Taboo: a Memoir - the Book - Cover

Taboo: a Memoir - the Book

Copyright© 2010 by Tom Hathaway

Chapter 8

True Story Sex Story: Chapter 8 - Introduction and the First three chapters. How it all began between mom and myself. A true story of mother / son incest that lasted 35 years. A unique drama that includes a justifiable homicide of the father.

Caution: This True Story Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Romantic   Reluctant   Heterosexual   True Story   Incest   Mother   Son   Oral Sex  

"Goddamnit, I hate prisons ... what they do to people," Diana said when she closed the door. She lowered her head and put her hand to her forehead. "He used to be a bright guy ... flaky but sweet. Now he's ... What a waste."

Mom and I walked into the living room and she collapsed onto the couch, her face contorted with sadness. I sat down beside her and held her hand while she blurted out her anger. "I've seen it happen so many times. A guy with some potential in life ... makes a mistake, messes up ... goes into that system ... and comes out ruined. Now I just want to keep people out of prison. That's what my job really is. I don't even care if they're guilty anymore. I just want to keep them out of those terrible places ... so they don't get more screwed up than they already are."

"Did he go into your room last night?" I hated myself for asking but couldn't help it.

She stared at me like she couldn't believe what was on my mind. "No! And if he did, I could handle it."

I could feel my eyes narrowing and my forehead furrowing. "What do you mean, handle it? Did you want him to?"

"Tommy, what's got into you? Come off it." Her irritated expression turned worried as her eyes probed me. "I feel sorry for Jacquot, for what happened to him ... for what he turned into. But I don't want him. He's a turn-off to me. If he'd come into my room, I would've kicked him out. That's how I would've handled it."

"Oh ... OK." I felt better and a little foolish for getting so upset. Dad isn't a threat, I told myself.

A couple of days later, though, he called and convinced mom to go out to dinner, just the two of them, "to talk about old times." I stayed home and ate canned enchiladas while they went to our favorite Mexican restaurant. At least they could've picked some other place. I was in a rage, imagining them kissing over sangria and going back to his pad and doing all sorts of unspeakable acts. I felt unwanted and inadequate—how could I compete with him? I was just a kid. Part of me knew I was having an irrational fit, but I couldn't get out of it. Because of our double relationship, all the passions between us were magnified. Love was squared, but so were jealousy and possessiveness.

I thought about going out with a girl to get even with her, but the idea of a girl—all that nervous, teenage inhibition—seemed ridiculous. I'd been spoiled for girls by having the real thing.

I was slumped sullenly on the couch watching Laugh In when Diana came back. I refused to look at her. She sat on the edge of the couch and took my hand. "What happened?" I managed to blurt.

"Nothing happened. We just talked."

"Did you go back to his place?"

"No, of course not." She shook her head. "You're really in trouble over this, aren't you?"

My jaws were clenched so tight I couldn't talk.

"God, you're such a Scorpio." She shook me by the shoulders and gave me an embracing look that filled me with reassurance; I felt the fear melt from my face. "Now let's just sit here a minute and be quiet," she said.

In the silence I could hear how loudly I was breathing. As a current of calm ran from her hand into mine, my breath slowed and fell into sync with hers. We just sat there, each enjoying the presence of the other. The enjoyment grew more physical as we felt this warm, pulsing closeness, and our breaths gradually grew faster, staying in sync. Finally she squeezed my hand and stood up and I wordlessly followed her into her bedroom.

Mom took both my hands in hers. "Look at me," she said.

Framed by straight auburn hair, her oval face was unsmiling but calm, full of love. Her smooth skin seemed to glow from within. The corners of her golden brown eyes were crinkled. Tiny lines creased the edges of her full lips. "Touch your mother's face."

I brought my fingers to her cheek and felt its silky warmth.

"Kiss my lips."

As I came closer, her face seemed to expand to fill my vision; my eyes absorbed her as I pressed my lips into hers. What had been a dull dark void inside me now sparked with light and chimed.

