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Velvet Ch. 01

By: Nobuo



Almost as if she heard him thinking, Velvet slipped through his office door. She was half woman and half fox, and he dared not ever question his luck. 

He met her by chance, she spoke very little, and she only ever appeared when he was alone. Every question had entered his mind. Where did she come from? How did she exist? Did she even exist? He had never shown signs of hallucinations before and there was never any messy evidence of his orgasms after she would visit him. So he decided to accept it as a reality and enjoy it. 

He still felt uncomfortable during the first moments after she would show up. He would be wary and suspicious. He would feel guilty about his wife and family. He had never cheated before Velvet. But her purring voice and perfect touch would put him completely at ease; as if she were no danger and he were committing no moral crime. If she had cruel intentions, she had never revealed a single one.

She strode in, as confident and sultry as ever. Her strange mix of long, red, curly human hair on top of a fox head with big human eyes made sense to him now. It was no longer strange that such a creature existed. Just strange that she was so beautiful. She naturally stood and walked upright and had legs shaped like a human's legs, but far more toned – though not muscular – and covered in short orange and white fur.

Oh her fur.

He couldn't properly describe it even when touching it. Silky and soft, her fur would play with his fingers as he would run his fingers through it. On her stomach, his flesh would sink in as if it were lying in a field of grass. On her face, it would be tough and prickly if he moved his hands against the direction of the fur. Every part of her body housed fur that had its own distinct personality. However, the fur on her breasts was his favourite and the hardest to describe. 

Her heavy, full breasts sat proudly and impossibly high on her chest. She rarely wore clothing, but he couldn't help but compare her to a human woman and think of her bust in human bra sizes. He suspected she would fit snugly into an E cup. That illusive fur on her heavenly pair was almost like human skin, but so distinctly not. Her huge tits felt soft and natural and acted like any pair he had handled, but it almost felt like the fur on her chest would caress him back. It was very short fur like the fur on her face, but it acted completely differently. Her breasts somehow never poked or resisted like her face did, no matter what angle or how hard his fingers or cock worked on them.

But the most wonderful thing about Velvet's breasts wasn't their size or feel. It wasn't that they perfectly suited her impossibly slim yet curvy figure. It was that he never felt guilty for worshiping them. Even if he spent an entire one of their sessions focused entirely on her unbelievable tits, she would only react with satisfaction, pleasure, and gratitude. In fact, that was her attitude no matter the tone or direction of their sexplay. It was the primary reason why he would continue to fear she didn't actually exist.

She would consistently understand his exact desires and they would seem to mirror hers. If he wanted 3 hours of teasing and foreplay before a romantic missionary climax, it would be so. If he wanted to do nothing but lick her perpetually sweet and wet pussy, it would be so. If he wanted to fuck her from behind, spank her, and engage in dirty talk, it would be so. Tonight he wanted a blowjob.

He was working late in his large office. He was absently stroking his cock with one hand as the hour and the privacy of his office allowed him to do so without worry. He clicked through proposals with his free hand and had a sudden vision of Velvet's long silky tongue sliding down his dick as it disappeared into her mouth.

And almost as if she heard him thinking, Velvet slipped through his office door. She had been in the office for no longer than 4 seconds before he finally asked what he had held back every time before.

"How do you know exactly what I want?"

Everything about Velvet overflowed with sexiness and the surreal. Summed up by her appearance, she made the bizarre feel completely normal. Even her name. He would have laughed in the face of anybody who introduced his or herself as Velvet, but somehow it was exactly what he expected as she whispered it into his ear before she slid away that first fateful night.

"Instinct," she replied.

She breathed in as if to say something else, but suddenly and elegantly she was on her hands and knees. She crawled under his desk to where he had already lowered his pants and underwear. She looked up at him and completed her thought in that unplaceable accent.

"It's also exactly what I want."

She then turned her full attention to his rock hard cock. She moaned and he saw her tail sway.

How could he forget her tail? Her glorious long tail. The tail that he swore she knew how to control as if it were one of her fingers.

But his focus was quickly shifted as Velvet began to worship his dick. Sometimes he needed a build-up, but of course Velvet somehow seemed to know that he had been stiff for a while and just needed her to quickly service him.

Once again he was struck by how she was able to show so many sides and make them all work. Just last week, she was calling him names and tying him up, and now here she was in complete servitude to his dick. Neither seemed outside her personality. Her desires mirrored his.

He opened his mouth and began to say things that he would normally be far too frightened to say to his wife.

"Oh fuck, Velvet. You're such a slut. Look at you sucking on my dick."

She groaned deeply as if his words were fingers on her clit. She never looked up. She never took her attention away from his throbbing cock. He loved it. It was as if her whole world was his dick and the more she had it, the more she craved it.

"Do you like my hard dick, you dirty slut? How does it taste?"

She opened her snout wide and firmly slid her long, soft tongue along the underside of his 6 inch cock until it left the tip. She replied with what he could only describe as genuine lust.

"Your dick tastes so good, master. Thank you so much, you're way too good to your dirty whore."

She showed her fangs as she spoke and he marveled at how he never felt them as she gobbled his dick back down.

As Velvet continued her perfect, passionate blowjob from her knees under his desk, his mind relaxed and wandered just a little. He discovered he loved being serviced eagerly by this beautiful and impossible creature as he just enjoyed it and relaxed. As if it were his right. He thought about how his own desires surprised him. He didn't even think he would enjoy the type of dirty talk he just partook in, but he loved it. He also loved being degraded by her. He also loved slow and traditional sex. He also loved just cuddling. 

He wondered how all those things and more could mix in his mind, but he didn't think too much longer as Velvet began furiously bobbing up and down on his cock while loudly groaning. He looked down and finally let out a moan of his own. Velvet took this as a cue to speak again.

"Please master, I don't deserve it, but please come in my mouth. I want it so bad."

He would never, ever believe those words coming out of any woman's mouth. Even if she seemed sincere, he would suspect she genuinely wanted to pleasure him, but not actually crave tasting and swallowing sperm. It was different with Velvet.

He watched her re-attach herself to his dick with adoration, fulfilling with actions the words she had just spoken. The desire to call her names had left him, and his mind started to fade away as he tensed up.

Velvet moaned loudly as if to reaffirm her wish of desperately wanting his come in her mouth. She cupped his tight balls and stroked him quickly while her mouth and tongue worked with the precision and passion of a concert pianist.

He couldn't hold it any longer. He felt his orgasm building, and adored the feeling of Velvet expecting his jizz. Craving it. She moaned desperately and the vibration finally summoned his load.

Time slowed down. He shot three long bursts of come into Velvet's mouth, and she expertly continued her blowjob while letting it all down her throat. He couldn't control his body or voice as Velvet drained his balls. He tried to take it all in. His involuntary convulsions as his jizz was greedily welcomed down Velvet's throat. Her look of pure bliss as she tasted and swallowed his load. He adored the freedom of coming in her mouth. She gladly swallowed it all with her lips and tongue firmly around his cock. The warmth of her mouth and her dedication to his orgasm made him feel invincible.

He laid back in his chair and couldn't speak from pure satisfaction. His balls were empty and Velvet was happily filled with their contents.

They spent nearly 10 minutes in silence as she - still on her knees - carefully and lovingly cleaned his cock with her tongue. She made guttural sounds of pleasure from time to time; sounding more like an animal than she had the entire evening. When she was finally satisfied that no more post-orgasm come was going to make its way out, she tucked his dick back into his clothing, then did up his pants and belt.

She kissed his pants on the crotch and whispered, "thank you" and left.

Velvet Ch. 02



Thanks again for the positive feedback. I was originally going to have this as a 2 part story. In writing what I thought would be Part 2, the dream scenes took on a life of their own. Thus I ended up lengthening the story and my original intention. Enjoy.

WARNING: If you are not 18 or older, please leave this page immediately.

Incest—a word that has extreme negative connotations. The image that most often comes about when the word is mentioned is that of a father forcing himself on his daughter. Any forcible sex act, especially done by a parent to a child, should result in the parent being punished in legal and non-legal ways.

This is a fantasy of consensual incest between adults. It is intended for adults who are interested in reading about consensual sex between relatives. If this offends you, do not continue any further.

*

How did my mother and I end up in bed in this expensive Manhattan hotel, having not only an extremely hot and torrid first sexual experience, but also the beginning of an emotional coupling? It could be traced back to my childhood and early adulthood. There was never anything sexual between my mother and me. We were your regular mother and son. She was always there for me, especially during bad times. She was also my biggest cheerleader, and sometimes my only friend. We had a bond, which I would eventually find, would be the strongest and best relationship I ever had.

