****** Tainted Love by BocephusJones ******
===============================================================================

Tainted Love


I have a confession to make. I am not quite sure how to explain this, so I
guess I'll just start from my childhood. As far back as I can remember, I'd
been obsessed with women. It seems a bit strange since, as a toddler, I can
remember all my friends playing with their toys and not giving a damn about
girls. We would sit around and talk about everything and anything like what it
was like to be an Autobot or a Dinobot or silly shit like that. But me, I was
different. I was always the perverted one of the group, constantly trying to
get the kids to talk about sex and girls. I would ask them if they knew what
was under the girls' panties and what our mommies and daddies did when they
were on their beds at night. I would further explain to them some of my
theories of what was actually going on under those bedsheets, and eventually
the rest of the kids like Dave and Jack would look grossed out and tell me to
shut up. In fact, they would all tell me that I was a pervert. I probably was.

But I suppose it was only natural that I would know a bit more about girls and
be interested in talking about them since I had an older sister at the time
(about 3 years older) who would constantly talk with her friends when they were
over at my house about boys and shit like that. Even at the age of five, I'd
been playing doctor with some of the neighborhood girls. We lived in a suburban
neighborhood without a lot going on, and my house was the biggest one on the
block. So naturally, we attracted the greatest number of kids out of any of the
other houses. My father, the senior engineer, at some hotshot company was
always at work nearly around the clock with his important "projects," so my
mother had quite a bit of work around the house, cleaning up after all us
little shits after we tore through the house with mud-soaked shoes. What do you
expect? We were little kids back then.

Downstairs, during the day, was a madhouse. All us guys sat around playing with
our toys or wrestling while my sister and all her girlfriends were upstairs
chatting away about nothing or swimming in the backyard. I sometimes couldn't
stand my sister nor her bitchy little friends, but my mom would make sure I
don't cause any problems with them since she knew all the kids' parents pretty
well.

However, having these little bitches around the house did have its benefits.
Pardon my language, but as you will see, I'm a bitter and angry man, and you'll
eventually realize why. I hope you can see through it, though, and overlook my
crass attitude. Anyway, whenever I got sick during the summer, and it happened
pretty fucking often since I was a scrawny kid whom God had cursed with a
shitty immune system, I would have to stay home and either watch TV or read. I
actually didn't mind reading at all since it was one of my favorite hobbies as
soon as I'd learned how to read. And I probably would have been content staying
home all the time if it hadn't been for the fact that all the other kids would
be out swimming or doing other outdoor shit like that.

I haven't told you about the perks and benefits of being sick, but rest
assured, my faithful reader, I'll get to that. Anyway, my mother was at least a
loving mother. Managing the house probably left her drained at the end of the
day, but she would always take some time off taking care of everything and
manage to read me a story upstairs in my room. Winnie the Pooh. God I remember
those days when simple things like that could please me. I think it was a
special time for my mom, too. I figured somehow that I was the most precious
thing in her life. I was her little baby, the child of the father that actually
was her husband, unlike my sister, who was the result of a rape. Anyway, I
digress. I think when my mother was reading to me, she was somehow able to
forget (at least for the moment) all her painful memories and lose herself in
her words. She would sometimes pause to look up and run her hand along my
cheeks. She would smile and kiss my forehead. And whenever I saw that smile of
hers, my heart responded in kind and smiled back. Those silent moments were
magical between my mother and me. No words needed. I just felt her warmth all
over. Occasionally, as my mother sat next to me and was reading, I would find
solace and comfort in resting my head in her bosom. I felt secure as my head
rolled along the contours of her breasts, the same breasts with which I was
nurtured in my infancy. Not too big, not too small, the soft mounds of flesh
supported my head perfectly as she ran her free hand through my hair. This
occurred throughout my childhood, until probably when I entered Junior High.

But back to my earlier childhood. I believe I was around 12 or so by then.
Again, I caught me a nice cold, especially right before all the boys in the
neighborhood were about to leave for the summer camp. So I had to stay home for
the whole week while the rest of the guys had the time of their lives. I knew
they would. I'd gone almost every summer, and this time would have been no
exception. So you could probably guess that I was absolutely unapproachable
that Monday after the kids had all left. My mother tried to be especially
cheerful and consoling, but I would have none of it. I threw all my toys
against the wall, which was met with a couple of hearty bangs from my sister's
room. They were up to their boy chat again and obviously didn't want my little
tantrum to break their concentration, which I believe would have been
impossible to do anyway since they spent hours upon hours eating up shit about
which guy was the cutest and who liked who.

