Pivotal Points
Chapter 1

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, Humor, Incest, Mother, Son, Oral Sex, Slow,

Desc: Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Pivotal Points (©) is a fictional story containing graphic descriptions of an incestuous relationship between a mother and her son. Sexually active characters are at least eighteen years of age. A mother is concerned about how her son is wasting his life and sets about bringing a change in his attitude.

My son went through a pretty bad patch in his early teens – the usual thing, on the fringes of a territory gang, hanging around with a couple of brothers from one of the local problem families, and getting into mischief. That was fine, boys have to rebel but when the community police brought him back home two or three times I got worried about the way he was heading. Especially as they told me he'd been caught smoking marijuana and I had caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath a couple of times. His father hadn't been around since he was a toddler so there was only me to take matters in hand.

At the very least, I thought, I needed to get him off the streets and away from the bad company, somehow. Give him a new interest but what? After some thought I decided to take him along to my amateur dramatic society. He whinged all the way there and sulked at the back of the hall the first couple of times. Until, that is, our only available young man broke his leg showing off to his girlfriend. As you can imagine, we don't get many members his age and we were in the early stages of rehearsing a new production so my Rob was asked to fill in.

That changed his attitude, he was soon hooked. His wasn't a big speaking part but he had lots of entrances as a page boy in a costume comedy. His page boy wasn't supposed to be a comic part but when he accidentally tripped on his feet on one entrance and made a miraculous recovery, preserving his silver tray's contents, which he calmly continued to serve to his mistress, Maggie, our director, saw the potential immediately.

Clapping her hands loudly to stop the action, she called, "Robbie, darling," he was embarrassed when she called him by that name but she continued, oblivious to his discomfort, "Can you do that again? You know, the trip and so on..." Rob agreed to try so Maggie instructed, "Places everyone, we'll take it from, 'Upon my honour... '"

Rob went 'off stage' and perfectly on cue he rescued himself from another spectacular trip. Thereafter Maggie had him tripping and falling all over the place with almost every entrance and he'd always come up bouncing and continued with whatever he was doing as if nothing had happened.

With just that, Maggie changed the whole tenor of the play. And the cast, too, as everybody got involved more enthusiastically. Rob just loved all the attention he got and became a dedicated member of the Pinchley Amateur Dramatic Society. He didn't hang around with the other guys anymore and that sullen scowl which he habitually wore was often replaced with a happy grin, especially on rehearsal nights.

He threw himself into his rôle as an inept and clumsy page boy – literally threw himself into it with his tumbles. After almost every session I found myself bathing his little cuts, scrapes and bruises but he never complained and just took the same bumps next time.

Eventually the play came together and we were making our final preparations. Then at the costume fitting the poop hit the fan. Rob hadn't realised what page boys wore. The ornate wig, heavily buckled shoes, braided gold tunic and gold silk tights freaked him out. There was no way he was going to wear that outfit, he shouted, and stalked out. I told Maggie to leave it to me and when we had finished I took his costume home with me.

He was on his bed watching something on TV when I got back. I switched the set off and stood in front of it, hands on hips and legs slightly apart. "Get out the way," he said sullenly, making a grab for the remote in my hand.

"Shut up and sit down!" I pushed him back onto the bed. "You've been rehearsing that page boy character for over two months now and you're good. Very good. So tell me, Mr Bloody Page Boy, how did you expect to dress? Levis and a Beckham shirt?" He just sat there sulking. "Well?" I demanded, "What did you expect?"

He shrugged and for long seconds said nothing then the whinge came back to his voice, "I can't wear that costume. They'd laugh me off the estate."

"Who would laugh you off the estate?" I was getting more than a little annoyed. "Those shit-for-brains Doug and Phil? They're going one way in life – the local jail – and that's just where you'll end up if you don't stop worrying about what they think or don't think. How the hell will they see you anyway? Can you see those so-called mates of yours turning up for the Lower Pinchley Amateur Dramatic Society's production of 'Maid of Dishonour'?

"Look," I said with an exasperated sigh, "Out there with them you've got no life. Look at them – their mother's messed up her body and head on drugs, she'll screw with anyone who will buy her next fix," including her sons, I thought disdainfully. "She wears a tag and is barred from half the stores in Pinchley for shoplifting. Phil has an ASBO out on him and Doug's heading that way. Are their brothers in jail or out on parole at present?"

