Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Incest, Mother, Son, First, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Petting, .
Desc: Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A teenaged boy realizes he is in love with his mother and tries to convince her to engage in a physical relationship.
The whole thing started when Dale moved out. My mom and Dale had been together a long time, but finally she just had enough of his crap, and kicked his ass out. I was glad to see him go, he and I had never gotten along very well, we basically lived in the same house and ignored each other. I felt a lot of satisfaction to see him go, and I wanted him to know it, I wanted him to know I felt like I’d won, but I didn’t say anything, and I stayed out of his way. I figured he’d feel like he didn’t have anything to lose, now. I know he’d wanted to pound my ass for years, and I didn’t want to have that as a going-away present.
Anyway, by Sunday night all his shit was out of the house, and my mom was going to call first thing Monday morning and have the locks changed. I went to school nervous for her, I was afraid I’d come back home that afternoon and find him back, and everything like it was before. I was relieved to find him still gone, and her still resolute. I asked if he’d called, and she shook her head. Good, I thought. Good, and goodbye.
That night I went and got a pizza and we ate in the living room, watching TV. She finally hit the mute and had a long rambling talk about what she hoped to accomplish with her life now that Dale was gone and stuff like that. She apologized to me a hundred times for letting him stay for so long and she got all weepy and finally I just held out my arms and she flew into them and I held her while she cried.
“Well,” she finally said, sitting back up. She looked at me and laughed sheepishly. I smiled. “Well, Rob ... if I ever get into something that screwed up again, let me know ... I’ll listen to you, from now on...”
I laughed. I knew it wasn’t that easy. But I nodded. “I’ll tell you, mom ... but please ... don’t do anything for a while ... until you get him totally out of your system...”
“Yeah,” she said, “I know. I will, don’t worry, that’s the last thing I want right now. I just want to feel free, now. I want to be myself again.”
We sat on the couch and I held her ... she was nice and warm and smelled good ... and now, she didn’t belong to anyone. Anyone but me. I think, I really think ... although it was probably already inside me, somewhere deep in my mind ... but I really think that’s when it all started.
I felt great, that first night, even though I cried on the couch with Rob for a while ... I felt free, like a huge weight had been lifted from me. I don’t think I realized how much Dale oppressed me, I guess I’d just gotten used to him, or something ... but I felt like my life was starting all over again, now that he was gone. I couldn’t have been happier, although, like I said, I did cry some. Well, that’s understandable, the whole ordeal was pretty emotional, and of course Dale played the sympathy card to the hilt, all his usual crap. He was a master of emotional manipulation and I’m just now starting to see how much he played me. He couldn’t do it with Rob for some reason, though, Rob seemed immune to his ... powers. Maybe it only worked on girls, I don’t know.
Anyway, it was a relief to finally have him gone. I looked forward to sleeping alone for a while and getting to run my own life. As I lay in Rob’s arms on the couch, I thought, I’m free, I’m finally free.
Looking back, it seems like to me ... I know this sounds crazy, but it seems like the whole thing between Rob and me started that night, that night that Dale left, that night that he held me in his arms. I know that’s crazy, it’d have to be something much deeper than that ... but that’s the first time I noticed the ... the attraction.
Life went on. Things were definitely better. My mom was her old self, she laughed now, at funny things, and at even not so funny things. I hoped that she could realize how much Dale had weighed her down and I think she did. She seemed to enjoy life more, much more. I was happy for her.
Things weren’t going that well between Celeste and me. We finally had a long talk and decided to just be apart for a while. I dunno what her real problem with me was, she could never really seem to get it across. Like my mom and Dale, it was a relief to finally walk away from her. I mean, we didn’t say that’s what we were doing, but I think we both knew it. It was over, what little of it there had been. I was actually relieved because I knew I wasn’t making her happy. I didn’t know what she wanted and I’m not sure if she did but it didn’t seem to be me.
Rob didn’t let me into his life very much when Dale was around. Plus, there was just that secretive nature of teenagers. I figured out he was on the outs with Celeste from a few things he’d said and I finally asked him. We had a nice talk and he told me he was through with her. Good, I thought, although I didn’t say it out loud, what little I knew about her I could tell she was a jealous, manipulative little bitch. We women just know. I felt like he deserved better. I was glad she was gone.