I doubt the girls had any idea what love was. At least not like the love I had
for my mother and the love she had for me. In a way, though, I felt sorry for
my sister; she was neither of my parents' kid. My mother just couldn't be as
good a mother to her as she was with me. I guess my sister just reminded her
too much of the rapist. And my father obviously couldn't give a shit about my
sister since she wasn't his. My sister found her love with her friends and
pseudo-boyfriends. As a normal kid, I wasn't too nice to my sister, but we both
knew that I treated her much better than anybody else would treat their sibling
at that age. Sometimes, at night, I would hear her sobbing into her pillow.
Nobody else could hear it but me, since my room was adjacent to hers. And I
know I'm no saint or anything like that, but I did feel bad when she would cry.
Sometimes it would just break my heart hearing her until I couldn't take it
anymore and would go into her room to try to comfort her. She would be on her
stomach on the bed with her face buried in the pillow. I would gently walk over
to the bed, sit next to her, and place my hand on her shoulder. We wouldn't say
much - what the hell am I supposed to say to her? "Sorry your dad's a rapist?"
"Sorry your mom can't love you like she should?" Fuck the world, I just sat
next to her. But she understood. She felt comforted by my presence, and that's
what counted, I guess. And with little sessions like that, we'd built a silent,
mutual understanding and respect for each other.

That next day, I felt a little better. Perhaps trashing my room had a
therapeutic, if not downright cathartic, effect on my mood. I was a bit more
cheerful, and was receptive to my daily reading session with my mother. A new
book that day, too. Old Greek plays - we'd become quite proficient at reading
by now between the two of us. As she read, my heart rested in her soothing,
calming voice. I again rested my head on her breasts. I'd been doing it since
early infancy, and she thought nothing of it. I ran my hand along her free
hand, massaging it gently, bringing her hand up to my cheek and running it
along my face slowly. My mother paused for a bit and kissed me on my cheek. I
smiled at her and gave her quick peck on the lips. She placed her arm around my
shoulders and firmly gave me a hug and whispered to me how much she loved me. I
said the same as I stared into her mesmerizing eyes. She had a flawless face.
To me at least. I'm sure other men found her fairly attractive, too, but I
never thought about that. I just stared into her eyes and noted how her past
had given her a pained expression, especially around her eyes. It was a loving,
but pained look. Again, I rested my head on her chest, this time rolling my
head to and fro playfully on her breasts, sort of like rolling over hills. A
particular fetish of mine, something I picked up since early infancy. I then
began to tickle her for all I was worth. My mother started squealing and
wiggling around in her cute little way and tickled me back until I ended up on
top of her. The tickling had gone on for at least five minutes, and I was now
sitting on her stomach facing her while her heaving stomach and chest kept me
gently bobbing up and down. I then began to tickle her again all over, moving
up from her stomach to her breasts. We were laughing with abandon, and when we
stopped tickling each other, I had her arms pinned on each side above her head
with my arms. She was stronger than I was, but she was still petite enough for
me to at least have a fighting chance whenever I wrestled her like that.

It wasn't until the laughter slowly died down that I noticed that I had an
erection. Well, I felt an erection I mean. I was only twelve, but I guess my
cock had been rubbing against her stomach and had been stimulated when we were
wrestling. I don't know if my mother noticed or not, but her breathing soon
became irregular as well, especially noticeable because of the silence. Her
face seemed a bit flushed, and she bit her lips as she was smiling at me. I
gave her another quick kiss on the lips, got up, and let her resume her
reading, although this time, the reading seemed to be somewhat labored.

"What do you want, you little creep?" Jamie yelled out as I entered my sister's
room. "Certainly not you!" I replied as soon as I took a seat among them. I
didn't go to my sister's room too often, but when I did, Jamie would never fail
to hurl a little insult at me. A little bantering here and there, but all in
fun. Yeah, they were little bitches, but I think they all thought that I was
cute and didn't really mind me bothering them. Jamie didn't either - she just
liked being obnoxious to me. Maybe she had a crush on me. But she was a little
plump for my taste, even though she was still sort of pretty.

