Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Heterosexual, Fiction, Mother, Son, Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, .
Desc: Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Annie Sullivan is, first and foremost, a clinical psychologist. Single mother, friend, volunteer, occasional lover ... everything else is secondary. The Privacy Project began with a baby video monitor in her son's nursery and was followed by increasingly advanced hidden cams everywhere. Her son Christian's home life was recorded, every second. Annie conceived this as scientific diligence. She would write a groundbreaking paper, maybe a book. But she got carried away.
Annie Sullivan sat down with her son Christian as soon as she got home from the hospital. She had the discipline to will herself to listen to her 13-year old's often tedious day. She did this no matter how eager she was to check out that afternoon's videos from her cams hidden in every room of her small two-bedroom house.
Had he jerked off this afternoon? How many times?
Annie was smart. Not top of the class smart, but intelligent enough to realize she was indulging in behavior that was borderline obsessive. And she was taking advantage of her own flesh and blood. No, it was more than that -- besides taking voyeuristic advantage of the boy, she was taking increasing personal pleasure from it. Sexual pleasure, just from watching Christian, one step removed.
And that wasn't the worst of it. She let her best friend, Nancy, watch Christian masturbate too. Nancy, her oldest friend. She and Nancy sometimes still fooled around with each a little, just once in a while. Well, more often when they were both between lovers.
And letting Nancy watch Christian wasn't even the worst of it. Annie, when she was feeling particularly close to whoever was her current boyfriend was, might let him watch her son too.
Annie held back a yawn as Christian was rambling on and on about a basketball game -- shirts and skins got her momentary attention -- that he had played in gym.
Annie studied her son. Typical 13-year old Denver boy. Slender, already taller than her 5' 4", dark brown hair, a nice, slightly crooked smile, one dirty sneaker untied. Her gaze, as it did several times a day, flitted momentarily over his lap. No sign of an erection. Had he or hadn't he jerked off after school? Oh well, she'd find out soon.
Annie had been proud when she conceived the idea of recording her baby's first two years on Planet Earth. She saved every day of his little life, with a detailed index so she could review any day, any incident, anything.
Her scholarly paper would be original, detailed, seminal.
Annie wasn't a tech head, but she kept up with the latest in computers, hidden cams, digital video recorders and the like. Her equipment, including every Apple product on the market, was state of the art.
She told Linda, "I need the best. When my book comes out, it'll all be a tax write off."
The paper that she didn't write had become the book that she wasn't writing.
Linda doubted that Annie would ever begin her book, let alone finish it. But she never said anything, never teased her, that's how good a friend Linda was to Annie.
Annie still stored every second of every minute of every day of Christian's life at home on Valdez Street. That was the official record that she indexed for her Privacy Project book.
The Privacy Project was, of course, an ironic title. Christian had zero privacy. At home anyway. Annie just knew the academic audience for her book would appreciate her wry sense of humor.
But Annie also kept a carefully edited, and much shorter, copy of 'the good stuff.' The index of sexual activities was not only more condensed, but much more interesting. And, as Christian grew older, his erotic behavior should grow richer and fuller.
In addition to recording her son's activities, Annie -- for the sake of scholarly posterity -- kept a record of what her passing-through boyfriends did and said while they watched her naked son jacking off to porn on his MacBook Air. Or his iPad Air. Or his iPhone 6 Plus.
It never occurred to them that they too, were being observed by hidden cams. From four different angles. Annie had every room in the little house covered with both wired and wireless cams.
Once Annie finally got Christian out of diapers -- thank God! -- she kept him nude as much as possible. And she stayed naked herself. Annie rather enjoyed watching herself move from room to room when she reviewed the day on her TV set. Christian lasted longer than Annie had anticipated, he didn't start demanding clothes until he was nine.
For her book, Annie hadn't decided to mention that she herself was also nude those first nine years. If they chose, as they certainly should, to make a movie out of her experiences, she would leave it up to the professionals to decide if she appeared nude.