I got on my knees in front of him and took hold of his hands. "Rob, is that what you want from life? Living on the social and never making ends meet? Sharing a doss house with half a dozen crack heads? Frazzle your brains with the stuff they use? Drink until you slip on your own vomit and smash your non-existent brains out?"

I paused to calm myself down. "At PADS I've seen a change in you, son. You've taken to it like a duck to water, you're happy there. I like the new Rob, he's kinda nice to have around." I smiled and received just a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth in return. "I don't know if you are good enough to be a professional actor although you might at least think of the stage as a career. But an actor wears the costumes the character calls for!"

Again I paused to catch my thoughts. "Look, son, as we get older we can sometimes look back on our lives and recognise some turning points. Like the day I met your Dad, for instance. If I had decided to stay at home and wash my hair one night, as I had planned, I would never have met him and you would never have been born.

"We don't usually recognise the moments when they come so it's often only in retrospect we can see those pivotal points in our lives. You're at just such a point now. You can hang around out there on the estate, bunk off school and throw your life away on drink and drugs and crime, finish up having your arse reamed out in prison or you can try on that page boy suit and decide to make something of your life." I placed the offending garments on his bed and said, "The choice is yours, Rob. I can't force you either way." Squeezing his hands once again, I stood and left the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

With some despair, I heard the TV come back to life and my heart was heavy as I returned to my kitchen and made myself a pot of tea, brushing the tears from my eyes. It was about fifteen minutes later I heard a call from upstairs, "Mum, can you help me?"

I returned to Rob's bedroom and saw him struggling with his gold uniform. "What's the problem?" I asked with a lift to my spirits.

"It's these buttons at the back, I just can't get to them." He turned and showed me the offending fastenings and it didn't take me long to sort the problem out. The tights fit him like a glove so I helped him on with the elaborately braided tunic, pulled everything straight and stood back to look at him.

"Well, it fits perfectly! Now there's just the wig." I pinned it on his head then said, "Come and have a look." I took him into my bedroom and stood him in front of the full length mirror.

For a couple of silent minutes he posed, giggling a little as he turned this way and that to get a better look, tugging at the hems to smooth out the wrinkles. Eventually he told me he thought he could wear it for the play. I sent up silent prayers of thankful relief to any god who cared to listen then said, "Now we have to see if you can still tumble about in those tight pants." He walked back towards his bedroom door, took a deliberate trip, bounced off the door frame and with a quick roll he was back on his feet with a big grin on his face.

"Yep," he announced, "I reckon I can handle that!" His face turned serious as he turned and gave me a hug. "And thanks, Mum," he whispered in my ear giving me a peck on the cheek.

Opening night. The church hall echoed to the scraping of the wooden chairs as the audience started to take their places and slowly the seats filled up. Just a couple of minutes after 7:30 the hall lights were dimmed down and the bright stage lights illuminated the countess perched on an ornate sofa. The hum from the audience died down and the Bishop entered, stage left...

Two hours later the church hall resounded to generous applause and cheers as the whole cast lined up to take a bow. Maggie came on and took her share of the tributes and it was she who singled out Rob and pulled him forward to the increased whistles, clapping and stamping feet from the audience. Ever willing to play up to this attention, he took a deep bow and fell flat on his face, sending the audience into further rapturous cheers.

That was five years ago. Rob had dropped his old friends in time – Doug and Phil were now detained 'At Her Majesty's Pleasure' for the brutal murder of a kid who owed them drugs money but Rob had settled down at school and worked hard for his A levels. His social life changed and he found that girls were interesting: he even dated Julienne at PADS for a while but nothing much came of it and they were still good friends. In September he would be taking up his place at RADA with a life in the theatre ahead of him and was now a leading member of the Pinchley ADS.

The indefatigable Maggie had chosen for our next production a bedroom farce; Rob's last play before starting at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. Maggie cast me as a middle-aged socialite frustrated in her efforts to seduce a handsome student – to be played by Rob. The last act is where she traps her youth in the bedroom and she prances around in her underwear for most of the act. She finally manages to bed her student and the play ends with them kissing and sliding under the bedclothes. The whole bedroom scene is supposed to be an hilarious frolic.

My son and I had developed a habit of rehearsing our lines at home so we would often be found chasing each other round the kitchen table as we worked through the hectic scenes and would often collapse in fits of giggles.