The first situation which could be considered an accelerant to our incestuous union was the divorce of my parents and the aftermath. Mom found on the collar of one of Dad's dress shirts lipstick which wasn't hers. She threw him out and filed divorce papers. I spent many a night at Mom's holding her while she cried and cried. Often she fell asleep while crying in my arms. I would carry her to her bedroom (if she wasn't already sobbing in bed) and release her to the comfort of her bed. I headed for the couch in the living room to sleep. It was during one of these crying and hugging sessions where I first "noticed" Mom as a woman. I thought to myself as I moved the couch pillows, "Dad's nuts. How could he let go someone who was as attractive as Mom?" I wanted to kick my father's ass but I kept my composure, and eventually (and unexpectedly) succeed where he failed.

The emotional "hurricane" of divorce would strike our family again almost five years later. I would be its next victim. I married and similar to Mom eventually discovered my mate knew fidelity as just a word in the dictionary. During the court proceedings Mom moved in with me, concerned my social drinking would change to alcoholic proportions. We were still your typical mother and son for almost the year we lived together. The one atypical moment was the night I returned home after 9 PM after working extra hours on a new project. After getting into the apartment and locking the door I hollered that I was home. No response from Mom. I could hear the TV on in her bedroom. Just then the bathroom door next to her room opened and there she appeared. And wow! What an appearance. She stood surprised in the hallway, looking kind of like the deer caught in a car's headlights, wearing a beige terrycloth towel. It was wrapped around her; a knot to keep the towel closed, rested just at the start of her cleavage. The "hem" of the towel reached mid thigh. 

"Paul! I didn't hear you."

I didn't hear her. I was taking in this beautiful sight of almost nakedness. My eyes were roaming all over my mother's toweled form. Her black hair looked just-washed, the raven layers on her shoulders looking damp. The smell of her favorite herbal shampoo whiffed my nostrils. Her large breasts appeared like they wanted to break free of their terry cloth confinement. It was at that moment that I realized Mom was "all legs." From the half-covered thighs to the lavender-painted toenails, Mom's legs were like snakes: long and smooth. The fact that they were slightly parted made me wish I was the piece of rug she was standing on so I could look up between them. She smiled, and that broke my trance and the silence between us.

"Sorry to embarrass you," she offered. More like "arouse you." Typically you would think she'd go running into her bedroom after being seen by her son in an almost-naked state. On the contrary, she hadn't moved since she saw me. She continued standing there.

"No. No problem, Mom. You didn't embarrass me." I then playfully put my right hand over my eyes pretending to be embarrassed at what I saw.

"Oh you," she quipped and finally motioned, turning to toward her room. I quickly parted the fingers of the hand in front of my eyes—kind of like peeking through Venetian blinds—and watched as my mother's ass swayed left to right and back under the bath cloth. She entered her bedroom, closing the door. It was all I could do from jerking off that night in the shower in my room.

Almost a year later and I was officially a divorcee. I was also on the verge of becoming the general manager of the software company I was working for. I had thrown myself into my work, not with the intention of advancement. It was a diversion and a healing balm for the emotionalism of my divorce. The impending promotion was just a by-product of the need to work my balls off. 

Speaking of my balls, also within that year span I got back on the female trail. I didn't want to get wrapped up in a relationship. I was not looking for the aftermath of a rebound scenario either. I just wanted to do my own version of Sex In The City. I hooked up with a buxom blonde account executive who for similar reasons of mate infidelity—her sister was balling her fiancé—also wanted to keep it simply physical. We definitely kept it simply physical. When ever we got together, we were like to alley cats humping in the midnight hour. Mom, seeing my emotional and social improvements, was happy for me and left my apartment, returning to her place.

Nothing else remotely sexual happened with Mom but a variation of that towel scene popped into my mind a couple of times while I was with Blondie. One evening we were in her office after hours, she sitting on top of her desk with her suit skirt pushed up to her waist and me sitting in front of her with my head between her bare spread legs. As my tongue dragged along her inner left thigh ascending toward her blonde and wet opening, the image of Mom standing in her terrycloth wrap came to mind. My wish of being that piece of rug came true in my mind. Similar to one of those flicks with outrageous special effects, the area of rug between Mom's bare feet took the shape of a tongue...my tongue. It grew quickly, and shot up her lower leg, not touching her flesh until it got to the middle of the back her left thigh. As my tongue traveled along the blonde's thigh, so did it along my mother's in my mind. I could smell both their sexual scents and felt their rising heat. In reality the tip of my tongue touched the labia of Blondie; in my dream my tongue was on the forbidden sex lips of my mother. 

My girlfriend, with eyes closed, tossed her head back and began to sigh...as did Mom.

"Oh Paul, you do that nice," my buxom blonde exclaimed. 

"Oh Paul, you do that nice," my mother cooed.

My tongue, in reality and dream, slipped into their cunts. "Oh what a turn-on," Blondie finally emitted after a long series of panting, "you're eating me out right here in my office on my desk! God, that's so fucking hot!"

Mom, in a slightly subdued tone, hissed, "Oh you nasty boy. You're eating out your own mother." She got into a squat position like a baseball catcher allowing us both to enjoy my unhindered ascension into her wet, forbidden depths. 

Both women rode my face. The blonde girl moving her pelvis in a front and back motion, her pushed-aside white panties soaked through. Mom was bouncing up and down on my tongue and—which the rug had just now turned into—my mouth and face. She also ground her crotch into my face, her black public hair occasionally tickling my nose. In both reality and in dream, my tongue lurched more forward into a pink honey-pot that was sexually simmering...and soon boiled over into my mouth. Blondie and mom were raining their sexual secretions onto me as my oral phallus continued fucking them both.

I swirled my face into the blond and brunette pussies. My tongue withdrew from inside their sweltering crevices and began a light fanning of their clitorises. "Yes! Yes! Yesssssssssss!" they screamed as they both reached their orgasmic peak, and flooded my tongue, mouth, and face with a final wave of their sexual showers. The smell. The taste. There is nothing like it—a woman's ejaculation. As the woman in the office and the woman in my dream gradually calmed down, I relished in the dirty notion that I now knew what a glazed donut felt like.

Unfortunately nights like this soon ended as Blondie was transferred out of state. Unfortunately nights like this also became scarce. Still feeling a little "bruised" from the divorce and having fucked my brains out with the account executive pretty steadily, I didn't think a little time without sex would be a big deal. This changed when it became a six month draught, stretching into a seventh. I jerked off a few times to memories of Blondie but even that became an issue as my dreams started changing the star of the dream—to Mom. One wet dream began with Blondie and me in your classic missionary position on her bed. 

The blonde account executive was yelling, "Deeper! Deeper! Fuck meeeeee deeeeeper!" 

The scene soon became a variation of that fateful night when I saw my mother in the towel; it continued at the point where we had been staring at each other. In the dream I am so locked onto viewing my mother wearing only a terrycloth towel, I did not notice my cock's reaction to her. But she did, and it is then that I realized my body's response to her visual stimulation. Her piercing black eyes had descended their focus to the tent in my dress slacks.

"Oh my, Paul," she purred coyly, "how you've...grown."

With a sensual grin, she brought her right hand up to the knot in the towel and her left hand to the corresponding part of the terrycloth, opened the towel, held it open for two seconds as if flashing me, and opened her hands. The towel cascaded down her body, past her legs and ended up crumpled around her feet. I felt like that guy in the old Memorex commercial who got blown away by the sound—I was blown away by the sight of my mother's naked glory. In my dream, my mother's body was your typical older-but-sexy form. Her breasts were large, with only a very slight slag; the dark pink nipples erect with want. Her waist was almost wash-board material, revealing she was definitely a devotee of a gym. Her pussy—the portal in which I came into this world—had its black hair in a well-trimmed V-shape. The coral-colored lips were clearly visible...and clearly moist. We said nothing to each other. The only sound in the apartment is our heart beats which were beating like Benny Goodman's Swing Swing Swing. 

Then it happened in a flash. We rushed toward each other, wrapping our arms around each other in a frenzy and our lips meeting like two long lost lovers. Our lips parted, allowing our tongues to meet. Boy did they meet: they rapidly twirled around each other as our heads also moved in a circular motion. They also were sucked on by the other's mouth; I think it was Mom who first took my tongue in her mouth and sucked on it like a candy icicle on an August day. My hands raced up and down her back but soon wanted their prize: Mom's ass. Man, was that a tight ass—it was the ass of 20 year old co-ed. I squeezed and massaged those magnificent buns.

She, meanwhile, was busy with my belt buckle which typically in a frenzied sexual scenario like this gave her a slight problem in opening. This just added to the fury of the incestuous moment. After the buckle was opened, she easily brought my zipper down, despite the peak that was my erection. She left the pants button alone, instead "going for the gold" and releasing my 7 ½ inches of manhood. Once the air hit my penis, it was like a movie director yelled action. I turned Mom so her back was against the hallway wall, literally. As I turned her, I turned myself so that we continued facing each other. I lurched my pelvis forward and in one motion sent my erection into my mother's cunt. For a brief few seconds I felt the wet, warm enveloping of her sugar walls around my cock. Also for a few seconds the reality of the situation hit me: I was starting to fuck—wildly—my mother. But those few seconds of thought and any guilty feelings that may have occurred were soon swept away by the sexual rush of the moment. Now my mind was delirious that I was fucking once again, this time in a such a taboo manner which only electrified me—us—even more. I was now in a steady, hungry rhythm of pounding my mother against the wall. She eagerly met each of my strokes. It was now a triple meet: my penis with her pussy, her back with the hallway wall, and our lips and tongues (once again).