"So which guy are you talking about today?"

"You!" Mindy burst into laughter as she answered me. She was the youngest one
of all, and possibly the prettiest one there, but even then it was a tough
call. She was the same age as I was, but she had no other friends in the
neighborhood so she spent all her time with my older sister and her friends.
"Yeah! We think you're really cute!!"

"Jessica, that was mean!!!!!" And all the girls started laughing. I sort of
knew girls, how they were, and what made them tick, so I wasn't too bothered by
them making fun of me. Pretty soon, I just sat there, and they started talking
again like I wasn't there. Of course, these girls (about 8 or so total) had
just entered into their early teen years and were developing quite well. I'm
sure their hormones were slowly taking over their minds and bodies as well.

"So Jason sees me during lunch break at school and like tells me to meet him
behind the gym after school... ," Julie explained. She was the most experienced
one (and decent looking, might I add) in the group, and all the other girls
looked up to her as their sexual role model. They hung onto everything she said
and ate that shit up as if it were their last meal before a famine. "... so the
bell rings, and I just can't wait to meet him! Oh, he's so cute!!!! OK, so
like, anyways, I go there, and he's just standing against the wall looking
around like he's bored. And then I go over there, and we just start saying
whatevers. Like, I was SO nervous. I didn't wanna say anything stupid in front
of him, but I didn't have to say anything cuz he just started kissing me, and
then he like starts massaging my boobs (accompanied by gasps among the girls)
and I just melted..."

By this time the rest of the girls were in a trance, but you could feel the
sexual tension in the air, especially with the fact that there was a male among
them. Only a twelve-year-old, though, I wasn't much of a sexual animal - just a
curious boy with a healthy craving for a bit of knowledge. About girls, that
is. They never ceased to fascinate me. I wanted to see what they looked like
sans clothes. I tried to imagine them, but I just couldn't do it. Not with my
inexperienced mind at least. As I was thinking all this, their conversations
took a turn for the more perverse, as it always did occasionally. "Let's play
Truth or Dare!!" Renee shouted all of a sudden. And I knew it was my time to
leave. Even if being around them was a little less boring than staying in my
room by myself, I couldn't stand those games, especially when they tried to get
me involved. So I just headed back to my room and picked up a book to read on
my bed.

It wasn't until 30 minutes later when I heard a huge burst of laughter followed
by complete silence. I could usually hear them chatting a bit, but this time,
nothing. Two minutes later, I heard a knock on my door.

"Come in!" I yelled, expecting a prank from one of my sister's friends. Mindy
walked in silently, looking especially sheepish. She looked around the room,
then at me, and giggled nervously. "Hey Mindy. What're you doing here?" I
asked, genuinely curious as to why she was in here, and for god's sakes, why
she was so nervous. She'd been in my room before, whenever she took a bathroom
break, to come by and say hi and stuff. Among my sister's friends, we were the
closest since she was so young.

"Um, I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what a blowjob is?"

"No, I think I heard it before, but not really."

"Um, ok. Have you kissed somebody before?" "Yeah, like my mom and stuff."

"I mean have you kissed a girl before? Other than your mom?"

"Nope." I was getting suspicious. Was she trying to kiss me? "Well, ok, never
mind then. I was gonna say a blowjob is sort of like kissing somebody, except
that you actually kiss their... thing."

"Thing?"

"Yeah, you know. Your thing."

"What're you talking about? Is this part of that truth or dare game you guys
are playing?"

She nodded. "So what thing?" I was slowly starting to get an idea.

"Your... um... (slightly suppressed nervous giggle)... your pee-hole." And
then, Mindy's face turned beet red. "So you're gonna kiss my dick?" I was
incredulous. At the same time, it was exciting me. Mindy nodded again. She
looked so cute, nodding like that. Her silky blonde hair, tousled slightly from
turning her head to and fro from laughing so hard with her friends, and her
twinkling blue eyes suddenly stood out before me. Only twelve, and she looked
like a beauty pageant queen. Maybe she could have been one of those Jon Benet
types back in the days. Normally I would object to whatever the girls wanted me
to submit to, but today was different, for obvious reasons. My heart starting
beating faster and faster, and I felt a hard-on through my shorts.

"How long are you gonna do it for?"