Shortly before the dress rehearsal I went shopping for my own costume. I shopped carefully and finished up with a solid black corset which hugged my generous figure (losing me a couple of inches I could afford) and pushed my boobs up to display a deep cleavage while preserving my public 'decency'. Fishnet tights and four-inch heels completed my costume and, checking myself in the mirror in my bedroom, I looked like a vamp.

Rob's eyes popped out of his head when he first saw me in costume and he fluffed his lines all evening, something he never did. It was the same next rehearsal: he was just a bundle of nerves whenever I was dressed in my undies. Back home I decided to tackle him head on and discover what was the trouble. "You're just too sexy," was all I could get out of him.

That pulled me up short. Me, too sexy? Then it began to dawn on me that seeing his mother in her underwear and jumping in and out of bed with her was putting an enormous strain on a healthy – and randy – youth. I needed to get him comfortable seeing me like that so I spent the whole of the next weekend dressed in nothing but my costume as I worked through my chores.

By Sunday evening he seemed much more relaxed around me, even dressed as I was so I suggested we have another practice session. As we exchanged our final kiss and disappeared under my bedclothes he groaned, "Oh, Mum," and he placed his hand on my breast and groped. I was shocked rigid for a couple of seconds, conscious of his bulge pressing into my thigh.

I jumped out of bed, opened the door and pointed. "Out!" I said. "Now!" I shouted, "Get out!" He hung his head and started picking up the clothes that had been scattered in our chase around the bed but I screamed at him to leave them and just get out. Still not looking at me he slunk out the room. I slammed the door behind him then lay on my bed seething with anger. But my body still remembered where he had touched my breast and thigh.

When I had calmed down I got to thinking about the situation. He was a very healthy eighteen-year old boy/man with testosterone going crazy in his blood and he was being asked to cavort in and out of bed with what he had already described as a 'sexy' woman in her underwear. And all this weekend I'd been walking around in that underwear. To get him relaxed with the sight, had been my intention and then, with full 20/20 vision in hindsight, I realised he thought it had been a come-on. Probably that teasing romp in the bedroom rehearsal had been the last straw. I couldn't be angry with him for that, could I?

At the breakfast table next morning my son was clearly as embarrassed as I felt then finally he said in a quiet voice, "Sorry, Mum."

"No, Rob. It is I who should apologise to you. I've been running around in that corset all weekend so there would be nothing unusual when you saw me like that in the play, at least that's the way I saw it. To me it's just another costume in just another play. I guess maybe you saw it different. I'm sorry, son, I never meant to tease you, it'll never happen again. Can we just put last night behind us, please?"

"If you like, Mum. But you're still sexy."

"Thanks, and this old girl really means thanks, I don't get too many compliments these days. But I am your mother and you are my son. And we have a play to put on and it's far too late for either of us to pull out. We have a week of solid rehearsals – and you know Maggie's not happy with that final scene – then another week of performance. We've got to get through that as actors. You won't get to bed every woman you bed on the stage. Not with professionals, and that's what we've got to be.

"Any touch, kiss or caress in the play is between Cynthia Smythe and Tony Ladbrooke. Can we keep it that way?"

"I guess we'll have to, Cynthia." He grinned at the use of my character's name. "But you're much nicer than Cynthia – god, isn't she the pretentious, selfish cow?"

"Can't argue with that." I ruffled his hair, knowing he would protest playfully.

"Gerroff," he pushed my hand away. "Leave me alone. Go on, you're late for work."

We were good friends again as we walked to the church hall that evening. Maggie told us to get ready for the final scene but to wrap up as she wanted to work for a while on the third scene and we weren't in that. Then it was our turn and we just couldn't satisfy her right from the off. Maggie had us trying different body positions, different movements but still she wasn't happy.

"Stop, stop, stop," she called wearily. "Cynthia, you been chasing Tony for days, plotting and scheming to get him into your bedroom. Now your latest trophy is on your hook and you're a predator toying with its prey and you've got the hots for him, not like a mother hen clucking over her chick.

"Tony, you're in the bedroom of a sexy, sophisticated woman. She's not a shop mannequin, she's real hot flesh and she's giving you the come-on and you're a horny as hell virgin. But you're also timid and a bit overwhelmed. See how it goes.

"OK, Cynthia, put your blouse back on and we'll take it from there. Let's go..." she clapped her hands imperiously.

I replaced my blouse for the umpteenth time, nodded to my son and tried to get into the mind of my character. I stood tall, with my legs slightly apart aggressively. Thrusting my hips forward I said my lines, "Thank you so much Tony. You've been very sweet."