And I actually did think to myself, he needs somebody like me. Somebody that really cares about him. I could be like that, now that Dale wasn’t smothering me. I had time for Rob, now. I tried to comfort him as best I could, and make him realize that Celeste had been a learning experience, a lesson, and the next time it would be better. It had to be.
My mom was pretty sympathetic about the whole Celeste thing, and I told her a lot more than I would have ordinarily. Well, more than I would have if Dale would have still been around. I felt much closer to her now that he was gone. I liked my mom, she was good to me, and she was young and hip and ... I faced it ... she was attractive. She had appeal. That night ... I dared to first think it ... she had sex appeal. She was foxy. Every bit as the girls I went to school with. I got a kind of thrill as I thought ... yeah ... I’d do that ... It bothered me to think that about my mom, but it didn’t bother me that much.
As the days went by, the idea solidified in my head. I started watching her closer, looking for something to not like about her. There wasn’t much. She gave me my space without being intrusive, but I still knew she cared about me. Hell, I gotta say ... I knew she cared about me when Dale was here, the distance that was between us then was pretty much my doing. I guess I resented her liking him or something. Now I felt like ... now I felt like she was all mine. I could tell I was more possessive of her than I’d been before. I realized that once when we went shopping and I kept noticing guys staring at her. I realized I was getting all pissed and it amused me. I was acting just like I’d acted with Celeste at the beginning. I wondered ... was this the beginning again? I realized how much I hoped it was. Although ... that idea is crazy ... I mean, my mom? Crazy.
That night I did something ... pretty far out. And the effect it had on me was pretty far out, too. We’d gone to bed, and I was just laying there ... thinking ... I was slowly stroking myself, and thinking ... something that I’d seen that evening occurred to me, again. I quietly got out of bed, put my shorts on, and crept down out to the garage, where the washer and dryer were. I was nervous to turn on the light, but if she caught me I figured I could say I was looking for some underwear or something. That was kinda true, anyway. There, on the floor, was the dirty clothes basket that was usually in the bathroom. I dug through it ... and ... pay dirt. I fled back to my room, my prize crumpled up in a small ball in my hand.
In my room I examined them closely. Beautiful. A pair of her panties. With high expectations, I pressed them to my nose. Oh god ... I cannot describe the rush ... I am smelling her pussy, I told myself. I am that fucking close to it. It was heavenly. I turned on the light on my table, and I could see a white streak where I imagined her pussy would have been, and the tiniest hint of a brown mark where her fabulous asshole was. I felt a closeness to her that I’d never felt before, I felt absolutely intimate with her. It was beyond words, almost.
I’d smelled pussy before ... well, just Celeste’s ... I’d smelled her on my fingers, a few times ... but this, for some reason, was incredible to me. Just knowing who’s scent it was ... it turned me on like nothing ever had before. I don’t think even a pair of Celeste’s panties from the start would have affected me so.
I just lay there, breathing her wonderful odor in. I swear the panties were almost still damp ... my cock was harder than I think it had ever been. I finally jerked off, her smell thick in my nostrils, and had an intense orgasm, way off the scale. I was so in love it hurt.
Life went on. After a few weaselly attempts to jerk me around Dale seemed to give up and move on. I think he somehow knew I was through with his crap. I changed the locks and finally got a new number and he seemed to be out of my life for good.
It was nice just to sit around the house of an evening and do nothing. To not have anything expected of me. I read, and watched TV, stuff like that. I even got a little bored and that was a surprisingly new experience to me. Rob was a help, and we even played some board games and he showed me some games on the computer. Although, to me, board games were much funner.
Rob seemed at loose ends too, now that he was done with Celeste. I don’t think they’d seen each other that much, well, I think that she’d very carefully controlled their time together ... but he seemed kind of aimless, at the moment. I understood, I felt that way, too.
