Chapter 2: incest

I’d barely finished high school; higher education was not a possibility for me. I didn’t have the grades or the money, so mom got me a janitorial job at the Saudi hospital where she worked as a nurse.

With no one else to talk to, we started to talk to each other for the first time. That was the silver lining to our dark clouds. Mother told me how she missed Raj, and I told her how I’d fallen in love with his mother.

“Come on Travis;” mom said, “Surely it was just the sex. You have nothing in common with Radha.”

“Then how come my heart feels like it’s stuck in a vise?” I moaned.

She nodded. “I know how you feel, it’s the same for me. It’s like an arm has been ripped away. But we’ll get past it; I’ve been in love before, I know that the pain fades after a while. Of course, a new lover is a great help; but don’t you do it. I’ve seen you talking to that Korean nurse, you know what they do to people here for that.”

“Talking?”

“The morality police are nut cases! They’ll take hand holding as proof, and flog you for fucking her whether you did it or not! And then we’ll both be deported, and then what?”

If we went back to Zimbabwe, we’d be trapped there. We’d never get the paperwork to escape; as white Africans, we’re despised by the black racists, the white anti-racists, and even the white racists. The black government wouldn’t let us leave, and other governments wouldn’t let us in. We have to be treated the same as all other citizens of our embattled country. If anyone did let us in, they’d have to let the blacks in too, or be labeled racist. And no one wanted to let in the black people.

I couldn’t avoid noticing my mother’s big tits surging under her robe as she made breakfast for us. Her long legs and narrow waist. I fantasized of her; we were too close, and everyone else was too far away.

Sometimes, I stood too close to her. So close, that I could smell her need for love was as strong as mine. So close I could feel her heat.

I came out of the shower with just a small towel around my hips. I could feel her eyes on me; I looked at her in a mirror and I could see her looking at my ass. I could see her expression too, unguarded for a moment. Then I knew I wasn’t the only desperate pervert in the house.

“I have such a terrible headache.” Mother said to me one evening a few weeks after our friends had left.

I stood behind her and massaged her shoulders, like I used to do for Radha when she was tense.

I was slightly taller than my mother now, although she was taller than Radha, her shoulders slightly wider, her waist slightly narrower.

“That feels good.” She said.

“Lie down and I’ll do it properly.” I told her.

I swear, I had no conscious plans at that moment. It just seemed right and perfectly reasonable to do whatever I could for her, as she would for me.

She peeled off her shirt. God, she did have big breasts I thought to myself. They hung heavily in her bra, bulging outwards. When she lay down, her back was actually hunched upwards because of them beneath her.

“You shouldn’t have to do this for me.” She said as I began to work on her tense muscles.

“We only have each other now.” I said.

“I sure miss them.” She said.

“Me too.”

“I know it sounds stupid, but I was, I am, crazy about him.” Mom said. “You know he was the first lover I had since we came here.”

There was silence for a while as I worked. Her skin was pale and smooth, with just the occasional blemish for contrast.

“That feels so good.” Mom said.

I worked down her arms, then massaged her head.

“Did you learn this from Radha?” she asked.

“Yes.” I said, moving to her feet. “She taught me a lot.” I added, thinking about Indian cooking.

“Well, we won’t talk about those things.” Mother broke in.

She had bigger feet than Radha, but softer. I moved up her ankles, feeling a little odd about it. Mom had great legs; long and shapely calves. Her skin was pleasant to the touch.

“MMMM.” Mom said. “That’s nice.”

I caressed the backs of her knees gently with my thumbs, then moved higher.

“Travis.”

“Yes?”

“That’s high enough.” Mom said.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“What?”

“Anything.”

“You must miss Radha terribly.” She said.

“Yes.” I said.

“I miss Raj too, but we have to remember who we are.” She said.

I started massaging my sexy mother every evening. She would moan and sigh as I did it, and I always had an erection that I was careful to keep to myself. My hands moved higher, lower, all over, and finally I had them on her ass. She lay there silently as I massaged the maximus gluteus. She was wearing underwear.

I brushed her hair for her too; it was thin and just shoulder length, yellow with a few white roots. It was a way to be intimate without crossing the line.

Yet that line was getting closer all the time.

“Travis, who do you think about when you masturbate?” Mom asked one evening as my hands slid over her soft white skin.