The connection between our mouths was an on and off one. The times we weren't lip-locked, we were grunting and groaning. Mom moved her left leg and wrapped it around my waist. My cock now had even better access to her hot hole. It turned me on whenever a woman wrapped her leg or legs around me. And this being my sexy mother was even more of a turn on. She had her hands wrapped interlocked around my neck. I had the palms of both of my hands flat against the wall, one on each side of her head. We looked deep into each other's eyes.

"Uh, uh, uh."

"Mm. Mm. Yeah, oh yeah."

My penis jackhammered into her, moving back and forth. My prick, slick with her nectar, slipped quickly in and out—but not all the way out—of my mother's wet welcoming vagina. Her pelvic movement matched the hurried rush of my. This high-energized illicit intercourse continued for a few minutes more. The only sound between us was the continued grunts and groans of pleasure. Mom's grunts and groans were increasing and I knew her orgasm was about to hit. 

"Oh, yeah, yeah! YEAH!" she exclaimed. Her leg wrapped around me tightened.

I bent my knees a little and gave a northerly thrust and I came as well. I moaned as white wave, after white wave shot from me deep into my mother's vagina. 

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh!"

We stared at each other as my orgasm seemed like it was trying to catch up with hers. The staring between us had been animalistic as we fucked like beasts in the wild. As our orgasms were winding down, the look between us gradually became softer and more emotional. This new look between us resulted in a hard, passionate kiss. I moved and my depleted dick popped out of Mom's sopping cunt. Her grip around my neck was released, her hands dropping to my back as mine went from the wall to her back. We embraced and continued our passionate kiss.



Velvet Ch. 02



***This is part two of a story involving a half-woman, half-fox. I'm just warning you up front.

I do my best to make it work as a standalone story, but as always it's best to read the parts in order. I set up a few other storylines in this chapter, so I'm very curious to hear what you all think. Enjoy!***



"Wait, what? Where are you guys going?" He stood confused in the doorway. He had just arrived home from work and had run right into his wife and daughter with packed bags about to leave the house. His daughter rolled her eyes and his wife threw up her hands in exasperation before replying.

"I told you this morning! Jules and I are finally cashing in that gift certificate you gave us. For that spa weekend. How do you not remember this? I was so grateful when you gave it to me." Rachel was usually laid back, so he was a little shaken by her tone.

"Sorry. I had a long day at work, and I was excited to spend the evening with you, it slipped my mind."

"Gross," said his daughter.

"Oh c'mon Jules, you're 19. Your parents are still in love. Grow up." Rachel snapped before she looked back to her husband and softened her expression. "I'm sorry, I'm really looking forward to this weekend and you've been extra forgetful lately. I just got frustrated. Don't get too lonely without us!" He smiled at her understanding nature and kissed her goodbye before turning to his daughter.

"Have fun, Jules." He said while opening his arms. Jules softened a little as well and went in for the hug.

"Bye, Daddy," she said softly before darting out to catch up with her mother who was already out the door.

He locked the door after them, then watched them leave from his living room window and continued to stand there for a few minutes after they had driven out of sight.

He really did forget about the trip and felt instantly lonely without his family. He and Rachel had been married for 20 years, and although they had gotten married around Jules' age and had her almost instantly, the couple remained very happy. It made him feel even more guilty about recent events.

So recent that one such event contributed to his late arrival home.

He really did have to work late, but a visit from Velvet kept him even later.

The supernatural nature of Velvet's existence was becoming flimsy as an excuse from guilt lately. He loved Rachel and was still very much attracted to her. He wondered why he ever allowed his sessions with Velvet to occur. He had never felt compelled to cheat before. He and Rachel maintained a steady and creative sex life, and they both stayed fit for each other. He had even had explicit chances to cheat with very attractive women before and was able to resist the temptation.

But he had never encountered anybody who was half fox before he met Velvet. He had never met someone whose desires seemed to mirror his so exactly. He had never met somebody – including his wife – who he felt completely comfortable exploring all of his fantasies with.

Despite their creative and open sex life, he was always too scared to bring up every single fantasy with Rachel, or use the exact dirty talk he felt compelled to use. With Velvet, it seemed so easy. So natural. She didn't judge if he wanted her to be his sex slave, or if he wanted to be hers. She didn't judge if sometimes he just wanted to blow a huge load in her mouth without reciprocating; like had just happened in his office not an hour earlier.

In fact, she seemed to crave exactly the same things.

He physically shook his head in an effort to stop thinking about Velvet. Rachel and he had fought more than ever since Velvet showed up. Granted, that still wasn't often, but it was enough to concern him. As hot as the sessions with Velvet were, they weren't worth losing his marriage and family over.

He and Rachel's relationship had always been the envy of his friends, and anybody he knew with children would ask how he was able to raise such a daughter as Jules.

He was definitely lucky to have her as well. Sure, she was a teenager and so was occasionally difficult and sarcastic, but compared to the horror stories he heard from his friends, Jules was a breeze. She was generally respectful to him and Rachel, she did her share taking care of the house, and she had become a great friend to the couple, not just a daughter. 

She was beautiful too, which was no surprise, considering how much she looked like a younger version of her mother. Although Rachel kept her hair short now, Jules was a constant visual reminder to him of when his wife's hair was long and blonde. It ran all the way to Jules' ass, and she was very proud of it.

He wondered how other fathers dealt with their attractive daughters. He loved Jules as his daughter and friend, but as a man it was difficult for him to ignore her assets. She had always been tall and graceful, but her tight, thin body had filled out the past few years, giving her a firm, shapely ass and perky, C cup tits. He didn't fantasize about his daughter, but he did notice her body. He chalked it up to male instinct and didn't feel guilty about it anymore.

Plus, at 39, Rachel looked extremely good for her age and kept him happy. She was shorter than her daughter, with wider hips and larger breasts. They had natural sag to them now, but not nearly as much as one would expect with DD size cups at her age. Her ass wasn't the tight, firm thing it used to be, but all her exercise made a difference, and he still loved watching her leave.

He felt relieved for taking his mind off of Velvet and then cursed for thinking of her again. Still, she had never visited him at home, so he took comfort in that.

He then realized he had spent so much time being lonely, pitying himself, and thinking about his hot family that he had forgotten the upsides to being home alone. He instantly stripped down to his boxers. He would have gotten naked, but that didn't feel so good on his leather couch, and he planned to watch some TV.

He switched on ESPN and lazily watched the end of some basketball game. The game wasn't that exciting, so his mind briefly drifted. For reasons he couldn't grasp, he thought of Velvet's pussy. He remembered the times he had gone down on her and how amazing she tasted. How the fur on her legs made him feel like he was floating and gave him the strength to pleasure her for much longer than he normally would be able to.

When he finally noticed his raging erection, he snapped out of his daydreams and shot up on the couch. He looked around frantically and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he was still alone. Velvet had a habit of showing up whenever he was alone and fantasized about her. 

But he was at home, and Velvet had never seen him twice in one day, so he relaxed and decided to head upstairs to fall asleep early. He now had to fill a weekend alone, so maybe he'd go golfing the next morning. Or just enjoy his backyard pool. He smiled as he felt proud of his financial success. Between his firm and Rachel's executive position at a major bank, they were able to afford a very large house for their family and hadn't had financial worries for over a decade.

As a further example, he strode into the master bedroom. He took in the large space and proceeded to fall onto his king-sized bed with a happy moan. He wiggled up like a child so that his head reached the pillows and he laid on his back still on top of the covers.

Then his body froze up. Maybe it was his paranoia, but he swore he heard something. He sat up slowly and wondered if it was just an animal outside. He didn't have to guess for long, however, as Velvet slid through the entrance to the bedroom and leaned against the wall.

A number of things were new to him with this situation. First, although he had seen her wear a corset a few times, Velvet was usually completely naked except for her fur, and this time she was not. She wore a tight blue t-shirt stretched over her huge bust. It was strange to see this ethereal mix of a fox and a woman dressed in such a casual item of clothing, but he had to admit loving the way her tits struggled against the fabric.

Secondly, Velvet never stopped upon entry. Every time she appeared – no matter the content of the sexplay – she would confidently approach him at first. To see her leaned casually against his bedroom wall with her arms crossed confused him.

Finally, as he thought about earlier, Velvet had never stepped foot in his house. Every time they fooled around, he never gave much thought to her entrances. She would appear in public, or at his office, or maybe enter his car at an empty stoplight. He never had to heavily consider her method of entry before. But his house had been locked at all entrances. 

