The Missing Book
Copyright© 2015 by Oscar Dante
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A boy leaves a book on his bed in his haste to school, and his mother finds it, and reads it, and then wants more.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/Fa Fa/Fa Ma/Ma Ma/mt mt/mt Mult Teenagers Consensual Gay Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Mother Son Father Swinging Orgy First Oral Sex Anal Sex Masturbation Double Penetration
My life changed forever on a warm day in May. I was cleaning my sixteen-year-old son's room. I know he should do it, but I keep it up. A normal daily occurrence as I've found that it's only a job of a few minutes.
I went into the room to make his bed. Today, he'd left a book on the bed. Eric loves books and he leaves them everywhere. So, today was no different.
I picked up the book and saw a very simple cover. There was a drawing in line art of a woman in a very skimpy bikini, her very large boobs were barely covered. She was looking at a young man mowing her lawn. He was drawn with a significant bulge in his tight shorts. The title of the book was "My Son Mows My Lawn." I thought the title rather stupid.
Now, remember this was in 1961. It was a time when ignorance was bliss, and books like I'd just found couldn't be purchased at B. Dalton's. The cover art was so strange, it didn't look like a genre I was familiar with.
I opened the book to the first page of text, Chapter One: My Son's Big Dick. I stared at it. Did it really say that? I read the first paragraph:
I hadn't noticed my son was growing into a man until the day I walked into the bathroom and caught him coming out of the shower naked. His cock hung halfway to his knees. He was huge. Well past his father's rather mundane prick. He jumped back in the shower, and I hurriedly left, but the image of his dick was still in my mind. My biggest regret over this accidental exposure, was that it was limp and I wanted to see my son's huge dick, hard and ready to fuck.
I read it again. While the writing was rather simplistic the image the words drew was powerful. The idea of wanting to see my son's cock seemed very arousing. I flipped to the middle of the book:
I had waited for this moment for weeks. My Don in my bed, his cock rock hard and me about to sit down on it and fill my cunt with its massive size...
I shut the book and put it back on his bed, and left the room without doing any clean up.
I made a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table and lit a cigarette. As I slowly smoked, I thought about what I had read. It was descriptive beyond anything I had ever seen in a book. It spoke of ideas not normally written about in books I read.
I stubbed out my cigarette and went back to my son's room and picked up the book. I looked at the lurid back cover as I walked back to the kitchen. Pouring another cup of coffee and lighting another cigarette I sat down at the kitchen table and opened the book.
As I read Chapter One I became aware that my body was becoming aroused. As if the words of this mother's story were my husband's hands working on readying me for intercourse.
I was wet. As I read on about the woman's attempts to see her son's cock again I felt the moisture seeping through my panties. A scene near the end of the first chapter had, Kay, the mother's name, lying in her bed and masturbating to a fantasy about her son.
I took the book into my bedroom and laid on the bed, then I got up and hiked my skirt and pulled down my white full cotton panties. Placing them at the foot of the bed, I reclined on the bed, and began to read and touch myself as did Kay.
I shared her fantasy of seeing my son, Eric's, cock, and touching it to make it erect. The graphic descriptions of her son's cock led me to believe that my own son's cock might respond to my touches.
At the end of the chapter I found myself climaxing with Kay. I cried out in the passion I felt as I frantically rubbed my clit. I laid the book aside and fell asleep.
Waking up just before lunch I took the book back to Eric's room. I didn't know what to do with it. If I put it back he might think I saw it. I couldn't have that. So, I put the book into the pocket of my summer dress, resolving to throw it away. A boy his age shouldn't be reading such books and having such thoughts about his mother. I went of the patio and tossed the book into the garbage can.
An hour later I was bent over the can retrieving the book. I took it back to my bedroom and laid down, after my first reading, I'd not put my panties back on. I just needed to pull up my dress and I could read Chapter Two with a similar outcome, an orgasm of a power I was not used to having.
I tried to throw the book away two more times, and retrieved it both times. I masturbated twice more before it was time for my son to come home.
I cleaned his room to perfection, but I took the book into my bathroom and emptied a box of sanitary napkins, and hid the book inside. No male would ever touch a sanitary napkin box.
I was making cookies when Eric arrived. He was out of breath, as if he'd run home. He gave me a quick, "Hi," and went to his room. He spent fifteen minutes in there. I could hear him moving things around.
I then knew what was going on. He was looking for the book he had left on his bed that morning. A book, I knew, he would not find.
He finally came out looking rather down, as if he was in a great deal of trouble, but the hammer hadn't fallen yet.
I invited him to sit down at the kitchen table. He slowly eased himself into the chair. Looking at me warily he said, "Did you find a book in my room today?"
"No, Eric. I cleaned your room, too. But I didn't see a book." I set a plate of cookies in front of him, and a full glass of milk." I smiled, "Was it an important book?"
I hoped my casual manner would make him think he hadn't left it out. He ate his cookies and drank his milk. His eyes followed me around the kitchen as I made supper. He must have decided that he wasn't doomed to die that day. "Mom, I'm going to my room and get started on my homework."
"That's good, honey." I said to his back. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I wanted to keep the book until I finished it, then I would put it under his bed where he might believe it fell.