That Friday night, just for something to do, we went and saw a movie. And old fashioned movie, or as Rob called it, an analog movie. It was fun, just going out was fun, and afterwards we went and had some chili dogs, although I was afraid I would regret that, later. I didn’t, it was worth it, and it was doubly fun to be doing things with him. I felt bad for all the time I’d missed out on, while Dale was pulling my strings. Rob has had it hard, I sometimes think, his dad has always and still totally ignores him, and then I take up with an ass like Dale. I promised myself again never to do that again. I liked our new closeness; I never wanted to lose it again. I knew he wouldn’t be young much longer. I wanted to savor each little moment of his youth. I wanted to suck youth from him like a vampire.
That Friday night we went and saw a movie together, the movie was long and boring but I knew she was enjoying it, so it was okay. I was proud to walk around downtown with her on my arm, and I wondered if people might think we were a couple. I know that sounds crazy. She looked good in a knee-length skirt and white blouse, she looked very cute, and way younger than her thirty four years. It could happen, people, I thought. It could happen.
Just so you know ... it’s not just me. My mom is beautiful, classically beautiful, as they say. Everywhere we go, even when I was a kid, I would notice men staring at her. And the brave ones would try and chat her up. When she was with Dale that didn’t happen much, I think just the look on his face scared them off. And of course, she was with someone. I saw that happen, time and time again last Friday night. Not the chatting up part, but the men staring at her. She’s a fox, no denying. She just damn good looking. And, of course, now that she’s free of Dale, her personality shows through, and she’s as good looking there as anywhere. She’s just a nice person, through and through.
That night, when we got back to the house, we sat around on the couch, and tried to watch TV, but nothing was really on. I finally got up and poured myself a glass of wine. I halfway offered some to Rob, but he refused, so I felt a little prouder of myself for raising him right. He did mumble something about it tasting nasty. It’s an acquired taste, I guess. I downed one glass, and poured myself a second. I’m not an alcoholic, but I do like my wine. Two glasses make me comfortably warm inside, but doesn’t really get me drunk. It got later and later, and I thought, what the hell, and had a third. I woke up with a start, and looked around. I was laying on the couch, my head in Rob’s lap. He was sound asleep, his whole body curved down towards me. I thought, what the heck, and just closed my eyes again.
In the morning I woke up as he was stirring around, and we both finally sat up, giggling at ourselves. I still felt kind of woozy, and I stumbled into my bathroom, and took a long hot shower. I went to the kitchen and made us some breakfast, and before long he came in, and we ate.
The day passed, and soon it was night, again. We played more games, and finally we ended up on the couch again. This time his head was finally in my lap, and soon he was asleep. He tossed at turned, and although I didn’t really want to spend another night on the couch, I figured I’d give him some time, at least. Finally he was turned facing me, his face literally pressed into my lap. I stroked his hair, and finally, about midnight, I woke him up and sent him to bed.
Saturday night was cool, and fun. We played games, and watched TV. Well, she watched TV, and I watched her. I was feeling a stronger and stronger attraction to her, I’m still not sure why ... maybe just coming off the Celeste thing, I dunno ... but it made me happy just to be with her.
My mom had gotten a little tipsy Friday night when she drank that wine, and she seemed to be a lot more free with herself. I wish she’d do that more often. It was sexy to me to sleep with her on the couch, I told myself later, I slept with my mom. Yeah. Sorry if that sounds dumb. It was cool, though. Saturday night we did about the same thing, but this time my head was in her lap. I pretended to be asleep, and I wrestled around a little until I was facing her, and I put my face right into her crotch and breathed her scent in until I thought my lungs would pop. I smelled, I could literally smell, the fainted hint of her pussy, I thought. I remembered the smell from her panties, and there it was again. I was turned on beyond all possible belief, laying there, thinking I am smelling her pussy. From the source. Not just a pair of old panties, from the source. It turned me on like nothing else had, and when she finally woke me up I pretended to wake up, and then I had to wait until she got up and re-arranged my hard dick so I could get up. I jacked off that night, thinking, shit, I smelled her pussy, I smelled her fucking pussy.