“I don’t want to talk about that.” I told her, noticing that she was damp between her thighs. My hands stopped, my cock throbbed, my mother just lay there silently. I ran my thumbs higher, my fingers splayed over her pale ass.

The truth was that sometimes I did think of her as I jerked off. I tried to focus my mind elsewhere, it was difficult to get horny about the women at work, who all wore hijab. Celebrities and actresses got me off sometimes. I never downloaded porn, I was too paranoid.

“Go on.” Mother said.

I wasn’t sure what she meant; I eased my thumbs deeper, so they were in her groin on either side of her vagina.

“Close your eyes, and think of Radha.” Mother instructed me. “Imagine your hands are on her, I’m not here at all. What would you do then?”

So; this was it, she was specifically asking me to cross that line. I hesitated.

Sure, I’d fantasized of it. I’d allowed myself that, yet to actually physically do it in real life was a different matter. I was able to get myself off, Mom needed someone else to do it for her, and if I didn’t then she’d need to find a lover, a man.

I pushed my finger into my mother’s wet vagina, and felt it contract around my knuckle. She lay silent, as if nothing was happening; I inserted a second finger and worked them in and out for a minute. It was surreal; I was fingering my own mother’s tight wet cunt, trying to get her to come. She wiggled her ass a little, I could tell it was stimulating her.

“It’s not enough.” Mother told me desperately.

I knew then, what she wanted. And I wanted the same thing. My penis had been alone for too long, I’d touched her and stroked her too many hours, my stiff rod needed a home and her neglected vagina needed a cock in it.

She lifted her rear and I pulled her underwear down her long white legs, she waited as I took my trousers off and got into position. Silently, I eased my stiff rod over her ass, down between her thighs, and poked the tip against her wet slot.

She pushed herself back, and I was in her. Neither of us spoke as I slid it the rest of the way in. It felt so good, there’s just nothing like having my cock deep in a tight wet vagina. Her round white ass was against my lower belly, she moaned softly. Fuck! I was inside my own mother, and it was great.

Mom and Raj talked online once or twice a week. One time, I looked in and saw her hand was in her groin during a call. I was sure she was thinking of him as my cock stimulated her. I did what I was told, closed my eyes and tried to think of Radha.

“Faster, go on, there’s no use doing it half assed.” Mother insisted. Soon I was ramming my hard rod in and out of her, the sensation of it was wonderful, and I tried to do what I’d been told and imagine it was my Indian lover below me. It just didn’t work; Mother felt, sounded, and smelled different.

We’d never been religious. Back home in Zimbabwe I’d often woken up to find a strange man at our breakfast table. Mostly white men, just one time there was a black man. Remember where we were, interracial relationships were very dangerous. One time, there were two men. I never asked, had she had them both? Anyway, my point is that she’d had lovers. I’d only been with Radha.

My mother had a tight pussy. She wasn’t like the Indian woman at all. And Radha always wore a sandalwood perfume, and actually, I only ever came while looking into her big brown eyes.

There was an orgasm, not by me though. I kept going, I had the idea that not to come would be an insult, a failure or something.

MILF; Mother I’d Like to Fuck. I don’t think people generally refer to their own mother with the term, but there we were. She was beautiful even from behind. She pushed back to meet each stroke, she came again, and still I just couldn’t get there.

Finally, she pulled away and rolled over, sitting upright on the bed.

she’d unhooked her bra when she lay down, so now her breasts were exposed; she sat up and they swung down in front of her, low yet big and full, with stiff dark nipples. I wrestled my eyes away from them, up into her big blue orbs. We stared at each other, she looked sort of shocked, as if she didn’t understand why my big stiff wet cock was hanging in front of her face.

She reached for it. She opened her mouth and lifting herself up onto her knees, started to suck on me. I held her head in my hands, she was face down so I was only looking at her scalp. I noticed white roots, and idly wondered how long she’d been dying her hair, and why she’d bother considering she always had to keep her head covered when outside the flat.

It felt great, I still couldn’t come though. Until I tilted her face up, and looked into her blue eyes. She’d told Radha that I had my father’s eyes; yet Mom had the same eyes as me. She looked at me, I looked at her, and lightning seemed to flash between us.