For the first time in Velvet's company, he felt very scared. So many obvious thoughts rushed into his head. Why would he just accept that she would know where he is? He never told her the location of his office, he never told her where he lived. He found it sexy before but felt incredibly stupid now. Was she after his money? Blackmailing him? They had never spoken of Rachel or Jules before, but of course Velvet knew. If she knew where he lived, she had to know everything about him. While he panicked, something else new happened. Velvet spoke first.

"You feel guilty."

His racing mind came to a screeching halt. Her words confused him. They weren't the words of a blackmailer, and they didn't sound hurt either. He couldn't find anything to say.

"Tell me. You feel guilty."

His first reaction was trying to – once again – place her accent. If he guessed Russian, he corrected himself to French. Then Irish, then Australian. It was so impossible to place. Velvet cleared her throat and he came back to reality and answered without thinking.

"Yes. Very."

"Why? You love your wife. You love your family. You are good to each other."

She tilted her head and seemed genuinely curious. The two had never spoken this much without it being in the middle of sex, and he had to admit to feeling intrigued. He worried that it wouldn't last long and he spoke up as to not lose it.

"That's exactly why I feel guilty! I'm cheating on Rachel with you."

"What is cheating?"

He was struck. She didn't appear to be mocking him. He decided to answer sincerely.

"Well, er, it's breaking the rules without the other players knowing."

"We're breaking the rules?" He couldn't help but feel very turned on when she said that, and he felt ashamed for it. Velvet continued, "you are all very strange."

"Us all?" He realized he hadn't considered Velvet with other men and felt strangely jealous. "How many men are you doing this with?"

Velvet looked confused again. "You're the only human I fuck, of course. We tend to only connect with one human at a time."

He reeled at all the information crammed into those short words and tried to shake off her casual use of the word "fuck" in such a sincere conversation.

"Then you understand why Rachel might not like the fact that she's not the only person I... er... fuck?"

"I don't see how they're related," Velvet started calmly, "You fulfill needs for me, I fulfill needs for you. If we needed more to fulfill the needs, then we would look for more, would we not?"

He was starting to feel like this was all going over his head. He wasn't one for intense philosophical discussion, so he tried to go back to basics. "So you knew about Rachel?"

"Of course."

"And you knew Rachel didn't know about you?"

"Yes."

"And that was normal to you?"

"No. I don't understand why you do not tell her, but that's not my business."

He suddenly felt very tired. With some exasperation, he continued with another question.

"So why are you here?"

"I noticed you felt guilty. And we both wanted you to eat my pussy."

Once again he was struck by Velvet's fearless honesty and blunt way of speaking.

"And the t-shirt?"

The heavenly form shrugged coolly and her large fox ears flicked as she answered, "I thought you'd like my tits in this top."

He melted to her coy reply and felt his resistance melting away. He couldn't ignore the fact that he was in his own bedroom, however, and simultaneously felt a pang of guilt.

"Interesting," Velvet cooed while studying his face. "You're getting horny for me, but you're also feeling very guilty. I want you to lick my pussy really badly, but I don't want you to regret it."

He marveled at her ability to read his mood. An idea suddenly flashed in his mind. Before he could stop himself, he instantly relayed it to Velvet.

"I want you to make me feel guilty," he burst. "Tell me I'm an unfaithful awful man. Sit on my face and make me feel like a horrible husband and a terrible father." He couldn't help himself. The idea had him so hot that his actual guilt finally started to fade. 

He was able to look at the curvy, furry bombshell properly for the first time since she entered the room. He looked at her tiny waist as it curved perfectly out into her shapely firm ass. He looked into her big human eyes while her mouth curled into a smile on her fox snout. Her long curly red hair fell both behind her back and over the front of her shoulders, almost resting on her very generous bust.

She finally started her strut toward him. She pushed her massive tits together over her t-shirt and he stared at how they sucked the fabric in at the middle and formed around her breasts, giving the illusion of cleavage. 

"Do you like my huge tits, you asshole?" She started. He subconsciously moved his hand down to his instantly rock hard dick and stroked it above his boxers.

"Yes." Is all he could make out before he reached him and slapped his hand away from his own crotch.

"You can't touch yourself, and you can't touch me unless I say so, okay?"

"Okay."

"No, like you mean it you dirtbag. If you want to cheat on your wife, you had better listen to me, do you understand?"

Man she picks up quickly, he thought. "I understand!" He now shouted.

"Good," she snarled more like a fox than a human. She then climbed forcefully onto the bed and straddled him. "Lay down!" She snapped. He did. "Sit on your hands, you asshole." He did. She then leaned forward and brought the heavily strained fabric around the front of her bust inches away from his face. "I bet you want to grope my tits, you prick."

"I do," He earnestly answered. She pressed them down into his face for a brief moment before releasing him and speaking again.

"You pervert, you want your dirty hands on my big fucking tits so bad you're willing to be unfaithful. Am I right?"

She was so confused before that he had to wonder if her question was half earnest. As if making sure she was teasing him properly. He gave confirmation.

"You're exactly right. I'll cheat on my perfect wife and risk having my beautiful daughter hate me just for the chance to play with your huge boobs."

Velvet growled loudly and plowed her perfect chest into his face again.

"You douchebag! You dirty old man!" She scolded, "Rip my shirt off with your teeth like the pathetic slave to my tits that you are."

He didn't even try to respond. He had been staring at her full chest somehow staying contained against that poor t-shirt and it made his ignored cock strain for any sort of reward. He quickly lunged his head forward and sunk his teeth into the area stretched over the valley between her massive mounds. The shirt easily and gratefully gave to his teeth, and he gnawed and gnashed until Velvet was pleased with his work. She pulled the rest off herself and he was once again memorized by the sight.

As Velvet sat up proudly straddling him, he watched as her large full boobs settled on her chest. Firmly sitting so high, yet reacting subtly to every motion. The perfect picture of firm and soft. Adjectives that don't make sense together except on the female form. Her words cut into his admiration.

"You have a daughter, you irresponsible fuck. I hope your throbbing dick sees no relief." She yelled at him while sliding her crotch up his body. He could feel the trail of wetness she left along his skin and his mouth began to water. She continued, "How badly do you want my pussy?"

"So fucking badly."

"So badly that you'll cheat on your loving wife?"

"That badly, yes."

"So badly that you'll eat out my pussy in the same bed you fuck your wife in?"

She sounded a little tentative again, so he let out an extra emphatic, "Yes!"

"You want my dripping wet pussy so bad that you'll be a bad role model for your daughter? You'll let her grow up to be a slut like her daddy?"

Now Velvet was getting the spirit of it. "Fuck yes! Yes! I don't care as long as I get to eat your pussy."

"You're an asshole," she said as she lowered herself onto his face. He felt that familiar warm fur cover his cheeks while his tongue was treated to her swollen clit, her entire pussy soaked with her own juices.

"Eat my pussy, you dirty old horny man!" He wasted no time as she screamed her instructions. He dug his hands into her round ass and pulled her even harder onto his face. His nose had just enough room for air as his tongue circled her clit.

He licked up and down, and in circles. He applied more pressure and then took it away. He licked her intensely and then teased her as his tongue took a break darting into her pussy.

While he happily and obsessively worked her wetness, Velvet arched her back and moaned uncontrollably. Whenever she could manage, she would toss more insults his way.

"Is it worth it, you douchebag? Is my little pussy worth your marriage?"

If he could mumble confirmation, he would. He was lost in her pussy, the taste filling his mouth, time speeding up and slowly down. His world was Velvet's pussy.

He had no idea how long had passed, but he started to feel her tense up and shake slightly. Her signs were familiar to him now and he re-established his grip on her butt. He applied more pressure to her clit and firmly and consistently drove his tongue in circles. Not too quickly, not too slowly. He moaned loudly and drank all of her juice that he could; not able to get enough. He didn't want it to end, but as Velvet let loose a loud scream of pleasure, he knew it had to. He eagerly held his tongue in place and let her juices cover his face. The sweet smell filled his nose and he lapped up everything he could.

Velvet convulsed and moaned and writhed on top of him until she finally and quickly launched herself off of him and lay on her side beside him. She kissed him on the cheek and curled up in a circle; one of her more animal moments.

He lay there exhausted and satisfied for a few minutes before remembered his tired, hard dick. He barely gave it a few strokes before launching come all over his own chest. He could hear Velvet give guttural sounds of pleasure as he orgasmed. The moment his cock had nothing more to give, he fell fast asleep.



Velvet Ch. 03



The conclusion of a mother-son love fantasy, submitted on Mother's Day 2005. :)

WARNING: If you are not 18 or older, please leave this page immediately.Incest—a word that has extreme negative connotations. The image that most often comes about when the word is mentioned is that of a father forcing himself on his daughter. Any forcible sex act, especially done by a parent to a child, should result in the parent being punished in legal and non-legal ways.This is a fantasy of consensual incest between adults. It is intended for adults who are interested in reading about consensual sex between relatives. If this offends you, do not continue any further.