"They said for as long as it takes for you to cum." I didn't quite understand,
but I didn't care. "Um, ok then, I guess. I don't have to get naked or anything
right?" She shook her head, then walked over to the side of my bed. "Are you
gonna unzip me or should I?" As an answer, she slowly reached over and began to
pull down my shorts. Unzip? No zips on my shorts, but I was nervous as hell and
couldn't think straight. Good thing my mother was downstairs cooking a dinner
that would usually go cold since dad came home past midnight sometimes. Mom
usually lost herself in cooking and didn't do much babysitting for us when she
was cooking. Pretty soon, the rest of the girls were peering around the door
into the room, my sister included. This was a Dare they couldn't miss out on. I
wonder what the hell got Mindy to do something so outrageous like this.
Pressure to fit in, probably. Peer pressure's a bitch, and I understand how
that can be. Again, my mind was racing with all these different and disjoint
thoughts as Mindy slowly began to pull down my underwear. Her hands were
trembling by now, and she was licking her lips vigorously. My shorts and
underwear had slid down to my knees now, and I was still sitting upright in my
bed, in my normal reading position. Mindy's eyes widened at the sight of my
cock, probably her first one. She moved onto the bed, supporting herself on her
knees and facing me. She reached out and grabbed my cock as if it were a
joystick and started playing with it for all it was worth. I must have been ok
sized for a twelve-year-old, but let's face it, I was twelve. It was small. But
I didn't care, and I'm sure Mindy didn't either. She was too young to really
consider the full impact of what she was doing, and I wasn't about to let her
know. My cock was feeling really good about now as she started to pump it up
and down a bit. Then she stuck her tongue out, leaned over, and touched the tip
of my cock. I winced at the novel sensation. She flinched. But as she got
bolder, she slid her mouth over the head and started flicking her tongue
around. Her friends must have given her cursory instructions. The girls all
gasped at the door. Some, giggling quietly. Others, simply mesmerized.

As for me, I was in heaven. Her eyes, previously focused on my stomach, now
became more adventurous, and stared up at me. I just smiled and told her felt
really good. Taking that as an encouragement, she then engulfed my whole cock
into her mouth and started bobbing up and down forcefully. The warmth of her
mouth nearly drove me over the edge. I was slowly losing control of the
situation as she continued. Soon I was feeling slightly ticklish near my
crotch. I couldn't pinpoint it, but the feeling kept intensifying, gradually
building and building to the point where I felt that something was about to
happen to me. It felt like something was building up and trying to expel itself
out of my cock. I started gasping and my breath kept getting shorter and
shorter and Mindy's head started bobbing up and down like an engine piston.
Everything started getting blurry, and I couldn't do anything except grunt and
moan, "Uh, uh, uh! Oh! Oh! Oooh!" All of a sudden, the ticklish feeling simply
crescendoed to an extremely powerful climax as I extended my whole body upward,
my hips thrusting into the air as if whatever was trying to escape my body was
taking me along for the ride. Mindy didn't know what was happening, but she
figured the "cum" phase was pretty much over. And soon, the release was over,
and I started coming down from the clouds. Of all the experiences in my life
put together, this had to have been the most intense experience I had ever
felt. I don't know if anything came out of my cock; Mindy's mouth had been
covering my cock throughout the whole process. Retroactively thinking, nothing
probably came out at the age, but the orgasm was there. At least that's what I
learned a few years down the road.

I'm sure I'd given my sister and the rest of her voyeur friends plenty of eye
candy that day. Mindy seemed to have found a new hobby to keep her occupied
when she was over at my place, and whenever she could find the time to sneak
out of the girls' conversation, she would come over to my room and suck my
cock. But I never did venture any further than that. I suppose we were kids and
didn't know much more than that. Plus, I was still unsure as to how to go about
talking to her about her pussy. I had never seen one and didn't know what it
was supposed to be used for. I had my theories, but I figured maybe somebody
more knowledgeable could be of assistance in my quest for womanly knowledge.

A whole year passed without a whole lot of things going on. Dad was always late
now. He came home at 11 p.m. at the earliest. Most of the time in the evenings
into the night, I would see my mother sitting in the dining room staring
outside through a window. By dinner time, most of the kids had gone off to
their own homes, except for Mindy who would occasionally stay back. Her parents
were always fighting, so my mother would allow her to have dinner with us.
Sometimes she would spend the night in my sister's room, which worked out well
for us as she would sneak off in the middle of the night to give me a blow job.
I suppose it didn't get to where I was fucking her because we just didn't talk
much. We would say our greetings and all, but overall, she was a quiet girl. So
we never did anything that would give us any more ideas about what to do with
each other.