She was no longer my mother, not in the sense that she was in charge. My large hands on her small face, my big cock in her mouth, erased that relationship and replaced it with another. She was my lover now; my little woman. I stared into that pretty face, her devil eyes, my eyes looking back at myself, we were one, equal in our depravity, and I erupted, the evil of it and the good all came out of me as I came hard.

“Mmmm!” she grunted as she sucked eagerly, “Mmmm!”

I stumbled out of her room and into mine, and lay down on the bed I used to share with Radha. I waited for the self loathing, the revulsion, the guilt that I had to feel.

It never came.

I heard the sound of a knife against the cutting board, the clank of pots, the sizzling of food frying.

We ate in silence, facing each other, looking at each other. Big breasts in a half open blouse, daring me to want them.

The next night mother came into the bathroom as I was having a shower. She took off her clothes, press her tits against my back, reached around and administered a beautiful handjob. I couldn’t look at her face this way, I liked having her body against my back though.

She turned the water off (hot water cost money), as her hands worked my stiff rod with soap.

“Is this ok?” she whispered.

“Yes.” I grunted as her hand polished the end with disconcerting skill.

I turned to face her. She stared up at me in surprise, hands still keeping a firm grip on my erection.

I washed her, scrubbing her fine white skin, rinsing her, and she only let go of my penis when there was no alternative.

“I just wanted to give you a handjob.” She complained as I led her to my bed.

She clearly had mixed feelings; so did I. Were we destroying our relationship, could our love withstand sex? My hands explored her naked body as her big blue eyes stared into mine, and I wanted more.

I pushed her knees apart, my penis entered her, face to face, breast to breast, I fucked her. We stared at each other, neither of us daring to speak. It was wrong, destructive, a disaster. Yet it felt so good, I couldn’t stop. I was big and hard, she was tight and wet, squirming with pleasure. Her long legs wrapped around me, her hands tightened on my ass, and she came.

I kissed her, and she let me. And as our lips held for 5 long seconds, I came.

Mom sighed; “This is getting worse.” She said.

She was right.

The line was crossed, crushed, and now there was no more line.

A few days later we were watching a movie on TV, I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. I stroked her blond head, my fingers traced her face and neck. She held my left hand as my right went around her and found her breast. It was big and heavy. She twisted her face up and I held her head in my hand and I kissed her mouth, my cock throbbing in my trouser leg.

My right hand moved down, her grip on my left tightened, her eyes held me tightly as my fingers slipped to the inside of her thigh, because she was wearing a skirt and no stockings. Her panties eased to one side, and her vagina was damp, wetting further as my finger slipped inside of it.

Mother grunted and writhed a little, we didn’t speak. She seemed close, but I couldn’t quite get her there. Then she opened my belt, and lowered her face to suck my erection.

I knew what her intent was; to end this before it went where it was going.

I let her do it, stroking her head as it bobbed up and down on my hard cock. It felt good, so fucking good. Raj and Radha had been gone for 6 months.

I let her service me that way, without eye contact. It was safer than fucking, sharing orgasms.

Then our eyes met; my cock was half way inside her mouth, throbbing, at the edge of orgasm. Her eyes were my eyes, as though I was fucking myself when I fucked my mother.

I came hard, and she sucked it down hungrily. And then she kept sucking, and I stayed hard.

“Take your clothes off.” I told her.

“Oh Travis, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She said, my stiff cock in her tight grip denying her words.

I stared into her eyes the way I stared into Radha’s eyes when I wanted her to want me. “Take them off.” I insisted.

And she did.

Her vagina was tight, she was wet, and she was beautiful.

I fucked her hard, because I had no semen to ejaculate. Well, almost none. My mother came three times before I had a second half orgasm. Came while looking into my eyes, kissing my mouth, her arms and legs clutching my body, her fingers on my face.

I stayed on top of her for a while when we were done, holding my body up on my knees and elbows looking down at her face as my penis went soft inside her vagina.

“That was great.” I said.

“It was.” She agreed quietly. “I’m a bit terrified Travis. What we’re doing, it’s supposed to be really bad, deeply damaging. Even in the most sexually liberal countries, this is forbidden.”

“I know.” I said, pulling out and falling onto my back next to her, “Why should we care though? Here in Saudi Arabia, practically all interaction between men and women is forbidden, we’ve been flouting the law for years. It’s just one more step.”