Tag, You'Re It

by

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Incest, Mother, Son, First, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Sex Toys, Squirting, Spitting, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, .

Desc: Incest Sex Story: A childhood game between a son and his mothers turns into something a bit more intimate than that.

It was a stupid, stupid, and dumbass thing to do. But I did it anyway. And I spent the better part of the rest of the night telling myself just that. I mean come morning, there was no way I was going to be able to explain it, surely she'd know ... figure it out. And then, there'd be hell to pay.

Not like we both hadn't been paying it already.

My father had left two years prior. He'd gotten a fairly substantial promotion, and with that an enormous pay increase, a brand new office to go along with the title, not to mention a sweet sexy administrative assistant they're now called, to wait on him hand and foot ... oh, and in his case, add cock to that list of duties too. Don't get me wrong, he'd worked long and hard for that, but once he'd reached his new glorified status, for whatever reason, mom was no longer worthy of his new suddenly sexy self.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he was banging the new assistant, nor did he deny it (somewhat to his credit either) after mom confronted him about it. But ... it didn't end either, though their marriage soon after did.

The divorce wasn't all that messy. Mom got a reasonable amount of money from him to live on, though she also had a fairly decent job herself. At least one in which for a time she could lose herself in, which she did. And, she was still able to provide reasonably well for the two of us as I finished out my final year of high school before deciding which university it was I wanted to attend. The one thing I'd already decided was to take off the summer, relax, see the sights, enjoy myself and have a little fun before knuckling down and hitting the books again. Something my mother was delighted to hear, as I'd be staying with her for a while yet, before moving out and living on campus as was my intent.

I guess it was the thought of her being really alone that began to get to her. And though she hid it for the most part well enough, there were times I could hear her crying in her bedroom late at night. That was followed with her having a bit more wine in the evening that I'd seen her normally consume, and as I was later to learn, with her taking sleeping pills on top of that.

After the divorce, friends and coworkers tried to fix her up with dates. She went on two in the beginning, each one a total disaster. Needless to say, she wasn't too enthusiastic about going out or meeting anyone else again after that. And not that mom wasn't attractive, she most certainly was. She was only then thirty-nine, not even forty yet. Dad was ten years her senior, and now, here he was messing around with a woman half his age, barely older than I was at eighteen. But like I said, I thought mom was attractive looking, and she was my own fucking mother for hells sakes! She was in reasonably nice shape, sure ... she didn't have the body of a twenty something year old anymore, but I'd seen the looks she was given whenever we went out to do any shopping, or on a handful of times, actually enjoying an evening out together over dinner. She got looks, and I looked at her appraising her myself whenever she did, though at the time I didn't realize I was looking at her the way that I was. Nor did I realize I was now starting to feel a tiny bit jealous of it when guys did. It was neither a thought nor an emotion I had ever had to consider before, so when I first had them, I had no idea what they were ... or why I was even having them to be perfectly honest about it.

Everyone talks about how they've stumbled into their parents dressing, or rather undressing by accident. Maybe I did when I was younger, but the truth was, if I had, I didn't honestly recall or remember it. Obviously, that memory or image wasn't one important enough for my recall files to be locked away for future perusal. But that all changed after I began to look at my mother in a different light, especially when I came home one night quite unexpectedly.

I worked a part time job, not that I really needed the money. Mom saw to it that I had whatever I needed, if and when I really needed it. The job was for nothing more than some self spending money (mainly for dates) though I had just recently broken up with my own long-time girlfriend over what else? Sex. We'd been dating for almost the entire time in high school and hadn't done diddlysquat. Now that we'd graduated, I figured we'd move forward a little faster than we had, a few hand jobs here and there, and some heavy petting was evidently as far as it was going to go in the foreseeable future. When I informed Penny I was going to eventually be attending a university a slight distance away, her dreams of marriage, raising an immediate family came to a screeching halt. And with that, so did the amount of intimacy we'd been having up until then. Saving herself for marriage (as she put it) wasn't in my immediate future, and with that, the relationship simply came to an end.