The first hint that I had that Rob was seeing me ... sexually ... came one day when he was at practice after school, and I did laundry. I took a fresh change of bedclothes up to his room, and yanked the old sheets off. When I pulled the sheets from inbetween his mattress, something fell out, and I bent down and picked them up. It was, of all things, a pair of my panties. At first I thought maybe they were Celeste’s, but when I looked closely at them, I was sure they were mine. They were my size, at least. My butt’s not that big, but I’m sure it’s bigger than little miss priss’s. And ... they were not clean panties. I was embarrassed to notice some white streaks in them ... and worst of all a little brown stain. Shit, I thought, and I don’t cuss very often. I wondered for a moment how a pair of my panties got inbetween his mattress, then I confronted the obvious. He had put them there. Shit again. What did this mean? Was he simply turned on by them? Did the fact that they were mine have anything to do with it? Were they just available? I shook my head. This bore some serious thought. I carefully replaced them, and then, after some thought, made his bed back with the old bedclothes. I placed the fresh linen on his bed when I was done. I didn’t want him to know at all that I’d found the panties. I didn’t want to embarrass him.
I thought about that all day, all week, in fact. I wondered again and again what those panties symbolized to him. Did they just mean ... pardon my french ... pussy to him? I knew that to guys it doesn’t always matter who ... did it matter to him? Was it just about a pussy smell to him, or was it about me? And ... and I must admit this thought caused me a little titillation ... what exactly did he do with them? Did he smell them? Did he rub himself with them? I hadn’t seen any stains on them ... that I probably hadn’t put there...
He’s a teenage boy, I told myself ... of course he ... masturbates. It’s just what boys do. I had two brothers, I actually know quite a bit about boys and their masturbatory habits. I used to watch my brothers out my bedroom window as they played with their little weenies, in the back yard. I’d even seen them let our dog lick them, at times. I remembered the spray of white liquid that came at the end of those sessions. It had taken me a long time to understand what I’d seen, all those years ago. Those were actually old familiar memories now, not even disgusting anymore. It was funny, almost.
I wondered, again and again, what Rob thought of when he masturbated. Masturbated, jacked off, jerked off, whatever. I wondered if it was me, time and time again. I had to admit, against my better judgment ... it turned me on a little, to think it might be me. I know I’m still in good shape. I know I’m ... whisper it ... sexy. I like being like that. It’s just how I am. Dale suppressed that, to a great extent, wanting all that for just himself. I feel like, now, I’m coming out of my shell. I’m getting back to being me. And the real me is ... face it ... kinda sexy. How was that affecting my teenage son? I wondered. I wondered if I should stifle myself. Well, maybe not, but I sure shouldn’t rub his face in it. That wouldn’t be fair to him, or me.
I don’t remember what night it was, I think Thursday ... it had been a long boring week. We were just laying around, my mom and I ... we had just made a run to the Burger Shack, and got some hamburgers and fries. We ate, sitting on the couch, and we were goofing around. I wrestled her down, and tickled her, loving the feeling of her soft body beneath my hands. I wondered if she’d ever know how much I loved her, how much she turned me on. Probably not, I just felt like I didn’t have the nerve. I felt like it would screw our relationship up totally. Those things just never worked out. But I wanted to tell her more than anything in the world.
We ended up with her on the floor, and me dragging her by one foot across the rug. Our hamburgers had toothpicks in them when we got home, and at some point she’d dropped hers on the floor. I know it wasn’t mine because I’d already used mine for a toothpick. Hers had gone on the floor. I dragged her across it, and it poked her, hard, in the butt. I could tell by the look on her face that something was wrong, and she put her hand back there, and when she withdrew it there was blood on it.
“Something poked me,” she said, “and I think it’s still in me.”
She touched it again, and got more blood. About that time I noticed half the toothpick, on the floor.
“I bet it was that,” I said. “The other half is probably still in you.”
“Oh, poop,” she said, holding her hand on her butt.
“Let me look at it,” I said, concerned for her, but also hopeful.
“Rob ... it’s my ... bottom...” she said, acting embarrassed.
“Mom ... you might have a toothpick in you ... let me look, at least. Here, sit across my lap.”