Right now, Christian was still going on about that fucking basketball game as Annie took a mental inventory of herself. She'd never had a weight problem, she fluctuated up and down very little from her 110 pound average.
She was pleased enough with her 32 B boobs. She had told Linda, "The only reason I'd want bigger bazooms is when I'm giving Christian a treat." And that same reason -- Christian -- was why Annie had Linda wax her pussy on a regular basis. Annie wanted to be at her most visible on those rare occurrences when she appeared in the buff in front of her son.
Annie listened to Christian's voice in the background as her mind drifted to her friend, Nancy. Instant friends in 7th grade, still best friends. She'd seen Nancy through both her divorces. One of which was entirely Nancy's fault. They didn't talk much about that one. More pleasant to discuss The Asshole.
Nancy, a dental technician, was three inches taller and 40 pounds heavier than Annie. Nancy no longer kidded herself about the next diet. She just relaxed and enjoyed her life.
Christian and 'Aunt Nancy' adored each other, always had. She was his godmother, his shoulder to cry on, his best friend, his confidant. Although Nancy immediately told Annie every secret he ever imparted. Even though every secret was caught on camera.
Nancy was also a sex goddess. To Christian. Boobs. Nancy had 'em. Big, bouncy boobs. She never wore a bra in Annie's house. When she stopped by straight from work, that was the first thing to go.
In one of her favorite games with Christian, Nancy would unbutton an extra button, Annie would play with Nancy's nipples until they poked out, and Nancy would make a beeline for Christian.
She would put on a little show, brush a boob against his arm, and talk dirty to him, "Sneak over to my house tonight. I'll fuck your brains out, stud boy."
Nancy would have Christian crossing his legs in seconds. Annie watched, and listened, from Central Headquarters in her bedroom. When Nancy figured she had the boy at a fever pitch, she'd rejoin Annie and the two girls would watch as Christian beat off, often not even pausing when the first gobs of cum shot into the air.
As much as Christian adored Nancy, as much as she could enflame him, his mother could double that, triple that, quad-whatever that. As most little boys, Christian had been in awe of his mother. So far, he hadn't begun to outgrow his adulation.
He thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She wasn't. But she wasn't bad either.
Ever since she was 8 or 9, Annie had practiced her 'look, ' always nude, in front of a full length mirror. Now 30, Annie -- through makeup, clothes, hairstyle and, most of all, through just her fucking attitude, could project different personas.
She could be, as she usually was at work, briskly professional. Out on the town, flirty. Pissed off, a bitch. In the right mood, talking with the right boy, or boys, a slut. Sometimes, with the right doctor, a little bit of the slut look crept in at work.
With Christian, Annie was even better. She loved keeping him off balance, he never knew who to expect. She rarely had to do Mom. He was basically a good kid, didn't give her much trouble.
Often, like now, still listening to that fucking basketball game, Annie was Pal. Other times she was Merry Prankster, pranking him by putting plastic wrap over the toilet. Or sneaking into the bathroom and dumping a bowl of flour on his head in the shower.
But Annie's favorite, by far, was Innocent Slut. When she showed the latest Saturday evening video to Nancy the next morning, Nancy shook her head in mock despair, "You are one sick cookie."
What Annie had done before leaving on a date was carefully apply makeup, pin her brunette hair up so her face and Audrey Hepburn neck were free, put on 4-inch fuck-me heels, pat her bald pussy softly and walk into the kitchen where Christian was putting away his first slice of pizza.
Annie was stark naked and held a little-nothing black dress in one hand and a little-nothing red dress in the other. "Honey, you decide, I just can't make up my mind."
Christian, and he absolutely wasn't aware that he was rubbing himself through his jeans, stared, goggle-eyed, looking everywhere except into his mother's face. Annie kept her completely nude surprise attacks to a minimum. She had other ways to torment and inspire him.