My mother was never one to really open up with her problems. I could only
gather information from what I saw and overheard occasionally from other grown-
ups. What horrors and pains her nonchalant expression was able to hide, it
couldn't hide the look of loneliness, which was clearly written (rather
eloquently) all over her lovely face. Since I usually didn't have much to do, I
would just walk over and sit next to her, leaning my shoulder against her
shoulder. Only then would her face slowly form into a smile. It was incredible
how I would literally feel the warmth radiate from her. I guess I was her
source of joy, probably an accurate guess since she made no effort to hide it.
She loved me with all her heart, and I knew it. For that reason, I couldn't
stand to see her so lonely. I wished I could have been like dad to her. By that
point, dad's only role in our family was to provide us with food and shelter.
By morning he was gone, so unless I had reason to stay up extremely late, I
usually never got to see him, for days on end. Sometimes, he would even sleep
over at work. As I see it now, something funny was up with dad, but at that
time, I never knew much about the whole situation.

I put my arm around my mother. "You miss having dad around, don't you?" She
could only muster a sigh. "I miss him, too. I wish he was around more often. Is
he coming home tonight?"

"No, he'll be away for a few weeks. He's at a very important conference
meeting. But it's alright, kiddo. I still have you around. And that's what
counts!," she replied.

I sensed that whenever I was near her, her loneliness was forgotten at least
for that moment. I had an idea. "Mom, can you read me a book? On your bed this
time? I can keep you company." My mother nudged my nose with hers.

"Sure, kiddo. Mommy will read you a book tonight. Since it's Friday, I'll let
you stay up extra late." I beamed at the thought of being able to keep my
mother company. I wanted to make her happy. My mother went upstairs to put my
sister to bed, and I followed.

In the master bedroom, I felt like a man. I even put on my dad's "playboy"
robe, stuck a pipe into my mouth, and pretended to puff it. My mother took one
look at me and broke into a hearty laughter, utterly amused at my silliness.

"Well, darling, shall we? What book would you recommend tonight?"

"We shall, dear," my mother played along.

"Would another Judy Blume novel be your cup of tea?"

"Posh! That is but kid's stuff, my fair lady. Tonight we shall read as man and
woman! Bring out 'Sweeter Savage Love,' and we shall make a night of it!"

My mother nearly fell over laughing while I was beside myself with pride at
being able to put on such airs. I then proceeded to her bedroom bookshelf and
picked up the book and began reading random parts out loud. As I was reading, I
realized that this book was indeed only for adults. I didn't understand all the
words in this book, but I got the idea that it was highly graphic in a sexual
way. My mother stopped laughing and gave me a strange look. She kindly
suggested that I put away the book and go pick one out in my own room while she
changed into her nightgown.

I changed as well in my room, but decided to keep the robe on. I liked how it
felt, like velvet. I decided on "Catch-22" as the book to read tonight. I
actually read it myself at least three times, but I just wanted to have my
mother read it. There was something in her voice that just made everything
alright, so I really didn't care what she was reading. I doubt she did either.
It had simply become a ritual by which we would spend time together. Mother was
in her usual pink nightgown. It did a good job of accentuating her curves. I
must admit she was an attractive woman. At least to me she was the most
beautiful woman in the world. I felt privileged to be next to her in bed as she
began reading. Again, I rested my head on her chest. I was high with the
feeling of spending intimate time with my beautiful mother. I ran my fingers
along her belly as she was reading out loud. Her voice resonated in the room;
it almost sounded like she was singing. Thinking back, she had the sort of
voice that could give a guy a hard-on just from hearing her say "hi." I rolled
my head back and forth rhythmically, feeling the soft, fleshy mountains
massaging my head. However, as she kept reading, more so than any other night,
her breathing patterns changed. As I kept rolling my head, her breathing became
more and more labored. It went on to the point where her voice even cracked. I
sat up and looked up at my mother, wondering what was happening to her. I
started massaging her neck with my hands while giving her soft kisses on her
cheek. This was nothing out of the ordinary, but ever since that time when she
and I went on a tickling rampage, mother had been more careful with her
displays of affection.