*

The dreams of making love to my ex girlfriend turning into my mother soon were pushed aside by pure exhaustion. I was working on the average 11 hours a day at my job; I wanted to be general manager. I would return home late, shower and crash. I couldn't dream about my ex blonde lover, my mother, or anyone else; I was just too tired. But it paid off: the owner of the company soon made me general manager. It was a Friday afternoon when my promotion was announced; it would officially begin the following Monday. I was ecstatic. I wanted to celebrate, and there was only one woman I wanted to celebrate with: my mother, Joan.

"You got the promotion?!" she squealed when I called her on my cell at lunch time. "Oh, Paul, I am so proud of you!"

"Thanks, Mom. Let's celebrate tonight. Dinner and dancing?"

"How could I refuse? And with New York's newest, best, and most handsome general manager? Why of course."

"Aw, thanks again," I humbly replied.

"What thanks?" Mom asked. "I could never say no to you, sweetheart."

I froze for a second when she said that. My mind took a dip into the gutter and I briefly recalled my erotic dreams about my mother. I quickly rebounded: "I'll pick you up at 8. I'll make reservations at Café Café, that new place near Lincoln Center."

"Sounds wonderful. See you tonight. Congratulations, again, honey." She blew me a kiss and hung up. 

It was a couple of minutes shy of 8 PM when I pulled my deep purple Mercedes up to Mom's apartment. I turned off the ignition figuring I would have to wait a bit. Maybe three minutes passed when the building door opened and out bounded my mother. I was in the middle of turning my head catching the passing bus' movie ad when my head snapped in the direction of the apartment building. My face must have been like Jim Carrey's in The Mask when he saw Cameron Diaz—eyes popping out, like big like saucers, and my jaw dropping. Mom was hot and gorgeous all rolled into one! She had on a smile which was dazzling. Her raven colored hair was dolled up like the English actresses from that famous night-time soap opera in the late 70s. Mom always bore a slight resemblance to the actress but now could pass for her twin. 

She wore a tight black silk dress; it was tight like the skin on a grape. It accented her luscious swaying hips as she strutted—not walked—toward my car. Her strut and the low wide cut of the dress offered me a panoramic view of her cleavage and made her large breasts bounce. Man! did they bounce, like two cats trying to free themselves of a confinement. It appeared her nipples were in the initial stage of getting hard. It also appeared that she was not wearing a bra. While my eyes were getting visually overloaded, my ears caught the sound of her feet clicking on the sidewalk. She wore shiny black stilettos, thus completing the picture of this walking wet dream approaching my car. 

As her hand reached for the car's outside door handle, my manners belatedly kicked in taking me out of my stupor and I motioned for the inside handle. She had already opened the door and motioned into the seat. As she sat, the mid-thigh slit of her dress parted and presented me with a pair of bare and sexy legs. And like several months ago when she was slow in responding to me seeing her in just a towel, she took her time in getting in the car, closing the door, and fixing her seated position. I was treated to seeing way up my mother's dress, her well-toned thighs briefly but lewdly parted. The top of the dress slit prevented me from actually seeing between my mother's legs. It was just as well. If I had seen her panties, I probably would have had a heart attack after all this visual stimulation. She leaned forward, offering me an open-close view of her copious cleavage. Her breasts jiggled again. Her brown eyes sparkled and her smile, just a few inches away from my face, was even more dazzling up close. 

"Hi," she greeted, and then kissed me lightly on the lips. I smelled her favorite perfume, Dolce & Gabbana. 

"Hi, Mom. Wow, you look great!"

She beamed, with a typical mother's pride, "I am so proud of you!"

"Thank you, Mom." I popped the car into Drive and pulled away from the street.

We found a parking lot a block and a half away from the restaurant. Café Café was actually a restaurant and jazz club with a medium-sized dance floor. After handing the attendant my keys, Mom and I walked up the ramp to the street. We got to the corner and waited for the light to turn green so we could cross. She slipped her hand into my mine, gave a loving squeeze, and interlocked her fingers with me. I looked at her and Mom flashed those pearly whites. I returned the smile. As we crossed Columbus Ave, I felt like Leonardo DiCaprio when he exclaimed in Titanic, "I'm the king of the world!"

When we entered Café Café I mused to myself as the maitre de did a quick double-take at the beautiful woman by my side. "Good evening. Mr. and Mrs. Covington," I announced. I had made the reservation this partially as a joke. Mom shot a glance at me with a grin. "Right this way," he directed. We followed him, my mother leaning into my ear. "Honey, don't forget to take out the trash when we get home," she joked. I chuckled.

The place was already packed and walking toward our table required serious navigation between the numerous tables and people. The maitre de, leading us, stopped to let a waiter with a large platter of food pass by. Mom had stopped a couple of feet behind him. I just had wedged between two tables and had started walking a little faster when I bumped into Mom. My crotch, unhindered by my open navy suit jacket, hit her ass.

"Oops, sorry, M--." I did not finish the word. I was, though, genuinely sorry I bunked into her. 

Without turning around she replied, "No problem, babe." My suit pants were now pressed against Mom's ass, the tightness of her skirt stretching across her buttocks and providing me with such a velvety sensation. My crotch was against the part of her ass crack below the waist. I could feel the firmness of the beautiful ass literally before me. Mom either didn't notice our "connection" or didn't care. My penis, which was starting to receive blood, if fully erect and without clothes, could easily glide up and down the curved crevice of my mother's bottom. The contact between crotch and crevice was only for three seconds—the waiter had passed by and the maitre de continued our procession toward the empty table—but it felt joyously longer.

We took our seats at a table for two, sitting opposite each other. The table was a comfortable distance from the band, which was in the middle of a Miles Davis number. The atmosphere was festive, and I knew the food was good from having taken several perspective clients here for dinner. It was where I wanted to be, with the woman I wanted to be with. We ordered, me going for filet mignon and Mom selecting lamb chops. After the waiter left, we looked deeply into each other's eyes. Nothing was said, yet so much was "said." We loved each other like any other mother and son, but we were drifting past that. We were and had been communicating an emotion reserved usually for non-relatives. So many scenes between us flashed in my mind: her caring for me as a child, often like a grizzly mom protecting her cub; her applauding childhood successes like me wining a baseball game; my holding her countless times during her divorce while she wailed a river; her on numerous occasions telling me she decided I had enough to drink and taking away the gin bottle during my own divorce proceedings; the infamous towel episode; the glee in her voice when I told her about the job promotion; and they way she looked just a few minutes ago coming out of her apartment. I laid my right hand, palm up, on the table. She separated her hands which were locked together under her chin and laid her left hand into my mine. This time I was the one squeezing our hands.

After the appetizers, we feasted on the main course. We also "went to town" on the red wine I opted for. Mom had one more glass of California Merlot than me. 

"A toast ... to my favorite general manager," Mom offered smilingly, with glass raised.

I clinked my glass to hers. "Thank you, so much."

Our stomachs were full, as were our hearts. A little while after we finished our dinner, the lights were lowered and the band started a slow Billie Holiday song. Mom loved Billie Holiday. I stood up, very slightly tipping to the side thanks to the Merlot, and with hand extended offered, "May I have this dance, my lady?" Mom was taken back at the gesture. Once again our eyes were locked together, though hers seemed to get immediately misty. Also her lips quivered, as if she was on the verge of crying. Her lips turned into a smile and she answered with a hoarse "yes." I escorted her by hand to the opposite corner which was less crowded. I took her in my arms, with her head resting against my upper chest and her eyes soon closed. I relished as her soft breathing was above my heart. We looked more like a prom king and queen dancing to a romantic tune. I quickly and devilishly thought to myself of all the coronaries the other people in the restaurant would have if they knew who we really were. We were mother and son, dancing slowly to a seductive song...and to hell with what others would think!

The swaying of our bodies, the copious amounts of wine, the lack of sex and intimacy for the past several months, how hot Mom looked and how wonderfully warm she felt in my arms was all having an effect on me in two places. One was my heart; I felt an emotional connection with a woman I never had before. The other place where all this was effecting me was my crotch. It was moving sensually against my mother's crotch as I led with my right hand and my left was firmly against her narrow waist. My cock was getting hard...fast. The more I slowly moved to the music against the skirt portion of Mom's dress, the more blood rushed to the area. My head, which had been in a dreaming state like hers, snapped up like being awakened by an alarm clock: I now had a full erection slow dancing with my mother. Just like our other "close encounter" that evening, Mom seemed to not care. I cannot say she did not notice now. She had to, both as my cock was hardening against her and now that it was at its full 7 ½ inches. Yet despite my sudden head motion—both the top head and the bottom one—Joan, my mother, did not break stride in her dancing. 