"You're welcome, Mrs Smythe. Anytime." But the shy young man in front of me seemed to wilt in my gaze as I advanced towards him slowly, deliberately opening the four buttons on my blouse.

"How can I thank you?" I allowed the blouse to float off my shoulders and down my arms, catching it in one hand just before it fell away. I smiled at him thinly. "I'll just have to find some way." I stepped up close to my trophy and looped the blouse round his neck, catching the loose end.

"I er think er I should go now Mrs Smythe," he stuttered as I pulled his reluctant body forward a couple of steps.

"Please, call me Cynthia. I mean we're friends now, Tony. You can hold me, darling." I made it sound almost like an order. I pulled him closer then held him almost at arms length as I pushed my bosom out towards him.

"Are we friends Mrs er Cynthia?" He put one hand on my upper arm and the other on my hip. "Truly friends?" Then I felt his hand jerkily start moving upwards. Oh no, he wouldn't dare, I thought. He'll stop before he...

But Cynthia just said, "I admit I haven't always been nice to you, but now we're friends. Let me make it up." And with that his hand jerked right up to cup the bottom of my breast. His mother ignored it but Cynthia's eyes lit up in a triumphant smile.

"Yes, keep it like that," Maggie called then came over to talk to us privately. "That was great," she said to us both, then to Rob she continued, "I like the initial timidity and that final nervous reach but a virgin boy would make a grab for the breast. She took hold of his hand, placed it firmly on my breast and pressed his fingers in. Perhaps she then remembered who we were because she hastily pulled his hand away and apologised, "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have done that." She looked away embarrassed.

Rob and I looked at each other. "Tony Ladbrooke is OK with that. How about you?" he said.

"No problem for Cynthia Smythe. Maggie, we talked this over this morning and agreed that we are just actors playing a part. Right, Rob?"

"S'right, Mum."

"If you're both happy, can we do it that way. Try again, just that final clinch." Maggie stepped back and motioned us to continue.

"Please, call me Cynthia. I mean we're friends now, Tony. You can hold me, darling." I made it sound almost like an order. I pulled him closer then held him almost at arms length as I pushed my bosom out towards him.

"Are we friends Mrs er Cynthia?" He put one hand on my upper arm and the other on my hip. "Truly friends?" Then I felt his hand jerkily start moving upwards.

"I admit I haven't always been nice to you but yes, now we're friends. Let me make it up." As Cynthia was saying that, his hand moved right onto her bust and curled motionless over it.

"Grab at it. It's the first tit you've held since you were a baby," ordered Maggie although she was not usually so crude.

His grip tightened on my 'tit' until Maggie called, "Good. Again..." so we took our positions. This time on cue Tony grabbed Cynthia's breast and started kneading it. "Keep it like that," said Maggie as she retreated to her favourite chair and told us to put on our robes against the chill and join her. 'Keep it like that' was Maggie's sign that she was happy.

"Rob, I want Tony to keep that fire built up inside. You help out here, Cynthia. Back right off him while you're telling him your side of the horse brasses saga, leave him panting. Then tease him in your lines about the cow pat. See what I mean: In, out, in, out. Play with your toy. He's yours to take any time you like. Then he'll be ready for the chase."

Maggie turned to the rest of the group and said she wouldn't need them any further tonight. Some stayed on and rehearsed their lines over in the corner but most packed up and left. Somebody made us all a coffee as Maggie expanded on how she saw the rest of the scene developing and it was a totally new departure. Were we happy making the scene very erotic with lots of close contact? She asked. Rob looked at me and nodded so I told Maggie we could do it.

When we had finished our coffee Maggie told us to start from the bedroom door and we'd run through right to the end. But of course it wasn't that easy. The convoluted plot had various members of the cast knocking on the door at critical points in the seduction to give Cynthia news of the outrageous happenings around the swimming pool – happenings that Cynthia had deliberately set up. Maggie supplied all the interruptions but she wanted increasingly frustrated emotion from Cynthia as she had to pop her head round the bedroom door to answer them.

We worked on and on into the night until we finally ran through the full scene to Maggie's satisfaction. The whole scene had been transformed from a comic caper into a steamy, almost pornographic, seduction which made the contrast of the ridiculous interruptions even more hilarious.