Everything had gone uneventfully until that night. I asked her if anything was
wrong, to which she replied that she was okay, as if she just snapped out of a
trance. She then gave me a kiss on the cheeks. Then a kiss on the lips, except
this time, she held the kiss on the lips. It was an intoxicating kiss, to be
sure, but I felt strange, too. I didn't know what was happening, what she was
doing. When we broke off the kiss, my mother had that same flushed feeling she
once did after our tickling session.

"Mom, do you miss dad?"

"Yes I do, kiddo."

"But I'm with you, mom. I can be like dad to you." My mother let out an amused
giggle. "Kiddo, sometimes your dad and I do different things than what I do
with you."

"What about that long kiss?" Mom froze. She was fishing for words to explain
what she'd done, but couldn't get them out of her. "Mom, is that what you and
dad do at night? Kiss each other for a long time? We can do that, too, can't
we?"

"Well, we can hug and kiss, but we shouldn't do anything more than that. It's
wrong." "Who says, mom? I really love you, and I don't want you so lonely like
that. I want to be like dad to you. I wish dad were here, too, but since he
isn't, maybe we can try to make up for it." By now, my mother had sort of a
troubled look on her face. I could tell by the way she grimaced. She now had a
far-out look about her, as if she were immersed in deep thought.

"Mommy?"

"Hmm... ?..."

"Mom, I love you."

She regained her focus again. "Hey kiddo, I love you, too. Son, I really want
you to listen to me. What happens tonight will make things complicated between
us..."

"But doesn't it feel good when I touch you like this?" I asked her as I
massaged her breasts. Although probably her pussy had always been off-limits,
my mother had been liberal with her breasts as I had always been the proverbial
mama's boy.

"... oh, yes it does, kiddo... it's just that..."

"But I like it when you feel good. I want you to feel good. There's nothing
wrong with that, right?" As I kept massaging her breasts, she seemed to slowly
lose her resolution. She probably knew that it was wrong, but as her breathing
became heavier and heavier, I could sense that she really wanted to think that
it was ok.

"... oh... yes, son. When two people who love each other touch each other like
that, it's alright..."

"Mom, then show me exactly what those people do when they're in love. Show me
what you and dad do, please?" I was probably being a naive kid, but at 13 years
of age, I was also horny. Extremely horny. I began to run my hands all over my
mother, caressing her hair, her breasts, her thighs. My mother had made up her
mind. She slowly removed her nightgown and the rest of what was covering her. I
marveled as her breasts came into view, the very same ones that had nurtured
me. I instinctively planted my face into them, licking and sucking the nipples.
My mother gasped. She began moaning and purring, whispering how it felt
heavenly. I was encouraged. I kept sucking on the nipples, alternating every
now and then while I kept massaging her inner thighs as her hands guided me
there. As we lay on the bed together, I was overjoyed as my mother was showing
me how a man pleases a woman.

"Oh God, Oh God, Oh Kiddo that feels so nice. Touch mommy there. Oh yes!" I
moved up and kissed her. This time, our tongues met. Our mouths were in perfect
union as we drank of each other's fluids. My mother then guided my head between
her crotch. She then explained to me what dad did in that position. I didn't
know what I was doing, but I greedily licked the moisture gathering on the lips
of her cunt. My mother showed me her clitoris, and I immediately got to work.
She'd been extremely aroused already and could take quite a bit of stimulation
there. My tongue started to tire out, but I didn't want to stop pleasing my
mom, so I kept on going. Meanwhile, my mother started to spasm a bit. Her hips
kept thrusting into my face as I tried to follow the motion of her hips. I
could feel that she was on the verge of something as her moaning became louder
and her breaths shorter and shorter as she gasped, "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!
Don't stop! Oh! Oh! Oh! My beautiful son! Oh! Ooooh! Ooooooo! Oo!
Ooooooooooooh!!!!!!!" until her body arched, remaining in that position as if
it were some sort of a still-life painting. Her vaginal fluids more prominent
now, I lapped it up and followed her hips down till it made contact with the
bed again.