I was mortified. I lowered my lips to her right ear. "Mom, I'm sorry." She didn't say or do anything. She just kept swaying to the song. 

I tried again to apologize. "Mom, I—" She raised her head from my chest her, released her left hand from mine, forming it into a Number One and placed the finger against my lips, shutting off my apology. She looked at me with half-open eyes.

"I am very flattered my own son is sexually aroused by the touch of my body," she whispered. Then Mom positioned her mouth next to my left ear and softly confessed, "I am very wet." The tip of her tongue trailed along my ear lobe, and she pushed her crotch against my raging hard-on.

It was as if my mind was hooked up to an electric chair and the warden pulled the lever: I get a massive boner dancing with my good-looking mother and instead of being shocked or outraged, she is just as turned on! Forget the other people having coronaries, I was about to have one. Her admission opened a mental flood gate of the illicit nature of what we were doing, and what we were probably going to do. Mother and son...sexually excited by each other slow dancing in a Manhattan restaurant...it was so taboo! Speaking of taboo, I immediately recalled the X-rated movie, Taboo, about consensual mother-son incest. At the moment I realized something: I was never more sexually aroused in my life as I was now!

It seemed now Mom was at last free to physically express herself with me. She led me further into the corner of the dance floor. There was less light here and less people. She slowly but confidently pushed her crotch against my erection. She did again...and again, in a wave-after-wave cycle of increasing lust. I met her stroke for stroke, my cock having just been permission to continue its movement against Mom's skirt-covered cunt. It was a balancing act for us: wanting to enjoy our just-begun incestuous dry-humping and yet not be obvious to the other dancers. Mom turned us so we were visually on an angle to the other folks on the floor, and then she planted her lips against me. Our lips were locked, initially in an emotional kiss that caring lovers share. Then lips opened and our tongues began to wrestle with each other. But the tongue dueling did not last long, as she broke the kiss and pushed herself even more into me. She crushed her bountiful breasts, nipples erect, against my chest. 

"Don't stop, baby," she panted in my ear. "Don't stop." 

Her gyrations now were more urgent. Over and over again she threw her crotch against mine. And I responded in kind. The hand that I had on her waist I slipped under her dress and cupped Mom's right buttock. It was tight, smooth, and virtually bear—my mother was wearing a thong!

I grunted, "Uh," as my hand squeezed that cheek several times. I re-positioned the hand so the finger tips slipped into her crack and grazed the panty material. Mom was wet...soaking wet. Right after my fingers touched her thong, she slammed herself into me, this time with such authority.

"Yes! Yes!" she hissed into my ear. Joan, my mother, was riding the crest of a long-over due orgasm. She tilted her head against my shoulder. Her eyes were shut, and her lips were plastered together, stifling her desired scream of ecstasy. As her body below the waist continued shaking and her juices seeped through the thong onto the front of her dress, Mom's hard nipples were grazing me all over my shirt and suit jacket.

I was extremely attempted to join her in taking the "dry" out of our dry-humping. I would not be embarrassed by coming in my pants. They were dark and would not reveal my emission. I ejaculated in my pants one time before during a lap dance at a strip club. Actually I'd now be more concerned with walking off the dance floor with my slacks still tented.

Mom's breathing, which had enjoyably serenaded my ear and been heavy sounding like a Lamaze class, soon tapered off. Our grinding also had dissipated. Now we were just holding each other. We stood supporting each other, my hands around her waist and her hands around my neck. 

"It's dripping down my leg," she informed me. "Can we get out of here, please?" she asked between lingering heavy breathes. 

"Absolutely," I answered. My dick had started going down but a chubby could still be seen within the front of my pants. I guess this was the lesser of two "evils"—mom's cum-coated legs taking First Place. I was so relieved the next song from the band was another slow tune which meant the lights would remain low so Mom and I could exit the dance floor as inconspicuously as possible.

My head felt like a whirlwind. Everything between the dance floor and when we were in my car heading to The Pierre hotel was a blur. I could, though, recall "snapshots": hurriedly calling the waiter for the check, Mom and me holding hands sprinting across the street and down the parking lot ramp, and me rapidly giving the attendant the ticket. I entered the car first and as Mom got in, the light from one of the lot's overhead lamps came through the windshield and fell onto her legs. They glistened with her juices from under her dress to almost mid-thigh. The chubby in my pants lurched forward. Mom shutting the door broke my brief stare at her legs. She looked at me.

"Are you alright with this?" she inquired.

Right after the word "this" left her mouth, I responded, "Absolutely."

She moved toward me and kissed me on the mouth. It wasn't a wild, wet kiss but definitely not one a mother usually gives her son. Her right hand touched the left side of my face briefly while our lips were connected. As we broke off the kiss, her hand dropped down to my crotch and in one motion slipped it up and down along the contour of my pants-covered erection.

"Good," she commented softly, "because so am I."

I hung a left when we got street level and headed for The Pierre. I had been staying at the hotel the last two nights because of my late hours at the job. I had opted to bring clothes and stay there for the remaining of the week leading to my promotion. I figured it was much better than driving back home to northern Westchester at 1 in the morning only to have to return by 8 AM. As my first perk at being general manager the company owner, who had been paying for my stay at The Pierre, said I could remain there for the weekend if I desired. I glanced at my hot mother, nipples still erect and legs parted, and thought of the owner's offer—I definitely desired the hotel for the weekend.

We stopped at a red light and I got the first whiff of my mother's orgasm. My hard-on lurched forward, wanting to be like The Hulk and break free of the confines of my pants. We crawled in the evening Manhattan traffic to the next light, by which time the inside of my Mercedes smelled like a whorehouse during New York's Fleet Week. 

Fifteen minutes later we were at the hotel. I parked the car in the hotel's underground garage and we shot up to my room. As soon as I locked the door Joan, my mother, and I were back in each other's arms. We now had the necessary privacy needed for this special moment—a mutually desired incestuous union between mother and son—to really begin. Our lips were locked together with our heads swaying in circles. Our lips soon unlocked themselves to allow our tongues to meet, slipping around each other and darting back and forth in our mouths. Our hands were briefly running up and down our bodies, pausing to repeatedly caress our buttocks. The fingers now started reaching for clothes to remove. I unbuttoned my jacket and Mom pushed it off my shoulders; the jacket was the first item of clothing on the floor. I went for the zipper on the back of Mom's dress but she stepped back. Hungrily she said, "I'll take care of this," and replaced my hands with hers at the zipper, "you get your shirt and tie off." I loosened the tie knot enough to slip it over my head and toss it across the room. I started unbuttoning the shirt from the top and heard the zipper of Mom's dress get pulled down. I stopped my disrobing so I could watch and take in this scorching sight: my mother taking her clothes off her me. She kept her eyes on mine, her mouth shaped in a sexy grin. She pulled the top portion of her dress off her shoulders and with a few more motions, I watched with my mouth wide open as Mom's dress quickly cascaded down her body to become a pile around her high heels. My beautiful mother stood before me in naked glory except for her thong and heels, hands at her sides. Her breasts were truly magnificent: definitely 36s, with a slight sag, puffy areolas and nipples sticking out at me like two pink Hershey kisses. Her waist would be the envy of 20-and 30-something women. Her hips flared out, a great sign of her seductive maturity. Her legs were long, shapely, with the calves well-toned; I could clearly see the slickness on her thighs. What was between those legs was flimsily covered by her soaked panties. The thong was pearl white, which nicely offset against her slightly tanned body, and appeared matted against her pubic region. Her shiny black stilettos were the cherry-on-the-top for this erotic sight.




Velvet Ch. 03



"Wow, Mom! You are fucking hot!" I exclaimed. 

Her face turned humble, "Thank you, Paul."

My shirt and T-shirt were off of me and on the carpet. I sat down on the right side of the bed so I could remove my pants, socks, and shoes. Mom strolled by me toward the bed. She maintained her sexy grin. Her breasts and nipples jiggled. Her hips swayed with confidence. My face, from my forward bent position to remove my Gucci loafers, was a mere six inches away from her right hip. Her aroma of arousal hit me even stronger than before in the car. She sat on the same edge of the bed a little bit away from me and near the pillows. My shoes were now lying next to my discarded suit pants on the carpet. My effort to strip off my socks was thwarted by the action of my mother. She sexily bent her legs and very slowly took off her high heels. She then swung her legs toward her left and onto the bed, sliding her body down so her head was resting on the pillows. My hot and excited mother lay before me naked as a jaybird except for her panties. Her hands were behind her head which was tilted slightly to her right, reminding me of a Marilyn Monroe pose. This position with her hands behind her hand caused her bountiful breasts to swell out. With their hardened nipples, they looked to me like two fleshy mountains. But what took my breath away was seeing her spread her long, well toned legs before me. I was mesmerized as the saturated thong material stretched across her vulva. At that moment with her legs splayed open like a centerfold model, Mom's scent of stimulation, her sexual perfume, hit me like a good right hook. It also caused my brain to change in milliseconds my usual mode of operation with a woman, which was to work on the breasts first and then later "head south." This time I was going south first! I rapidly tore off my socks, the last stitch of clothing for me, and positioned myself on the bed toward my mother's beckoning cunt.