He was speechless. Annie said, "I know. Let me try them on." She slipped into the black dress and said, "Zip me up, baby. No! Wash those greasy paws first. Thank you."
She posed for her son, front and back. Then had him unzip her -- shaky hands -- and stood nude for a moment holding up the red dress. She slipped into that one and turned her back to be zipped again.
"Make up your mind, he'll be her any minute."
"Uhh ... black."
Annie had known he'd say that, had known he'd select the dress she didn't have on. She smiled, "Good choice, stud, I agree." She took off the red dress and was again naked. Just then the doorbell rang.
"There's my date." Annie put her hands on his shoulders, smiling up at her son, "Rules?"
Christina was trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to not look down at his youthful mother's body. He cleared his throat, "Uh, don't answer the phone unless it's you or Aunt Nancy. Don't answer the door. Call 911."
"Hmm ... did an alien sneak into your brain? You actually remembered. Give me my goodnight kiss, I'll probably be late coming home."
Annie put her arms around her son and pulled him against her naked body. He hated to see his mother leave, especially on a date, but The Kiss was his favorite part of their nightly routine. Annie had always kissed him on the mouth, ever since he was a toddler. She kissed him goodnight every night without fail.
It was almost a motherly kiss, except for two or three seconds of tongue. In his excitement, Christian had forgotten to hold his lower body away from Annie and she she was pleased as she felt his boner press against her bare tummy.
Annie broke the kiss and, smiling broadly, put on the black dress. Christian was already unconsciously licking the trace of lipstick that Annie had transferred to his lips. He had learned to love the taste which he naturally associated with his mother.
She handed him the other dress and said, "Just wad it up and throw it on the floor of my closet." He laughed, he loved going through her silky clothes, smelling slight hints of her soft floral scents.
Christian also loved going through her panties, but hat was another topic. Annie was pleased that her date was right on time. Christian's last memory would be her pulling on her dress with no underwear. No, it would be her nude bod, he'd remember about the underwear the next day.
Out at dinner that Saturday night, Annie was slightly bored, just a little, with her date. As she often did, she let her mind drift back to the kitchen scene earlier. When she got home, whether she fucked this guy or not, she'd check out what Christian had done as soon as she left.
Annie doubted it had anything to do with pizza.
Annie talked with Christian often about sex. She enjoyed doing it and she knew it thrilled him, even more than it embarrassed him. She and Nancy decided that Annie should have the porno talk with Christian before puberty hit. Especially before puberty hit.
Annie set aside an hour or so on some Saturday mornings. She started with the standard fare -- sex is normal, sex is wonderful, yadda, yadda. She went slowly, taking an hour here, an hour there. Sometimes she'd skip an entire month, she didn't want to overwhelm him.
She started with the basics in their most conservative form -- line drawings of bodies, proceeding into sex acts. Annie moved up into nudie magazines, then, weeks later, more graphic ones.
Months after they had started chatting about sex in what she tried to maintain as casual conversations, she introduced Christian to Internet porn. She told him, more than once, "Honey, come see me before you visit a new site. I know you boys all explore -- and that's good, you should be curious. But there are some nasty things out there that you don't want to see and I don't want you to see."
She had had software installed on all his devices by a boyfriend who seemed to know what he was doing. And Annie told Christian about it. "Baby, I'm happy for you to watch porn, not all the time, but sometimes. But I have to know that I've approved what you're watching. Just so you don't have an accident, don't go somewhere you're not supposed to, I had software installed that tells me everywhere you go, even when you delete your history."
"I get it, Annie, you don't have to keep telling me."
She had had him call her Annie ever since he could talk. She didn't want to be Mommy, and certainly not Mom.
Among the 'approved sites' were several featuring young boys and older, but not old, women. No grannies, thank you very much. More the age of Annie and a slightly older Christian. Nancy's reaction: "Turn yourself in, Annie, before it's too late."