . . I'm sorry, but . . . yes. I did. You looked so, so hot!" Yasmine's cheeks grew darker, her eyes shining as she stared at me. "You found me attractive, then?" She nodded sagely. "I was a beauty back then." I don't know what made me say it, but I just blurted out, "Mom, you still are a beauty now!" "Oh, my boy," Yasmine said with a smile. "I am an old woman now." She looked down at herself. "I have too many years, also some unwanted fat on myself, unlike then." Shaking my head, I said, "Yasmine! You're just as sexy now as you were in those films." I motioned towards her body, seeing the disbelief in her face and encouraged to prove to her just how wonderful she was. "You've got curves that would put a bottle of cola to shame; legs that are so sleek . . . and your eyes! God, I could get lost in them, Mom." I reached out and took her hand, holding it with a fond gesture. "Yasmine, you're even more sensual and sexy now than you've ever been, believe me!" Holding my hand, Yasmine listened to my praise in silence. Through it all, she had this funny, half-smile and look that made me wonder if I was laying it on too thick. Eventually, she scratched the tips of her fingers against my palm, before she sighed and said, "My boy, you are a silver-tongued fox . . . a flatterer, much like your father was." Giving me cheek a pat, she turned and nodded towards the kitchen table. "Come, dinner will be ruined if we stand here talking for much longer." I gulped. "But, Mom--?" She half-turned to me, pressing a finger to my lips. "We will talk . . . later. Dinner first, my boy." *** *** *** Dinner was something of a quiet affair, even though I really wanted to talk more with Yasmine about those films. I tried again to engage her, but she gave me a stern-if-loving look that told me to hold my tongue. We ate together in relative company, and even though the original tension I had felt after discovering her past film history was gone, I couldn't help but notice that a new energy had replaced it. Something different than the nervous, embarrassing undercurrent that had been plaguing me for weeks. I guess that was making me too nervous to notice that Yasmine had been giving me odd looks throughout our meal; long lingering looks that she quickly covered up when I lifted my head from my plate. After dinner, dishes and the usual routine of putting the house in order before bed, I retreated to my room and started getting ready in my bathroom; a quick shower -- during which I had to shove any thoughts of jerking off to the side -- brushing my teeth and getting into my typical sleep wear of charcoal-colored boxer-briefs and a 'wife beater' shirt. I was just standing in front of my bed, wrestling with the notion of getting my laptop to settle myself, when I heard a knock at my door. "Samuel?" "It's okay, Mom. Come in," I said. The door opened and Yasmine slipped inside. She was wearing a long, black satin robe -- one of her previous Mother's Day gifts from Dad and me -- tied tight around her frame. She had her feet in open-toed sandals and her long hair was tied in a loose braid that draped over her shoulder. As she moved towards me, I could smell the light fragrance of lemon-grass; one of her favorite bath-scents. This wasn't out of the ordinary; she often came to bid me good-night after she'd had a shower. Still, I was just as nervous as before, when I confronted her in the kitchen. "Samuel, I would tell you good-night," she said, after she stopped just a few feet away from me. "Yet, I fear that after today, your sleep will not come so easily, hm?" She cocked an eyebrow at me, prompting a reply. Drawing in a shaky breath, I nodded. I could never lie to her. "No, Mom . . . I don't think it's going to be that easy to get to sleep. Not after knowing what I . .. know, now." Yasmine made a tck-tck! sound, slowly shaking her head. "That cannot be allowed, my boy. You deserve to rest, but all these thoughts . . . feelings you have, knowing what I once did as a young woman, they will haunt you even into your dreams." She took a step closer, looking up with her dark eyes wide and dancing with an inner light. "I would say you have also begun to wonder . . . if I am still as I was, when I fucked those people in my films, hm?" I swallowed and blushed. I'd never heard her use the word 'fuck' before. "Well, I--?" Again, she touched my lips to still my words. "Hssh, my boy . . . you need not answer. I know your mind." She trailed her fingertips away, leaving a line of warmth across my mouth. "I know you will soon begin to dream about me -- your mother, but as she must appeared as she was in the past; naked and wanton, giving her passions freely and without restraint." She smiled softly as my cheeks flushed and my breathing slowly began to speed up. "Samuel . . . I cannot have your dreams so invaded with such thoughts. You will not rest properly if