"No, let me see you first without clothes first," Mom stated, sounding ever-so slightly disappointed.

I grunted, "Later" as my face, mouth and tongue were being called to by her sopped pubic mound like The Sirens in mythology. My left hand steadied my upper body as my right hand reached to the top portion of the thong below her belly button. In one swift motion I tore off the flimsy material. Most of it was now in my clenched fist, a small sliver stuck in her ass cheeks.

"Oh!" Mom responded surprisingly.

Still maintaining the majority of the thong in four of out five fingers, I curled my right index finger and yanked the last piece of panty from between Mom's flattened buttocks. I held up my mother's thong like a trophy and brought it to my nose. I gave a mighty inhale of the wet silk: I was smelling deeply my mother's underwear which was filled with her juices which were ignited by my touch! 

In two seconds the pieces of panties were thrown to the floor and I shifted my attention to the actual prize—my mother's pussy. I gazed at. It was like a just-blossomed pink rose covered in morning dew. The lips were puffy, open, and wet...very, very wet. It seems that Mom's love nectar was brewing again. Above this alluring pink portal was a neatly trimmed thatch of raven pubic hair. It blew my mind that I was about to return to the same opening I came from 30 years ago! It blew my mind that I was about to eat my mother's pussy. I bent my head and dropped nose first into her pubic forest.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Mom happily exclaimed.

My nose had slightly passed against Mom's clitoris as my face descended between her thighs, and was probably the reason why she raised her bottom off the bed. I didn't want her going off so soon. I readjusted my face against her pubic mound, and slide my tongue between her wet labia.

"Ohhh, yessssssss!"

I wiggled my tongue through her cunt lips and savored for the first time the taste of Mom's excited pussy. The tip of the tongue eased in and out of the entrance to her womanhood. Her secretion blanketed my tongue and lips. Oh, the tangy taste of a woman in heat! I raised my eyes and enjoyed the site of my beautiful and aroused mother massaging her breasts while my head lay between her legs. Her eyes were closed, her face seem to be off in a dream. Her hands felt, weighed, and caressed each breast; the left hand cupping the left breast and the right hand with the right breast. Her breathing was very heavy now. She pinched and rolled the nipples, tugging on them gently. Then she did what I've seen often in porn films and love very much: she brought each breast close to her mouth and took turns licking the swollen nipples. She did this oral self-stimulation several times, stopping only to emit soft moans.

I now brought my hands onto the scene and with my thumbs pried apart her labia even more.

"Oh, God yes! Open me up, Paul! Yes, that's it!"

The wetness of Mom's pussy lips instantly coated my thumbs. I jabbed my straightened tongue in and out of her soaking cunt. 

"Yes, you sweet wonderful son! Fuck me with that delicious tongue of yours!" she crooned. 

After a couple of minutes, I stopped the tongue jabbing to admire the view. With my thumbs still spreading the wet petals, I gazed lustily at my mother's well of love. If you looked down in an ordinary well it seem like the blackness went on forever. The same could be said for the salmon interior of Mom's pussy. And just like many a well is wet within, so was hers. It seemed like another wave of womanly wetness was brewing. My mother's pussy pulsed forth with more nectar. I also enjoyed the rubbery feel of her lips. The taste...the smell...the taboo nature of this wet female sex...I was hooked! 

My trance was broken by Mom wrapping her long legs around me: my mouth and tongue were called back to work. Oh what joyous work! I fluttered my tongue up and down my mother's heated slit. My taste buds relished as more of her sexual ambrosia slide down my throat.

She raved, "Uh! Oh! Yes! Oh! Oh! Yes!"

I straightened out my tongue, stuck it back into Mom's pussy, and curled it up.

"Oh, that is wonderful!" she critiqued in a low voice. "Oh you do that so nice." As I wiggled my tongue side to side in her molten honey pot, she now commanded: "Eat me! Eat meeeeee!"

Next I placed my mouth over Mom's clitoris and tenderly lashed my tongue against it. This caused my mother to raise her torso off the bed and exclaim, "Eeeewwwwwwwwww!" I moved my right hand and slipped my index finger deep into her dewy pussy. She lifted her torso even higher than before and covered my scalp with the palms of her hands—like I was planning to leave. I did, however, need to breathe because I was literally being smothered by my mother's impending orgasm. I moved my head little away from her pubic area.

"I can't breathe, " I mumbled.

She was startled. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry." She moved her hands to the sides of her thighs.

I picked up where I left off: with my tongue slowly stroking my mother's clit and my finger back inside her cunt, now moving in and out rapidly. 

"Oh my God!" Joan yelled.

She ascended her torso again in response and brought her hands back to my head, but quickly returned them to her sides. As my fingers—the index now joined by the middle digit—slid in and out of my mother, there could be heard a sopping sucking sound. Meanwhile my lips carefully encircled her erect clitoris and took it into my mouth.

"Yes! Yes! That's it!"

The floodgates were literally open now as Mom's sexual fluids burst forth into my mouth, onto my tongue, down my throat and up my nose. It has always been a challenge for me to be gentle with the clit and at the same time being rapid with the finger-fucking. But it's a very enjoyable challenge! My mouth and tongue handled with care Mom's turgid clit while simultaneously my fingers fucked her twat for dear life.

"I'm coming!" she proclaimed with joy. "Oh God, yes! I'm coming!"

My mother's crotch rode my face into orgasmic bliss. She bucked like a rodeo rider and thrashed like a fish out of water. 

"Yes! Yes! Oh, fucking yes!"

I could hear her fingers grab hold of the sheets as she reached her peak. She gave one final thrust of her crotch against my face, and one more release of her ambrosia. My face was like a glazed donut; it was covered by her tangy sauce. And I loved every bit of that sauce being on me! I took my face away from her flooded cunt. She gradually brought her crotch back down to the massively stained bed sheet. I rested my head below her crotch, laying the right side of my face against the bed. The whole area around my nose—the space between her thighs and the wet sheets—circulated her sex smell. I took another deep whiff, and smiled. I rest my hands, palms down, on the top of her thighs. Her hands were outstretched on the bed almost like a cross. I noticed her breasts starting to rise and fall as her breathing was returning to normalcy. Her eyes were closed. 

We—well, I—rested for about five minutes. I inched myself up my mother's relaxed body. Her eyes opened as my face was in front of hers. She smiled.

"Oh Paul, that was wonderful."

I returned the smile and bent down to kiss her. Her lips met mine, and soon opened. Our tongues, old friends by known, got reacquainted by twirling around each other. It always turned me on to a kiss a girl after eating her out, sharing her pussy juice with her. Mom seemed to enjoy this oral transaction, as her mouth and tongue movements intensified against my own. She did a slow inhale, taking in her own sexual scent. My penis, which had started loosing some of its erection during the cool-down period, regained itself and lurched against her lower stomach. She wrapped her around me, the hands going to the back of my head and holding it until we mutually broke off the kiss. I lowered my face on the left side of Mom's face in the nap of her neck.

"Mom, I want you to be The Last for me," I said with all sincerity. "I want to be yours and yours only." I took away my face and looked at her. Her face looked the same like in the restaurant when I asked her to dance. Her eyes were readying to cry and her lips quivered.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you to my son, now my Only," she pledged back.

I pressed my lips against her. We kept our lips together, mutually knowing this was an emotional kiss and not an impending French. My mental attention was now on her massive breasts and upright nipples lovingly crushed against my chest. It was now time to tend to these two buxom beauties. I peeled away from the kiss and lowered my mouth to her right breast, taking the top of into my mouth.

Mom cooed, "Oh, sweetheart."

My tongue swabbed all around the massive mammary, delaying a concentrated "attack" on the engorged nipple. My tongue dragged literally all around Mom's breast, giving a couple of quick flicks to the lower curve area which connected the tit to her chest. She wiggled and giggled. Now was time to re-enact my baby days...and suck on mommy's nipple! My mouth covered the pink point and sucked on it adoringly. 

"Aaahhhhh," she sighed.

While I licked her right nipple and gently took it in between my lips, my right hand was giving amorous attention to her left tit. My fingers kneaded the fleshy melon, cupping it first from underneath as if weighing it. The hand continued its continued its caresses all around Mom's mammary for a bit more and then shifted gears to the quivering nipple. I rolled the teat between thumb and forefinger, eliciting a long moan from my partner in incest. I would soon alternate my actions. I shifted my body so my mouth landed on the peak of Mom's left breast while my left hand, which had been pretty much resting against her side, cupped her right breast.