"These lips are only for you. No one else kisses them." As she spoke, I could smell sangria and salsa. I kissed her again.

She stepped back. "Tommy, look at me here." She pushed her chest forward and I feasted my eyes on the bulges in her batik blouse. "Now unbutton this."

My fingers trembled as they reached towards her and undid the wooden buttons. Each one revealed more of her beauty: swelling décolletage, deep cleft of cleavage, lacy white bra filled to overflowing, ribs set far under these gracefully cantilevered mounds, friendly tummy with its dimpled middle.

"Take off my blouse."

I eased her arms out of it, tossed it away, and reached immediately, greedily for her tits.

Diana crossed her arms over them. "Not until I tell you."

I lowered my hands obediently.

"Kiss me here." She touched the little hollow at the base of her neck.

I did, imagining her thyroid gland humming beneath my lips, keeping her in tune.

"No one else has ever kissed me there. No one besides you ever will. It's all yours. Now here ... kiss me." She touched the tops of her breasts where they canyoned down into her bra.

"This spot's just for you now. No one else kisses me there, just you." She cupped her hands under her bra. "Now take this off. I don't like it."

I reached behind and eagerly unhooked the clasp—I'd gotten good at that. The bra fell away and her tits spread out to take charge of her topside, fresh and sassy, twinkling up at me, nipples already firm. Hi there, they seemed to say. We need a kiss.

I dipped my head and started for them, but mom cupped her palms over them. "Not yet. First you need to know something." She raised my chin with her fingers until our eyes met. "These are only for you. No one else gets to suck them." She lifted them with her hands, offering them to me as a bountiful gift. "Here. Take them."

I held one in each hand, loving their substantial heft and overflowing luxury. As I kissed one, the other began piping, Me me me! I went from one to the other, sucking and smiling, alternating between two heavens where worry was unknown.

"Take off your mother's pants."

I left her bosom, sorry to be parting but hungry for her other treats, and got down on my knees before her.

"But first kiss her tummy."

Pressing my cheek and ear to hug her midriff, I heard dinner gurgling under her padding. I kissed in a circle around the soft cushion of her stomach, then homed in on her belly button, licking it and teasing it with my tongue.

"Tickles," she said with a shiver.

I stopped licking and stared into her knotted omphalos, sensing the great chain of navels leading from womb to womb back to the first mother, wishing my phallus was long enough to reach all the way along it back to Eve. The first family must've been incestuous or else none of us would be here.

"My tummy is just for you to play with. Now pull down my pants."

I unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans, revealing a slice of white abdomen. I used to be inside there, I thought, all cuddled up in her. As I kissed down to her pink panties, I inhaled her piscine scent and began panting. I lowered the blue denim over her round bottom and could see the black pubic shadow under the lace of her panties. I pressed my lips worshipfully against the mound, feeling its warmth and breathing its aroma deeply. Diana kicked off her Mexican sandals. Pulling the pants further down, I uncovered her strong, thick thighs and nipped them gently with my teeth while nuzzling my head into her crotch. At her knees I sucked the skin and thanked the inner bones and cartilage for their good work. I licked her curved calves and narrow ankles, and she stepped out of her jeans. Staring back up the long columns of her legs, I saw an oval of moisture on the pink panties.

"These legs love to wrap around you ... and nobody else." She patted my head. "Now make me naked ... then take me naked."

I slid the damp undies down in back and stroked her plump buns, lifted them, squeezed them, kissed them. The scent of her musk made me pant faster; my dick was so hard it hurt. I pulled the silk away from her center, uncovering its black kinky curls, fat cheeks, and wet protruding lips that chirped a command: Adore me!

With a long swipe I got rid of the underpants. Gasping, I pressed my lips to the lips of her cunt and licked their slick fuchsia ruffles. Yes, I do! My nose prodded through her bush, craving more of her sex smell. From behind, my hand slid into her groin, fingers opening her passageway.

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