that is allowed!" she said with mock severity. I started to stammer. "I . . . I-I-I'll get rid of those films, Mom," I offered. "No." "No?" Yasmine shook her head again, taking another step closer. "You will not need to do such a thing, my boy. What I propose is something . . . different." Her smile deepened at the expression of curiosity on my face. "If you will allow me to show you--?" Without waiting for me to reply, she reached out and took me by the arm, directing me to take a seat on my bed. When I complied, she stepped back and reached for the ties on the front of her robe. "Let me show you, Samuel . . . show you what you do not have to imagine." With that she loosened the ties and shrugged her shoulders, making the robe fall off and slither towards the floor of my room. As the black satin slid to the floor, I goggled at the sight before me. Yasmine was wearing a semi-transparent chemise; the night dress coming just down past the tops of her thighs, leaving an inch or two of bare skin between that and the edges of the thigh-high stockings that covered her awesome, thick legs. Underneath, she had a pair of French-cut panties and a demi-bra, all the same smoke-gray color that complimented her skin and hair color. Turning around slowly, Yasmine gave me a good and proper view of her body. Her breasts were big and full, hanging with just a bit of sag that made them look wonderful, capped with darker nipples that were standing out a quarter inch above her quarter-sized areole. Her tummy was trim, with a touch of pooch, that melded down into wide hips that were curvy and smooth. From behind, her bottom was like an upside-down valentine's heart; the lines flowing down into her firm thighs and legs, ending at her small feet. I was in awe, lust and love all at once. My mother was a pure stone fox, and I literally couldn't stop drooling at the mouth over her. A fact Yasmine quickly found out, when she looked over her shoulder at me. "Ah, my boy approves of my appearance, yes?" "Mo-o-om! You're gorgeous!" I moaned. With a chuckle, Yasmine swiveled back around to face me once again. "Mm, I am happy to see my Samuel has excellent manners to go with his silver-tongue," she said, her voice low and rich. "Now . . . you stay there, and watch. I will show you what I did to prove that I could do those films." Swallowing, I put both hands between my thighs and squeezed them together in anticipation, watching as Yasmine began to sway, closing her eyes as she seemed to tune into a rhythm and a melody that only she could hear. Sighing, she raised her arms, letting them twine and twist above her head as she rocked her hips from side to side. Dancing in front of me, Yasmine put on an erotic display which had my blood racing. "Oh, mercy!" I sighed, unable to keep from looking anywhere else. "Mom . . . you are so . . . so, beautiful." Opening her eyes half-way, Yasmine smiled, but said nothing more as she continued to move sensually, turning this way and that on the carpet. Eventually, she lowered her hands to the hem of her chemise and slowly lifted, dragging the gossamer fabric up her body. Tugging it clear of her head, she let it drop before returning her hands to her body; running her fingers and palms over her skin in long, teasing caresses. Soft sighs and moans soon slipped from her lips, while she moved for her pleasure and for mine. It could've lasted minutes, hours, eons, but eventually Yasmine moved her hands to the front of her bra, finding and undoing the clasp that held her breasts in check. With a flick, it parted and fell to the sides, revealing her proud tits to my hungry eyes. As she slid the garment off her arms to the floor, she gave these enticing wiggles, making the two spheres dance. I couldn't believe how they looked. Two perfect mounds, slightly sagging but still firm enough to belay her age or station. Each nipple appeared darker and more engorged; protruding out like little grapes. Tentatively, I started to reach for them, but was stopped by a wagging of a finger from my mother. "Ah, ah, not to be touching me, my boy . . . not yet," she cooed. With a tease in her voice, she said further, "Behave, for your reward will be most welcome, before I am done, Samuel." "Ah, o-okay . . . I understand," I said. With a pout of her lips, Yasmine blew me a kiss before she cupped her tits and fondled them; sighing as she stimulated herself, making me wish I had been permitted to do it to her. She didn't linger long on her chest, as soon she turned to present her heart of a backside to me, bending at the waist to make it and her legs stand out taut and inviting. Wagging her ass at me, she peered from around the side, grinning at the lust-filled look I was giving her. Without warning, she ran her hands up the backs of her legs, over her plump cheeks before snagging her panties with her fingers. Gasping, I watched as