Another sigh of joy came from my mother, along with, "Even as a baby, you were so gentle and caring with my breasts and nipples." I flashed her a smile. My mouth confidently offered to Joan's left breast the same oral loving I gave its partner. My hand also manually adored her right breast, including tenderly rolling and pulling the nipple.

"Paul, oh baby, you're making me wet again," Mom announced in a sultry tone. An idea struck me. Being right handed, I shifted my body so I brought my hand between my mother's legs. I rested my right hand's palm over her pussy opening. She was definitely flooding again, as my hand was being swept with a new wave of womanly wetness. I quickly rubbed her pubic area to increase the release of her juices. The low squishing sound told me I had the desired effect. I curled my index, middle and ringer fingers, and slipped them easily into Mom's slick opening. Her eyes, which had been pretty much closed during my tending to her tits, flew open at the unexpected intrusion of not one finger but now three.

"Uuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhhhhhh," she wailed.

I rotated the three curled digits inside my mother's twat and soon pulled them out with the desired prize—a glob of her sex juices! I marveled at how shiny my fingers were. My right hand zoomed to the top of her left breast and smeared her cunt cream all over the mammary especially the nipple.

Mom looked at me with wide-open eyes, "Oh my God!"

I stood kneeling next to her, manually painting her cream onto her breast. Then I dropped my mouth to cover the frenzied nipple. I brought both hands to the side of the tit. My ten fingers occasionally squeezed the mound of flesh, but their primary purpose was to hold Mom's mammary while I licked her cream-covered nipple and areola. 

"Holy shit! That is so fucking hot, Paul! I nev---" The sentence was never completed as sensory overload struck my mother. The whole scene—of me, her turned-on son, rubbing her reenergized pussy, sticking three fingers in it and scooping out her feminine ambrosia to smear it on her breast and resume suckling—was too much for her. Her body was like it had been connected to the infamous third railing in the subway—she was erotically electrocuted! Her eyes flickered close, her panting competing with the sound of my slurping her glistening breast. 

My mother's eyes would not remain closed very long, nor would her panting remain at an even rate. Her eyes flew open and her vocals instantly changed to a heightened "Ohhhhhh!" I used my fresh left hand the same way as I did the right, rubbing my mother's sex sweaty pubic mound, curling the same fingers as before into her overheated orifice extracting a heady lump of sex sauce, and smeared it onto her other breast. Both my hands repeated their gentle hold and occasional squeeze of this breast like the other one. And also like the other tit, my mouth and went to work on the excited and coated nipple. My mind and my taste glands relished the sensation of again tasting my mother's juices spread, now, over her right breast. 

Mom's head tossed side to side, her throat emitting a steady stream of "Ugh's". During her head thrashing she grazed against me. She looked at what she had touched; it was my fully erect and bouncing prick. She seemed in awe of my 7 ½ inches of manhood. She brought up her left hand and had my erection in her palm. She cradled it for a few seconds and then started to slowly run her palm up and down the length. It was now my turn to be bolted by surprise. I looked down at my mother, eyes glued to her manual manipulation and her mouth shaped in a small "o". She made a small "oh" sound, like when someone sees something appealing for the first time. She loosely closed her fingers around the shaft, continuing her stroking. Figuratively speaking: lightning bolts shot up in my head. My penis, after so many months without contact except for the occasional self-manipulation, was now being lovingly stroked by...my mother! The taboo nature of this fried my mind. Scenes from Taboo and Taboo II where the mothers held their son's hardened pricks like fine china seared through my mind. Mom looked up at me, grinning.

"My Paul, you really have grown," she teased. 

Her hand continued slowly jerking me off. She looked down at my tool and then returned to meeting my eyes. Her facial expression was one of mock surprise. "Is this all for me?"

Her menstruation was getting me dizzy. "Yes," I uttered.

"Do you really want me, your mother, to put your rock-hard penis in my mouth?" she quizzed seductively.

I croaked another yes.

"Are you sure you want your mother to suck and lick your stiff cock like a candy cane?" 

"Yes!" I answered loudly.

Mom was teasing me, but she herself could not take the teasing any longer. The look on her eyes went from devilish to determined. She moved her head, sending her tongue out to give the head of my dick a swirling loving lash, and then engulfed the whole penis. 

My lungs and mouth released a lengthy "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" The feeling was stupendous. She had virtually the entire length of my prick in her mouth. The implication was even more incredible: my naked mother, who I just orally and manually treated, was sucking my erect penis! I felt myself very lucky because it is said that boys and men have had sexual thoughts about their mother and the few who still maintain those erotic sentiments rarely get to enjoy those thoughts becoming reality. 

My mother Joan's ruby lips slurped my cock like a Popsicle on a summer day. She brought her left hand up to cup and caresses my swinging testicles. I heard her inhale the scent of my groin. She released my cock and looked up at me with fire in her eyes.

"I love your smell!" she hissed. Her right hand took hold of my tool and pressed it back against my stomach. She kissed the spot where the shaft and scrotum met. Then mom proceeded to lick my ecstatic erection up and down, down and up. The wet tongue dragged over my shaft's puffy blue vein. I, still in my kneeling position, tossed my head back.

"Ohhhhhhh, mom. You do that so good!"

She moved my boner away from my stomach so that it stuck straight out. Her tongue slid out, and around my dick's sensitive head. 

"Mmmmmm," she growled. 

Next Mom's tongue tickled the sensitive tip of my penis. My whole body shook like I had the chills from the flu. It was now me who was now getting erotically electrocuted. The joyous and erotic sensations traveled at light speed back and forth between my little head and my big head. I was so immensely enjoying my first blowjob from my mother. However, I did not want to cum in her mouth this first time together in incestuous love. I was nearing the point when I knew ejaculation was soon coming (pun intended). 

"Mom," I said.

Her only response was continued "mmm-ing" and slurping. I looked down as her tongue snaked around my cock head and then to the underside of the shaft. Next she was licking and kissing my balls.

I repeated, "Mom." She finally quizzically glanced up at me, her hot lips still pressed against my salivated scrotum.

"I'm going to come soon. But this isn't how I want to it to be—not our first time together." 

She took her mouth away from my sex organs, her look even more quizzical. 

I moved off the left side of the bed and stood on the floor. "We have so much time for me coming in your mouth." I moved to the foot of the bed and repositioned myself back onto the bed so that my body would cover my mother's body. "I want to cum the first time...inside of your pussy." I was mounting Mom, and her face seemed to now understand the sudden end of a blowjob we were both enjoying. She smiled, almost appreciatively. 

"You're a very caring lover, Paul."

"I am your caring lover," I countered, as my rigid cock slid downward along Mom's stomach. I was in the classic push-up position over my waiting partner. My penis was pointed at mother's portal of pleasure. It was as if a directed yelled, "Freeze!" We didn't move. I was ready to enter, and her open legs were prepared to accept. But our eyes, and our emotions, had to have their "say" before the actual physical moment. I was about to have actual intercourse with my mother. The cycle of sex—oral, manual, and penetration—was about to be complete. But this incestuous sex was not solely based on lust, but on feelings between my mother and I. We had always been close like "regular" mother and son. But Life threw us some curveballs of cruelty, in the form of adulterous mates. Our bond saw us threw those hurtful times, and blossomed into a love considered taboo by society. Well, to hell with society—I had often harbored the heart of a rebel anyway. A tear trailed from Mom's left eye down her cheek. She was smiling. I knew it was a tear of joy.




Velvet Ch. 03



"Make love to me, my son," she said.

At that moment I lowered myself and my hard cock entered my mother's open and soaking pussy. Simultaneously we sighed. I had slid my penis into my desirous mother—it was amazing! Absolutely amazing! We kissed, passionately, for a few seconds when Mom pulled away.

"Give me a moment to get used to you. It's been a while since I had a cock inside of me, more so I never had a cock as big as yours." She was almost apologetic.

I look tenderly into her brown eyes. I knew what she meant. Despite the easy entrance thanks to her well-lubricated hole, I could feel the tightness of my mother's pussy. It felt wonderful to me; it felt like velvet was wrapped around my erection. The wonderful sensation was tempting to me begin thrusting, but I had kind of figured Mom hadn't been sexually active the past several years.

"Don't worry, Mom. Take your time," I offered.

After a few moments, she said "Ok, but slowly." I raised myself sliding my penis almost out of Mom's cunt, but then brought myself down and gently re-entered her.

"Ugh," she grunted. I sighed.

"I love you, Mom" I declared as our torsos began to get in a slow sync of thrusting and accepting.

"And I love you, Paul." 

She spread her legs, keeping them straight, and forming a huge V. I knew she was finished getting acclimated to the presence of my penis in her pussy. Mom and I were fucking at a steady pace.

"Ah, uh!"

"Yeah, oh yeah!"

My cock and mind were relishing the wonderful feel of my mother's cunt,

Velvet.

That's what it felt like. Velvet. 

"Oh, yeah."