Maggie called it a day and gave us a lift back to our place. She wanted to get home so she refused my offer of tea or coffee but I made a cuppa for me and Rob and we sat dunking biscuits and talking through that last scene. I complimented him on his restraint this evening. He hadn't done anything more than Maggie told him and hadn't tried to take any advantage.

"No problem, Mum. It's not Cynthia I fancy." He stood up, bent and kissed me on the lips, but chastely. "It's you!" Then he went to his room leaving me staring into my empty teacup. But I couldn't discern my future in the dregs.

The next night Maggie had us do that final scene again with the rest of the cast knocking on that door. The others had seen just the start of the scene from last night and there were several gasps from them as each erotic move was introduced and laughed at the high camp of the interruptions. When Tony and Cynthia pulled the bedclothes over their heads, the whole cast burst into spontaneous applause – but it wasn't for us, it was for Maggie's skill as the director and she bowed in appreciation.

The week passed quickly and advanced ticket sales seemed to be better than usual. Maybe that's because we all decided we didn't want kids in the audience because of that last scene. So the tickets and posters advertised 'Adults only'. Opening night went off with few hitches and the local paper printed a brilliant review next day.

The critic wrote, " ... intrigued when I saw 'Adults only' emblazoned across the posters at the door. Pilkerton's seminal bedroom farce is more farce and less bedroom ... playing Tony Ladbrooke, was a bundle of energy whose pranks had me wiping tears from my eyes ... Cynthia Smythe's convoluted scheming was convincingly portrayed ... well choreographed moves kept disaster just at bay ... playing Rodney Smythe, was a little out on his timing but the rest of the cast ... Maggie Forsythe's unique interpretation will raise many an eyebrow in literary circles ... it shouldn't have worked, but it did ... unusual casting of a mother and her son ... a delectable huntress trapping her frightened prey ... raw passion which even the offstage pandemonium couldn't quench ... truly an 'Adults only' night to remember."

For the rest of the week we played to standing room only and after the final performance we had a party on the stage to celebrate. By the end of the night we'd all had a few drinks, me to the tune of four large glasses of wine but I think Rob nursed just the one can of beer all night. He's not a big drinker.

We sat together most of the time, I think we were both too tired to mix very much but we kept our ends up in the main conversations. At one stage Rob turned away to talk to one of the minor characters in the play and I became lost in my own thoughts. I was feeling a little sad. This was Rob's last play here and soon he would be leaving home and going to the big city. I would miss him, the house will be empty after the way he uses up space.

I would miss working with him at PADS, he's very good. Never misses a cue and quick to rescue his partner's slips. I would miss his characters from village bobby to chinless wonder to shy virgin. Yes, I thought, I'll miss this play, I've enjoyed it, even having Tony feeling Cynthia's breasts. No, he, my son Rob, was feeling my breasts, I couldn't keep hiding from it. And I liked it, so there, I thought to myself petulantly.

A delicious shiver ran through me. Yes, I enjoyed him touching my body, my breasts. But it had been Tony who was touching me and I had detected no signs of arousal in Rob. Come to think of it I don't know how he controlled himself when I was now all of a quiver. What if – my thoughts seemed to be shying away from the question but it kinda slipped in sideways anyhow – what if it were Rob, not Tony?

It was out. I had named the unspeakable and I knew I was at one of those pivotal points in life. What if it were Rob? This thought kept turning over and over in my mind. What if ... what if...

"Taxi's on the way, Mum." Rob broke my chain of thoughts.

"What? Oh, yeah." I was a bit groggy both from the wine and that semi-trance I had been in. "Help me up."

"You OK, Mum?" he asked as he pulled.

"Sure. Give me a minute to gather my head. Let's get our things together."

We had just about finished our farewell tour of hugs, air kisses and goodbye darlings when the taxi driver hooted outside. We didn't have much to say on the short ride home and I was alone with my thoughts again. What if... ?

I paid the driver off and we went inside. "Have we anything to drink?" I asked.

"We've got a couple of beers or some vodka," he called back, peering into the fridge.

"Pour me a vodka and orange please, son."

"Coming up." He returned with identical glasses for each of us.

I finished mine in two gulps, thrust the glass at Rob and said, "Do me another, please. I've got to pop upstairs for a few minutes."

I still hadn't quite made my mind up as I closed the bathroom door. What if... ?

It was as I relieved my bladder that I came to the decision. What if... ? OK, let's see what if ... what if it were Rob feeling my body. I cleaned myself up, went to my bedroom and put on my costume for the final act of "Cynthia's Secrets" and took a deep breath.