she wriggled them down over her bottom, down her legs to her knees. From behind, I could see the pouting, convex curve of her pussy between her legs; the lips shining in the cleft with her arousal. She slowly straightened up, moving her legs back and forth to make her panties drop to the floor, where she then stepped free of them and turned to face me again. At once, her hands moved down to her crotch; the flesh there dusted with a smattering of black, soft fleece, just above the protruding curve of her pussy. She caressed it several times, watching me as I literally had my tongue on the floor. "Holy . . . oh, Yasmine!" "Mmm, you are so pleased with my body, my boy," she purred. Now naked, save for the stockings on her legs, Yasmine moved towards me and placed one knee on the mattress between my legs. I scooted back to give her room, only to be stopped when her hands drifted up onto my shoulders; her fingers hooking underneath the shoulders of my shirt. "Off with this, my boy." Tugging on the ribbed fabric, she made me raise my arms as she stripped the shirt off me. She then slipped back, trailing her fingers down my bare chest and big belly. I stammered as I said, "M-Mom, I'm s-sorry . . . ." "For what, Samuel?" Yasmine glanced at my face. I turned my head away. "For b-being so . . . fat." I never thought that my own body would be something to be embarrassed about, but right then I wished I looked more like the actors Yasmine worked with in those porn films; all muscular or buff. With a soft laugh, Yasmine cupped my chin and made me look at her. "Oh, you silly young man! America is too fixed on thinness . . . in my home country, dear heart, your body would be considered robust and very desirable." When I blinked in disbelief, she smiled fondly. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, my boy. Nothing at all." With that, she moved to her knees between my legs, snagging the waistband of my boxer-briefs to tug them down. "Lift, come-come . . . you must not be so shy now." Complying, I lifted my body and allowed her to pull my underwear down and off my legs. Now as naked as she was, I blushed again at the thought of what she would think of my male equipment. I'm certainly not as long as most modern-day porn stars would be; being a respectable seven inches, with a moderate girth. Yasmine smiled all the more, when she saw my cock at two-thirds mast, surrounded by a nest of dark-blond curls. "Mm, oh yes, dear heart . . . you have nothing to be ashamed of here!" She reached over and took hold of my manhood, moving her hand softly and slowly up its length. Unable to resist, I sighed as blood pumped into my dick, making it stiffen to its fullest potential. Yasmine's hand curled around it, stroking with a measured pace that made the passion inside me grow. "Oh, God, Mom!" I tried to stay upright, bracing my hands as I stared down between my legs, into my mother's smiling face. In no time, my pre cum had oozed out from my crimson cock head, and was smeared all over my rigid flesh and Yasmine's hands. "Yes, my dear, sweet son . . . does this not feel good; having your mother touch you, hold you and pleasure you this way?" Yasmine's voice was low and throaty; her accent sending more tingles of bliss down my spine. "Yes, Mom . . . oh, yes this feels so, very, good!" My voice rose into a high choke, as my eyes widened when Yasmine moved in close to my cock; her face just an inch away, before she crossed the last span to slip the tip of my fleshy column into her mouth. The contact was like a lightning bolt made of pure pleasure. "Oh! Mmm, oh my, God, Mom!" My hips lifted, trying to prolong the contact, but Yasmine withdrew her mouth, making me moan in frustration. "Mmm, this I would love to do to you, my boy," she said with much heat behind every word. "Take you, inside my mouth . . . worship your cock, make you squirm under my lips, my tongue and my touch." She blew a soft breath, making he shiver as it caressed my wet flesh. "But, I will not do that, not now." I sighed gustily, looking at her with an expression of disappointment. "Why not?" With a grin that was lustful and loving, Yasmine replied, "Because . . . I wish only make you wet enough, so that I may take you inside me." She glanced downwards, along her body, before saying, "Inside my . . . pussy. Would you like that, Samuel?" I couldn't believe my ears! Mom didn't want to suck me off, but fuck me instead!? I groaned and dropped back onto my bed, unable to keep the smile from my face that was answer enough for her. "Mm, I thought so." With that, Yasmine dropped her mouth back down onto my cock; slurping and sucking enough to coat it with her saliva. It was still a pleasurable experience in any case. She knew how to use her lips, tongue and even the gentle threat of her teeth to stimulate me to iron-hard readiness. When she pulled off me with a