I sat down on the couch, my knees out. I indicated for her to lay down. She seemed reticent.
“Rob ... let’s just go to the ... minor emergency place ... they’ll know what to do...”
“Mom, let me look. It might be nothing, or it might be serious. But let me look first. We’re both adults...”
Yes, I thought, we’re both adults, but it’s a foxy female ass I might get to see. I’ll stress again, that, yes, I was concerned for her. I knew she was still hurting.
She finally slowly lay across my knees, her body halfway on the couch. I looked down at her beautiful ass. She was wearing a pair of loose white shorts, and they were already streaked with blood. I lifted the leghole where the stain was, and immediately saw it. It had stuck right through her shorts, and into her left buttock. I could literally see it, beneath the skin. I felt bad about the whole thing, I felt like it was my fault, since I had dragged her.
“Mom,” I said. “It’s still in you. A little is sticking out, and I could probably get it with the tweezers, if you’re tough enough. Or, we can go to the clinic.”
She carefully got up. I knew she was hurting, just from the way she moved.
“Well,” she finally said. “Whatever you think. If you’re willing I’m willing.”
Hell yeah, I thought, I’m willing. If I get to see your ass, I’m willing. I went to the little bathroom in the hall, and dampened a washrag, and found a good pair of tweezers. When I returned, she was still standing by the couch, and seemed kind of indecisive.
“It’s up to you,” I said. “I’ll be glad to try, but I don’t want to hurt you further. I’ll get the car if you wish to go.”
“Well,” she said again. “I don’t really want to have to sit on it. Let’s try, at least...”
“Okay,” I said, and sat, again. She started to lay down across me, but I stopped her.
“Mom,” I said. “Your shorts ... drop them, at least.”
She did stop, at that.
“Rob...” she finally said, “Are you sure...”
“Mom, it’s up to you. But it will be pretty difficult, if you don’t. And you’ll still have undies on.”
I wondered right then if she was wearing underwear. That thought did turn me on, and I felt something stirring in my pants. Oh shit, I thought, and I’m fixing to have her lay in my lap.
“I guess...” she said distantly, and I saw her slide the shorts down her leg and step out of them. She was wearing panties, of course, sexy pink panties ... damn, I thought, as she turned and steadied herself against my shoulder ... those panties are damn near a thong ... getting to the toothpick would be no problem, in those...
My dick was really getting hard, now, seeing my mom in a thong. Damn. She finally got all situated on my lap, and I took the washrag and carefully wiped all around the wound. I’m washing my mom’s butt, I told myself, in case I hadn’t got the message. But my dick told me I’d gotten it. I carefully placed my hands on her ass, getting the tweezers ready. It was enough, just to touch her there. It was more than enough.
Enough of the toothpick was sticking out that I was able to easily grab it with the tweezers and pull it out. She yelped, and I apologized, and she apologized for making me apologize. I just sat there, and held the washrag on the little hole in her ass, trying to get the bleeding to stop. We talked, about inconsequential things. I tried and tried to see if I could tell where her asshole was, but the panties weren’t that transparent. Damn. I checked the wound. Still bleeding a bit. Well, just have to sit here a while longer, and hold a washrag on my mom’s ass. I wondered if she could feel my erection, it didn’t feel like it was pressing against her ... that much ... in a way, I wanted her to feel it, a little at least. I wanted her to know I was human, or something. All that crap I said earlier, about not wanting to screw up our relationship, I still felt that, but in a way, I wanted her to at least know she turned me on a little. At least a little.
That whole toothpick thing was embarrassing. And, it hurt like heck. And what I’d said earlier, about not wanting to rub his face in it ... a day later, I’m across his knees, with my butt right in his face. And on a day I’d picked, for some crazy reason, to wear a thong. Jeezus. I was glad he got the toothpick out, I would hate to have some doctor at a clinic have to do that ... and then I thought, yeah, it’s much better that your hyper-hormonal teenage son put his hands on your bottom that some middle-aged stranger. Doofus. I had been intensely aware of his fingers on me, on my bare bottom ... and then, of all things, I was aware of something poking me, on my side ... down there ... oh my gawd, I thought, he’s having an erection. Jeezus again. It was almost too much, and I almost started laughing. Funny how things work out. I just lay there, perched atop his erection, while he held a washrag on my bleeding bottom. What a day.