I opened the bedroom door and called out, "Be a dear and bring our drink up here." A few seconds later he was in my bedroom. I closed the door and stood with my back to it. I held out my hand for the drink and took a big gulp then told him to put the glasses on my bedside table.

When he had done that he turned to look at me dressed as Cynthia. "Can we do that last scene one more time, please?" I asked. I didn't know if it was Rob or Tony who looked back at me nervously.

I stood tall, with my legs slightly apart aggressively. Thrusting my hips forward I said my lines, "Thank you so much Rob. You've been very sweet."

"You're welcome, Mrs Smythe. Anytime. But my name's Tony." The shy young man in front of me seemed to wilt in my gaze as I advanced towards him slowly, deliberately opening the four buttons on my blouse.

"How can I thank you?" I allowed the blouse to float off my shoulders and down my arms, catching it in one hand just before it fell away. I smiled at him thinly. "I'll just have to find some way." I stepped up close to my trophy and looped the blouse round his neck, catching the loose end.

"I er think er I should go now Mrs Smythe," he stuttered as I pulled his reluctant body forward a couple of steps.

"Please, call me Mum. I mean we're friends now, Rob. You can hold me, darling." I made it sound almost like an order. I pulled him closer then held him almost at arms length as I pushed my bosom out towards him.

"Are we friends Mrs er Mum?" He put one hand on my upper arm and the other on my hip. "Truly friends?"

Then I felt his hand jerkily start moving upwards. I held my breath for a moment and breathed my line, "I admit I haven't always been nice to you, but now we're friends Rob. Let me make it up."

His hand covered my breast and manipulated it lovingly, not like Tony's immature groping. I then knew that it was my son – and we both knew where we were heading. But to get back to the play...

I let go of one end of my blouse and dragged it slowly from his neck. Taking his wrist between my thumb and fingertips, I moved his hand from my breast, holding it away from me almost in disdain as I stepped back. "Slowly, Rob. First I need to tell you why I've seemed cruel."

"Er, what... ? He looked perplexed, unsure.

Dropping his hand, I stepped back a pace and stood in my original pose, my bosom heaving. "I have to confess it was I who put Mr Johnson's horse brasses in your cricket bag." I ran my hands over my body, squeezing my breasts then continuing down to caress my bottom as I turned slightly to let him see the action.

"That was you, Mrs, Mum?"

"Yes, but I knew you could easily prove your alibi so I knew you wouldn't get into too much trouble." I advanced again, pushing my body into his and forcing him back until his knees were against the bed. "I needed the diversion, to have Mr Johnson out of the way." A thrust of my bosom caught him off balance, making him sit on the bed. Hitching my skirt up, I sat astride his legs and slowly began opening the buttons down his summer shirt.

"You did look so funny when you went down in that cow pat." I ran my hands over his bare chest. "But I'm sorry I laughed at you." I was slipping his shirt off his shoulders when, just on cue, Rob rapped his knuckles against the bed frame – this was the way we simulated the knocks on the door in rehearsal, the knocks which brought all those comic interludes.

I stood up, feeling frustrated, as I walked to the door, opened it and stuck my head. I didn't bother with the conversation, closed the door again and turned to see Rob with hands in his lap hiding an erection, with his arms still hampered by the shirt just as Maggie had instructed, and ready for the next part.

"M, Mum," he stuttered – and I was glad he hadn't used C, Cynthia – "I do believe you distracted me so I would slip on it."

I sat next to him and, as I untangled his arms from his shirt I noticed that the erection was real. He wore a very tight fitting swimming costume under his shorts 'just in case' but the bulge was noticeable close up, and I was pleased because he had always been so under control on stage.

"Now why would I have done that?" I turned his head to kiss him. Instead of the usual seemingly active but very chaste kiss, I thrust my tongue through his unresisting lips and put my passion into it.

Knock, knock. I had to stifle a groan as I smiled sweetly at him. "Don't go away, I'll be back in a minute." I repeated my mute performance at the door and now he still had hands in his lap but was squirming in his seat.

I returned to him but sat at arm's length from him and he looked at me with desire in his eyes. Maggie had told us this was where Cynthia would be 'backed off' and aloof, untouchable. I sat there arranging and smoothing my skirt as I delivered one of Cynthia's funniest speeches, interspersed with my giggles. It was the rambling monologue of her side of the prank she had earlier played on the Dean.