loud pop, my dick was standing straight up, quivering with every beat of my heart. "Yesss," she said, fisting my erection with a gentle touch. "So much potential . . . so hard and ready to be put to a good use!" With that said, she shifted up, kicking off her sandals as she climbed up onto the bed, moving over my body with her stocking-clad legs on either side of me. She nipped at tickled my tummy on her way along my torso, pausing to suckle on one my nipples to make me moan extra loud, before she settled herself against me. "Oh, Mom . . . oh Yasmine!" I reached up to rest my hands on her hips, staring up at this goddess of a woman who had given me so much love and pleasure this night. With a swift kiss to my lips, Yasmine reached between us, grazing my belly as she clutched my stone cock. Rocking on her knees a bit, she rocked until she got the head of my swollen flesh lined up against her pouting vulva; dragging it through her fleshy labia, which were as wet as my dick was. With smoke drifting from her eyes, she said, "Are you ready, my boy?" I couldn't form the words. I nodded. Taking her cue, Yasmine tipped her hips to allow my cock to align with her most intimate access. With a slight thrust down, she had the cap of my dick head inside her entrance; the warmth and soft sensation making me groan as I felt myself enter her body. She paused, rotating her hips a bit to insure I was seated properly, then with a sigh of satisfaction she lowered her hips and drew me into her pussy with one, long slow stroke. I couldn't stop myself from nearly crying from the sheer sensation of it all. Yasmine felt like a soft, clasping sheath around my cock; the texture of velvet, silk or fabrics I didn't have a name for yet could not compare to this feeling! "Oh, Mom!" With a final murmur of complete bliss as she settled onto my hips, Yasmine cooed, "Oh, Samuel . . . my boy. My sweet, sweet boy! You fill me so perfectly inside." It was true; my dick felt like it had been made to fit inside her pussy. She wasn't super-tight, but the walls of her honey pit squeezed and caressed my hot flesh with ripples that drove me out of my mind. I could feel her intimate cream dripping out onto my balls, as we both waited to get used to the sensations of our coupling. Yasmine eventually looked down at me with a fire in her dark eyes. "My boy, are you ready? I have not made love . . . to any one in years." She bit her lip. "I fear this will not take long to finish." I wasn't sure if I would last either. The feelings, added to the fact I was about to start fucking my mother, lent to the inevitable outcome of this sensual exercise. "Oh, yes . . . oh, take me, Yasmine. Mom . . . I want you so much!" Purring, Yasmine slowly started to rock upon my cock. "Yes, Samuel . . .my son, I want you too." She dropped her hands onto my chest, slowly caressing while a single finger plucked at a nipple. "Fuck me, my boy. Do it, now!" With that, Yasmine and I thrusted together; her pussy so slick against my prick, it made the most erotic squelching noise as we came together. Our skin slapped against each other's thighs and her bottom, like an applause as we continued this sexual dance. Inside, the fire was stoked to incredible heights. Passion, lust and bliss were all I felt as my dick drove up with every advance and withdrawal. A small part of my mind was crying -- incest, Sam! You can't fuck your mother! The thought was squashed by the burning realization that I was having sex with the one woman I loved more than life itself. Yasmine, for her part, was rocking, twisting and groaning as she fucked my dick into her pussy. Her hands curled over my chest, leaving red marks on my skin. Her long hair had somehow become undone from the loose braid, and was now hanging over her shoulders like a silky mantle of black. "Oh, yes! Samuel, my Samuel!" Panting, Yasmine lowered her body until our chests touched; her lips seeking mine in a torrid kiss. I wrapped my arms around her, bucking up with my lower body as I held her to me. Breaking the kiss, I gasped for air. "Mom! Shit, I . . . god, you're driving me crazy! I love, your pussy . . . love you, so much!" The sensations were building inside my groin to a fever pitch. I knew this climax wasn't going to be like my usual solo experiences. "God, Yasmine, I . . . I'm so, so, close!" Discovering Her Past With a hiss, Yasmine ground her pelvis down onto me, as her inner walls clamped down with rippling waves over my cock. "Oh, my boy . . .yes, I feel it. Come, come with me! Fill me . . . take me, I, love, you, too!" Her last word trailed off into a cry of passion, a moment before I felt her body stiffen over me and her pussy lock down with such force I couldn't continue to thrust inside her. With a shout of my own, I shoved myself deep into her -- at least as far as her snug hole would allow -- and felt the spark of orgasm begin to race up my spine. Unchecked, my cock head swelled and spurted hot gouts of my sperm; thick sluices of cream that never seemed to stop as my body was wracked with the ultimate bliss. Holding her tight, I rode the waves of our climax, relishing the sensations, even as they slowed and ebbed and finally ceased as one last squirt emptied into her pussy. With a grunt and sigh, I fell back and let my hold loosen; the fog of sated-lust and love filling my head. "Ooh, dear, God . . . Mom," I moaned. Yasmine shivered on top of me, sinking down to press her sweat-rimed body to mine, her lush breasts crushed between us as she snaked her arms up around and under my neck. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, she wiggled her hips, making my still-hard cock spark new pleasure in my groin. "Mm, you were . . . glorious, my sweet Samuel," she cooed. Nuzzling my nose with the tip of her own, she sighed. "Yes, glorious . . . I did not think it was possible to find such pleasure, after so long after your father." I blinked, looking up at her. "You never . . . well, after we lost dad? Never?" Pulling one arm around to run her fingers through my hair, Yasmine dipped her eyes and nodded with a sad smile on her lips. "With your father, I thought I would never need another . . . and, when he died, my boy, I never expected to want another." She looked back and her smile cranked back up a notch. "Then again, I never expected to be with my son, too." That made me crinkle my head, frowning. "Why did you do this, Mom? I mean, make love with me, like this?" Yasmine shook her head, before brushing my lips with a kiss. "We shall talk later. For now, I feel we should shower." With a lift to her hips, she hissed softly as my now semi-hard dick slipped out of her pussy. "Mmm, you and I are rather . . . sticky, it seems." *** *** *** Yasmine coaxed me out of bed, turning a deaf ear to my repeated question of why she fucked me, while leading me out of my bedroom and over to the main bathroom; hardly concerned for our shared nudity as she plucked some large cotton towels from the hall closet along the way. Twisting the taps, she got the big tile and glass enclosure filled with steam before she opened the sliding door and motioned for me to go in first, following close behind. Once under the hot cascade of water, she nudged me forwards, taking me by the shoulders to turn me around; soaking me from head to toe before she got wet as well. "Now," she said warmly, reaching for the liquid soap and a fluffy washcloth, "let me clean you, my boy." She tapped my arms, asking me silently to lift them. Ever obedient, I raised them and put my hands against the tile wall and the glass. With my back to the shower head, Yasmine moved the soap-filled cloth over my chest and shoulders in slow, gentle motions. Sighing with renewed pleasure. I tipped my head back and yet my mother have her way with me. Yasmine washed me with tender attention; never missing an inch of skin as she worked the soap up to a full lather. More than a mother's touch, this was like a lover pampering her beloved. A small part of me felt a bit envious -- yet happy -- in that my father had this for all the years she and him were married. What man wouldn't feel like a king, with a woman treating him like this? Eventually she dropped the cloth and pushed me back into the spray, making me turn so that all of the suds were rinsed away. Rubbing my shoulders, she made a pleased sound as she felt the tension melt under her touch. "You are troubled, Samuel?" I was too lucid to deny it, so I nodded. "I can imagine why." She moved closer and said, "You ask, why I could do what I did with you?" She let her hands trail along my sides, before moving around to my chest. "How could we make love with each other?" "Yeah," I said, feeling her naked skin against my back. With a kiss to my shoulder, Yasmine said, "Because, of the discovery you made, seeing the films that I was in." She quickly lifted a hand to my face, pressing one fingertip to my lips. "Shh, do not speak . . . let me tell you." When she could tell I would comply, she dropped her hand to continue caressing my body. "When you told me of finding those films, Samuel, at first . . . I was mortally upset. A part of my life, I believed long gone . . . now my son had seen them. Seen me, making love to men and women. It was . . . a shock to be certain. "Yet," she continued, her voice soft against my ear. "When I saw how it affected you; how you told me you found my presence . . . my performance, exciting to you? I was mostly embarrassed, but also excited, too." She smiled when I tipped my head to look at her. "Yes, my sweet boy. At that moment, I felt as I did then; aroused, and from the look in your eyes, it was clear you were also in such a way, yet you still felt love for me." "Mom," I said, "You know I would love you, no