Getting to see ninety percent of my mom’s ass was just about too much for me. She had a perfect ass, you’d never believe it was thirty-four years old if you saw it. It was tight and firm and didn’t have a wrinkle or a bit of cellulite on it. I know it was firm because I pressed my hands into it, when I got the splinter out. I leaned way down to look, like I needed to get that close, and breathed in her scent again, just in love. I swear I could almost smell her asshole, a sweaty smell with a hint of shit, and it turned me on so much I almost came, right there. I know my dick was harder than steel, and I wondered then, and wonder now, if she felt it poking into her. I don’t think it poked that much, the way she was laying, but I could feel her a little, on the end of it. I wanted her to feel it, in a way, like I said, I wanted her to know she turned me on.
Anyway, I finally put a cotton ball and a band-aid on it, and she lay on the couch for a while, on her stomach with her head in my lap. She still had her shorts off, and as she watched TV I watched her fabulous ass, barely an arm’s distance away. I was surprised she hadn’t put her shorts back on, but pleased. Nothing could please me more. Well, maybe getting to sink my fingers or face into it...
I probably should have put my shorts back on, but for several reasons, I didn’t. I wanted the bleeding to stop, and he’d have to check it before I went to bed. And, the worst reason ... I knew I was exciting him, and, crazy as it sounds, I wanted to give him that. I wanted to make him happy. If he wanted to look, he could look. I knew that was as far as we could go, but I didn’t fault him for that. I know that’s evil, or wicked or whatever, but I wanted to give him a little pleasure. I just never dreamed where it would lead to. Not at that stage.
When I finally went to bed that night, all I could think of was my mom’s beautiful ass. And how much I wanted to squeeze it and kiss it and lick it. I was consumed with it. I wasted no time getting my dick out, and pumping away as I thought and dreamed of her. I hoped to get to see it again tomorrow, when I checked the wound. She’d had me check it before we went to bed, and although I’d spent the last two hours staring at her nearly-bare ass, I still loved it. I replaced the band-aid, and we went to bed. Where I tossed and turned and jerked off and almost violently ejaculated, thinking of her, wondering if she knew what I was doing. How could I not? How could she not know? I’m a guy. It’s just what we do.
The next day was a little more laid back. Before I went to work I let Rob check my butt, and this time I wore a respectable pair of panties. It still felt weird to feel him lift them up and peer beneath them, and change the band-aid. I wondered what he’d done last night after he went to bed, after he stared at my butt all evening ... I could see him sometimes out of the corner of my eye, and I knew he stared at it. And hell, why not, I know I have a cute one. I know I should feel bad about thinking like this, but it just seemed ... kinda ... I don’t know, kind of natural. I knew he loved me, and I loved him. I wonder now if it was fall-out from the Dale thing ... a rebound, or something. I don’t know. Looking back, it just seems like a progression of events that pressed us together ... although I know that some of them he made happen, and, I have to admit ... some I made or let happen. I should feel way worse than I do...
The next week passed normally, nothing really outstanding happened, school sucked, and Celeste ignored me, which suited me just fine. My mom’s ass healed nicely, and didn’t scar. Finally, it was Friday night. She went out to eat with some ladies that she worked with, and I cruised the strip with Randy Worthington and his sister. His sister likes me, but she’s a big old ugly thing, I should feel bad for saying that, but I can’t imagine kissing her. Or anything. I finally had them drop me by the house, and my Mom was home. We talked a bit, and finally settled in front of the TV. It was still pretty early in the evening, at least. I felt like anything could happen.
My mom finally got up and poured herself a glass of wine, and that pleased me. I liked the way she got loose and clingy when she drank. I was pleased, when less than an hour later, she had another. When she started on her third, I thought, cool, maybe I’ll get somewhere, tonight. I know I should feel bad for thinking like that, but I don’t. Just to lay on the couch with her and hold her would be enough. I knew I’d probably get that, at least.