"I don't think the Dean was laughing, Mum."

"Oh, you silly boy," I gushed. I leaned over and very slowly walked my fingers from his knee, up his thigh in the direction of his groin. "That was the whole point, Rob. The Dean has had it coming for years. He has been perfectly beastly to me. Come on, Rob. You can be nice to me, can't you?" My fingers were just about to move onto his very private area when...

Knock, knock. Jeez, I knew the frustration Cynthia must have felt, had the play been real. I stood and turned to answer it. I finished my 'business' at the door and returned to him. I now stood astride his legs, my thighs clamping his together. I pulled his head into my bosom and kept his nose in my cleavage.

"I do hope, Mum, you'll never take after me like you did after the Dean" His voice was somewhat muffled by my flesh.

"Oh no, my dear Rob. I have much better plans for you." I pulled him to his feet and running my hands down his bare chest, I sank to my knees in front of him. "Much better!" I was drooling as I said that to his crotch. I put my hands on the waistband of his slacks, moving towards the buttons when he pushed me away and stepped sideways, away from me, hiding his crotch as though too embarrassed to let me see. I clutched at him as he retreated but only managed to grab a handful of material which didn't hinder him. I lunged again, now determined to have him, but again he danced away.

This was the beginning of our hectic pursuit around the bedroom. At first it was me chasing him all round and over the bed, he lost both his sandals to my despairing snatches and still I couldn't catch him. Until we found ourselves on opposite sides of the bed.

We stared at each other, panting from our exertions and passion, my bosom heaving, almost threatening to burst forth from its confines. Suddenly the look in his eyes changed. He snarled at me, baring his teeth then dived across the bed but I just managed to escape. Then it was me being chased in the course of which he ripped my skirt off – one of those props garments that parts with a good tug.

Again we faced each other but now it was I who hid my crotch behind my hands, glad this time for Maggie's instructions because I'm sure there was a dark wet patch down there. I'm sure his erection must have be painful, strapped down as it was

I started the next lunge and managed to grab the waist of his slacks. "Got you this time, young Mister Rob. Now we'll see what you're made of."

His playful struggles became more feeble and I was able to get his slacks in a pile round his feet and was licking my lips at the crotch of his red silk boxers...

Knock, knock. "Oh, no." My exasperation was unfeigned. How could he do this to me, although we hadn't deviated from Maggie's directions and I should have known it was coming. I answered the door knowing it was the final interruption when all my grand scheming would come together. The off-stage conversation had me jumping up and down and wriggling with excitement so my generous bum jigged about a lot. I knew Rob would be ogling it

I closed the door with a look of triumph on my face. "That despicable tradesman: did he think he could insult me with impunity? He's ruined and now his estate will be mine." Clapping my hands together softly, I raised my eyes in the general direction of heaven. "Perfect," I exulted. "What a simply perfect day, don't you know, Rob. And the final prize is best of all."

I advanced and held him close. Our kiss was real and full of passion. As we slipped under the bedclothes Rob groaned, "Oh Mum," and placed his hand on my breast, squeezing passionately.

"Yes Rob. Yes." My hand went down to his groin, seeking the bulge pressing into my thigh. We didn't come out for the curtain calls.

But here we met a further frustrating distraction: we hadn't realised just how constraining our underwear was. From the frantic scrabbling at my breast I knew he wanted to hold the real flesh, not hindered by the armour plating of my foundation garment and I was equally frustrated by his swim costume. "Let's get undressed," I whispered, kissing him desperately."

Flinging the sheets aside we jumped out of bed. He started taking off his boxers but I told him to wait. Although my fingers were trembling with anticipation I somehow managed all those tiny hooks in record time, feeling my breasts and tummy sag a little as the constraints were released. I stepped out of the offending garment and got to my knees to release my son, the aromas from my sex pervaded the air around us.

Now I was frantic to see what he had been hiding and hurriedly pulled his shorts down to reveal the white swimming trunks. I found the cords around his hips – thank god he tied it in a bow – and pulled them open. His cock had been forced back between his legs and now, released from its prison, it came up like a spring and bounced about my face, leaving streaks of his sticky fluids trailing across my cheek and lips.

As I pulled his shorts and trunks off his feet he groaned in relief and started scratching and stretching his scrotum. I took hold of his bobbing tool in both hands, the clean, spicy smell was in my nostrils as my pursed lips kissed the tip and my tongue snaked out to taste his nectar. I took the head slowly into my mouth, my tongue exploring under the foreskin.