matter what." That earned me a tight hug. "I know, Samuel, but I also knew I had to think about this revelation between us. That is why I told you we would talk again later. Not because I did not wish to talk then . . . you see, I had to decide what best to do about myself." "You?" I twisted to face her halfway. "What do you mean? I thought you'd want me to stop watching the--." "No, Samuel. I know your mind." She nudged me to turn me completely around, while stepping up into me as she embraced me once again. "You admitted you found me beautiful. That you found my films, um . . . sexy." She smiled at the red rushing back to my cheeks. "I knew you would not be able to stop thinking of me in that manner. So, what was I to do? Have you get rid of the films?" She shook her head. "No. That would not settle your mind or your new-found lust for me. So, what should I do to satisfy your body's desire?" I swallowed, trying to control the sudden burst of heat inside, accompanying the racing pulse in my chest. "You . . . decided to fuck me?" With a soft laugh, Yasmine said, "No, my boy. I decided to take a cue from my past." She pressed herself against me, slowly rubbing her naked flesh against mine as she purred. "I once did film, where the plot was a simple thing; seduction of a young man, who wanted more than anything to have sex with me." She leaned her head down and kissed me lovingly; the heat of her lips and tongue making my own mouth open to admit her inside. With a groan, I dropped my arms and enfolder her body in a tight clinch. At that point, all thoughts of why my mother made love to me flew out of my head. All I cared about was that I had her, there, inside a running shower . . . and from all signs apparent, she wanted to make love with me again! We kissed for what seemed like ages, before Yasmine retreated with a last lick and nibble to my bottom lip. "Mmm, I know you want me, my sweet, sweet boy . . . but, there is something I want, first." "Oh?" I asked. "Mm, yes . . . something I think you will like, too." She pecked my lips again, before slithering down my body to kneel on the shower floor. Trailing her hands along my sides, she brought them to my waist, leaving a teasing sensation before she brought them to my groin. With a hiss, my hips twitched as I felt my cock surrounded by her soft fingers. The sensation was electric, under the water sluicing down my body. "Yesss," Yasmine said, her voice full of encouragement as my cock filled with fresh arousal. "Get hard for me . . . grow and become stiff, my boy." She rubbed my dick lovingly, making me groan. "I want you hard as can be, for you gave me pleasure in my pussy . . . so now I will give you pleasure, with my mouth!" With that, she dipped her face towards my turgid flesh, opening her lips to wrap them around my cock with a soft slurp. Mindful of my reaction, she kept me in check with her fist clutched around my shaft, while slowly lowering herself down until she covered half of it in warm, silky moisture. "Oh, dear, Lord!" I panted, feeling the sizzling sensations pump into my brain, the pleasure increased tenfold in moments as Yasmine sucked me. Unable to contain myself, I dropped one arm to place a coaxing hand on her head; my fingers threading through her wet hair. Humming with loving glee, Yasmine steadily munched on my male-meat. Clearly loving what she was doing to me, she added to the experience by cupping my balls to juggle them in her palm. The length of her tongue, the plump pillows of her lips and even the light threat of the edges of her teeth all worked to make the fires spiral outwards from my genitals. Fires that were about to consume me whole, even as I wished for this exquisite bliss to never end. At one point, she removed my cock from her sucking mouth with a loud pop; looking up at my face to whisper, "Yes, my Samuel . . . such pleasure! Such joy! You love my mouth, hm?" "Oh, Yasmine! Yes!" I crooned as I palmed her wet head, urging her to return my dick to her attentions. "Please, don't stop . . . ah, Mom!" With a chuckle, Yasmine said, "I shall not leave you wanting, my boy . . . for I want you to spend yourself inside my mouth." She kissed the tip of my dick. "You would like that, yes? Would you wish to give me your sweet seed? Let me drink it all down?" I could feel my balls quake with each word. Yasmine's thick accented voice, accompanied by the image of her drinking my cum was driving me to the edge of my resistance. "Ah, ooh, Geez-us . . . Mom, I . . . I-I can't--!" With a grunt, I rocked my hips. "Please! want to cum!" With a last, loving smooch to my hard cock, Yasmine said, "And so you shall, my darling Samuel . . . give me what I want. What I crave!" She then sucked me up with a loud slurp, before bobbing her head with steady strokes as she trailed her talented tongue along the bottom of my shaft. In a minute, the