My mother smiled. She suddenly seemed to be at peace with the world. She seemed
dazed. When she regained focus again, she planted another deep, tongue-twisting
kiss on my lips and slowly moved down. While she was kissing and licking my
nipples, she took off my robe. I got the hint and removed my pajamas. When I
got fully naked, I played with her breasts some more while she kept going
further and further down. She looked up at me as she kept licking further down,
and I remembered Mindy and the first time she had given me a blow job. Mindy
had never swallowed once I began to cum visibly. She tasted it once, spit it
out, and had been in the habit of spitting it out every time she gave me a blow
job. I wondered what my mother would do. Mother reached my cock, which stood at
an impressive height at my age, and sank her head down, covering every inch of
it.

"Ohhh, mom, that feels nice. Oh, I love you, mom!" I caressed her hair as her
tongue expertly glided over her son's cock-head, pleasuring my swollen and
pulsating cock, making love to every inch of my cock with her mouth. Out of
instinct, I started to slowly thrust. The feeling gradually built up within my
balls, I sensed that I would come soon. Mom kept her eyes firmly on my eyes as
she just moaned, "Mmmmmmmmmm" to me. I started to feel the pressure building
and building to the point where my whole body started to spasm, and as my cock
started to pulsating in that orgasmic overture, I released my boy-juice into my
mother's mouth. Into the mouth and down her throat, she received it all,
allowing none of it to escape her. I collapsed on the bed, exhausted for the
moment. Lying next to my mother, our mouths again met. This time, as we swirled
our tongue around, I tasted my own juice in her mouth. It was a perfect
testimony to our union: my mother's juice in my mouth and mine in hers as we
mixed them together with our saliva. It was our expression of togetherness. But
of course, there was more.

I was young. And being young, I could easily achieve another erection and
orgasm. Now my mother would show me the ultimate expression of union. My mother
sucked me to erection, lay on her back with her legs spread wide open, and
guided my cock into her opening. With slight gasps from each of us, I moved in
until her motherly cunt had covered every inch of my boyhood meat. Now, we were
one. We just held that position for a few minutes, savoring the moment. I
kissed her, whispering to her how much she means to me. I then started to
thrust in and out. First slowly, then increasing the thrusting rate. My
mother's hip met me thrust for thrust. We were in perfect sync. I was delirious
with the feeling of fucking my lovely mother. As our body undulated together, I
inwardly paused to enjoy every little sensation made possible in this love-
making process: the musty smell of sex in the air, the peaceful expression on
my mother's face, my chest pressing into her round breasts, and my hips
thrusting in their primitive, procreative instinct. My mother and I. We. Us.
Both of us felt the orgasm building. It would be the ultimate climax to the
ultimate expression of love for each other. As our lips remained locked, the
waves of pleasure came crashing down on us like tidal waves, and we entered
into what felt like hours and hours of bliss and oblivion, so powerful were the
waves of our mutual orgasm. The stream of sperm kept shooting and shooting for
all my boyhood sexuality was worth till I eventually emptied myself into my
mother's womb. When the moment left us, we were like the survivors of a
hurricane, exhausted as we lay side by side. My mother's eyes closed, and even
as she had much to say, she remained silent. Her arm rested on my chest, and we
both fell asleep.

That was the last love-making I had ever made with my mother. We never spoke of
it. We didn't have to. The understanding between us went straight into the
marrow of our bones. Deep down inside, she and I both knew that incest was
wrong. But what was so wrong with it? Was loving each other so wrong? Love, in
its purest form, is never wrong. It is love that is tainted with a bit of
everything else that makes it so difficult for us to believe that love is the
answer. But it is. It is the answer to everything. Even my love for my mother
and her love for me, as intense and complete, was tainted love. It was out of
wedlock. It was immoral. Where morality guides our understanding of love, we
allow immorality to distort our view of love. But sometimes, tainted love is
the best we can do in a world like this. It was good enough to sustain my
spirits even after the rapist escaped from the mental asylum and murdered my
mother, my father, my sister, and ultimately himself. His love for my mother
was there, I believe. I believe he loved her. But I also believe his love was
tainted with jealousy and bitterness, and it had driven him to hate. It was the
solution to his problems, but it didn't not solve all problems because it was
tainted love. As for me, while I am on this earth, even as I am tempted to hate
all that exists, I will strive to love more. Perhaps my bitterness and hatred
will slowly but surely dwindle if I love. Perhaps love will finally absolve the
sins of my past. I can only hope.

By BocephusJones - bocephusjones@hotmail.com

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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