"Stop, Mum. I'm coming!" he moaned in anguish but I slid my lips down until I felt his tool filling my mouth. I sucked it in and out, flicking the end with my tongue and was rewarded with a jerk of his hips and my mouth being filled with spurt after spurt of his seed. I swallowed as fast as I could, aware that dribbles were escaping down my chin. I sucked and squeezed him dry, savouring the salty tang on my palate.

When there was no more to be extracted and the flesh between my lips started softening I stood and kissed him, realising as our lips met that he would taste himself in my mouth. His tongue snaked in, paused briefly then resumed its tag match with my own. We broke the kiss and he cautiously lapped up the remnants of his sperm from my chin. He licked his lips and kissed me again.

I guided us both to the bed and pulled him down beside me. His hand went straight to my neglected breasts, seeking the rigid, aching nipples which he squeezed and pulled roughly, sparking electric jolts all the way to my pussy. His mouth descended on one nipple, sucking powerfully, his hands continuing to maul my tits mercilessly as my hand pressed his head hard into the yielding flesh.

Oh, I needed something, anything, in my lonely cunt, thrilling at the thought of that crude word. Running my hand over his chest and abdomen and on down, I was pleased to find him once again hard in his manhood. I pulled one hand from my breast and guided it to my humid pussy, gasping as a finger penetrated me. He continued exploring my secret regions, making me jerk each time his hand brushed over my tingling clitoris. A second finger joined the first, twisting and turning inside me, occasionally stimulating my sensitive spot, causing me to hump against his hand.

His mouth left off chewing my nipple as he kissed his way wetly down the underside of my breast and on across my rib cage. My fingers replaced his mouth on my nipple and took over the exquisite torture, my body shivered as he laid a warm, wet trail to my navel, his tongue probing there deeply. He moved his body, leaving my breasts to my own manipulations as he spread my thighs wide and knelt between them.

Twining his fingers through my dense pubic curls he gently tugged each hand to one side as he used his thumbs to part my slick lips then move up to trap my hypersensitive nodule between them. I felt his warm breath cooling the juices leaking copiously between my legs and whimpered as his tongue licked right up the gap between my engorged labia, gently probing and penetrating until at last his mouth settled over my clitoris.

Abandoning my tits, my hands moved to the back of his head. I pulled it hard into my groin, feeling his teeth grating over my clitoris. I clamped my thighs around his head and just held him in place as I gyrated to my own rhythm, feeling the volcano building inside me. "Oh, oh, oh," I panted, wanting release. His marvellous tongue was flicking over my clitoris, further fuelling the fires inside me and when he bit down on my clitoris I just exploded. Wet warmth flooded my pussy as I screamed, "YESYESYESYESYES!!!" and continued to fuck his trapped head selfishly as I thrashed about until I could take no more.

I released my hold on him and his face came up gasping for air but he soon recovered and I encouraged and guided his willing tool to the entrance of my pussy. His prick needed no further coaxing as it slipped easily towards my aching channel. I felt the head part my lips and slide on through, I was gasping as his continued penetration filled the space which had been empty so long. I felt my insides stretch easily to accommodate him and raised my body to meet him.

Now he started thrusting, slowly at first but soon hammering in and out. I cared not that he was using me as greedily as I had so recently used him, I matched my rhythm to his, calling words of encouragement and passion into his ear as our pubic bones clashing together. He needed release and my body was eager to have his seed bathe my womb. I wrapped my ankles round his waist and dug my heels into his kidneys. His thrusts became jerky and he grunted in his lust, "I'm coming, Mum. Oooohhhh I'm coming."

"Give it to me, son" I panted back, "fill me, fill your Mummy's cunt with your seed, my baby. Come in me now." I felt his body jerking with each spurt that sprayed inside me, briefly re-igniting my flames until he finally collapsed, gasping and spent, onto the soft cushion of my body and I cradled my son where he belonged. I held him there, stroking his hair and dropping butterfly kisses on his forehead and eyes as his breathing returned to normal and his tool slowly softened until it plopped out and hung limply as my lips slowly closed the gap. Our combined juices trickled out of my pussy and oozed unheeded to the growing patch on the sheet beneath.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Romantic / Heterosexual / Fiction / Humor / Incest / Mother / Son / Oral Sex / Slow /