sensations were too much for me to bear. With a shout, I cupped my hand behind her head to hold her in place as my cock swelled between her lips. A heartbeat after, my cum burst into her waiting mouth. The thick spray coated her inner cheeks, tongue and teeth with my essence, making her moan with relish. Her lips sealed tight around my dick, as she worked her cheeks to draw out all of my cum. God! Mom really loved the feel of my climaxing in her mouth! I thought, riding the sensations that were sending me to the stars and beyond. Eventually, my orgasm dwindled and died, leaving me standing on rubbery legs, bracing with one arm against the wall of the shower. Gasping for oxygen, I shivered amid the aftershocks, while Yasmine sucked gently to get out every last drop from my shrinking, sated flesh. With a twist and a proud hum, she released me and leaned back onto her heels, a smile spread across her face. With her body shielded from the spray of the shower by my own, she tipped her head up, opening her mouth to show me the puddle of white goo on her tongue. With a groan, I shuddered, but did not close my eyes as I looked at her cum-filled mouth. A teasing glint filled her eyes, just as she closed her mouth and made a showing of swallowing my cum; her throat moving visibly as the knot moved it down towards her waiting belly. With a last sigh, she smiled and briefly parted her lips to show not a drop remained behind. "Oh, hell! Mom, that . . . that was so hot!" I said. "MMmm, it was hot, my boy," Yasmine said, before adding with a chuckle, "and it was very, very delicious!" *** *** *** So, now you must wonder what happened next? Well, after we both finished with the shower -- with me washing Yasmine with as much loving care as she had given me -- we both got out, got dry then went to bed. Our own beds. For you see, Yasmine and I had crossed a line of sorts . . . but there were still some things that she insisted that we maintain in our newly-evolved relationship. Granted, we had made love and loved it, but in essence we were still mother and son. She felt by keeping certain routines and decorum -- both in and outside our home -- that we wouldn't lose sight of that fact, even while we would continue to explore a new level of intimacy between us. This included a more open display of affections between us; warm embraces, loving kisses and even gropes and fondles as we passed each other inside the privacy of our home. There wasn't a moment of the day that I could not expect to find Yasmine slipping up behind me to hug my body to her, or her slipping into my lap as I sat watching television or a movie on our DVD player. By the same token, she would often get a loving grope of her breasts or bottom when I made my way past her in the kitchen as she cooked meals, or find herself suddenly kissed with passion when the moment struck us. Yes, even though we slept in separate beds for the most part, I am happy to say we didn't leave that one night's passion as a once-off, never to be repeated. In the weeks that followed, Yasmine and I made love several times. Most times it was a giving and tender coupling, while other times it was fast and heated fucking. Yet each time it was the kind of love-play that only two people that truly gave of themselves to one another. She always praised me for my growing skill, and encouraged me to drop the negative view about my body. I myself could never get enough of her hot curves and sensual ways, always worshiping her as my own sex-goddess in every possible way I could think of. I don't know where this will ultimately lead for Yasmine and me. She may still be 'Mom', but she is so much more since she became my lover. The feelings I have for her might be only rivaled by hers for me. Who knows? We may just continue together like we are; a mother and son, reveling in each other sensual sexuality . . . or one day we may cross that final, incestuous line and become more. Still, someday either of us may find another, and return to just being parent and child once again. Whatever may be, may be . . . but, until such a change comes, I will always love and cherish the time and love we share together. Oh, and just to let you know . . . Yasmine's films? She told me later that she had made over thirty such pieces for the "Pure Porno" series. At her urging, I sought out all that I could find, and ordered them to add to my collection. At current count, we've only managed to find nineteen of them, and still the search goes on. In the mean time, Yasmine and I have great fun watching her body of work; even to the point that a scene will inspire us to 're-enact' the plot together, either in her bed or mine. But, who knows? Perhaps someday I'll tell you what might have happened concerning some of the other scenes -- like my personal favorite: the one with the male, the redhead and Yasmine! The End (perhaps?)