Needless to say, I was climbing a few walls myself, so the friction at home wasn't exactly conducive to making things any easier on mother either. I had gone into work as planned, but upon arriving, was asked by another friend of mine who I worked with if I was willing to trade him the night off as he had a major date planned for Friday. Since I didn't, nor would have anytime soon, I agreed to trade him, and thus found myself having the night off unexpectedly, going in to work for him the following night instead.

I wasn't at all surprised to see mom's car in the driveway of course when I got home, though I also knew she wasn't expecting me to be there when she did. Which meant that no doubt she wouldn't be worried about fixing dinner, and had no doubt already snacked on something, along with several glasses of wine by now. Often whenever she did that, as she'd been doing, she'd drink just enough wine to get herself a bit tipsy, though sleepier, and crawl up into bed considerably earlier than usual if I wasn't going to be around.

I didn't exactly make a whole lot of noise when I came in, but I didn't take my shoes off or try and walk around quietly either. There was no noise coming from the TV, so I knew she'd most likely already gone upstairs to bed, even though it wasn't 8:00 in the evening yet by the time I had gotten home.

Her bedroom was at the opposite end of the hallway from mine, which I would have to pass by at the top of the landing. I figured to stop, check in on her, and then go and change clothes and get into something comfy for the night. After that, I'd fix a sandwich, pop myself down in front of the TV, and with luck, if she was indeed sleeping, switch over to an adult station, watch some soft porn, stroke myself off a nice one, and head on up to bed myself afterwards.

As I reached the top of the stairs I noticed two things. One, there was still light coming from underneath the door in her bedroom, which meant she was very likely still up. It was possible she was reading, as she loved a good book, but it had been a hell of a long time since she had. Two, the door wasn't entirely closed. It didn't stand wide open, but it had a good six inch gap in it, which immediately told me that she very likely was sitting there reading, sort of listening for any sounds coming downstairs. And though I had told her I had to work, it was just as likely possible she either didn't remember that, or had forgotten, and was perhaps expecting to hear me come home soon. Either way, I figured to peek in on her before heading down the hall to my own room. With luck, she'd be asleep already, and I'd simply close her door and proceed on with my own plans. If she wasn't, well ... then I'd have to play things by ear and see how the rest of the evening went. With luck, I'd eventually still get that stroke off in one way or the other.

Normally I would have just barged right in, especially as her door was partially open, and told her I was home. And as I prepared to do just that, I suddenly checked up, hearing something strangely unfamiliar, but at the same time, all too familiar as I stood there thinking about it.

A few months back I had walked in on my mom and a friend of hers, Sharon, as they sat at the kitchen table over coffee. This was during the time when she, along with a few others was either trying to set mom up with someone, or at the very least get her out of the house. The weird thing was the looks on their faces when I unexpectedly walked into the kitchen, not to mention the sudden mad dash to stash away whatever it was my mother had been holding in her hand at the time. I hadn't seen anything, but it was obvious to me whatever it was, it had embarrassed the two of them tremendously. They both sat there red faced, looking guilty as hell, something I wasn't used to seeing my mother look like, or Sharon for that matter. Sharon was by all accounts rather wild in her own right, I'd overheard enough conversations which had convinced me of that, so seeing the two of them pretending to be doing something other than what they had been, I found quite amusing.

Pretending I hadn't seen or suspected a thing, I soon grabbed some cookies and milk and headed off to watch TV. Later that night after she'd reluctantly gone out on one of her two disastrous dates, I did what any bored curious kid would do. I went through her things. And it's not like she had some secret hidden away wall panel, or even a safe to lock things in. She didn't. For some oddball reason, women tend to think they can hide things in their panty drawer, like that is some sort of natural ward against kids rummaging through things. As though we'll all freak out at seeing our moms bras and panties and such. Truth was, I knew whatever it was she was trying to conceal from me earlier would no doubt be hidden away beneath all that silk and lace, which it was.

.... There is more of this story ...

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