Chapter 4

The impact of that afternoon carried on for weeks after, setting the stage for Mom and my daily interactions. We made dozens of hand-job videos, two dozen videos of her blowing me, and a whole slurry of nude footage to add to our growing archive of smut. I could hardly believe just how many gigabytes of incestuous evidence I possessed.

Eventually, I caved and bought an expensive GoPro to facilitate the filming. It would leave both of my hands free to fully enjoy the experience, and its fish-eye lens made the first-person perspective feel even more authentic.

Mom had a particular fondness for using her mouth, and her talents improved from the near-daily practice she subjected herself to. I had completely given up on masturbating; there was no point in wasting what would inevitably become another glistening addition to our annals of amateur pornography.

I was living the dream. I had a beautiful woman posing naked for me every day and, in addition, we had grown much closer thanks to the copious amount of time we spent around each other in the nude.

Better still, the line between her on camera-persona and how she interacted with me “in real life” was steadily blurring. Off-camera kisses became a frequent thing, and though they never progressed to fully making out, it was surreal to give my mother a goodbye kiss before I left to attend class for the day.

I was so enthralled with the routine of having my dick sucked every day that I completely forgot about sex.

Okay, that’s a lie. Somewhere in the back of mind, I was still aware of how firmly she’d forbidden it, but I was having so many orgasms that I was some combination of too satisfied and too scared to push her. Of course, I told myself that I was being a good guy by respecting her boundaries and not pushing her.

The results of my patience revealed themselves one morning over breakfast. I was scraping the last scoop of oatmeal from my bowl when Mom, having just finished her artistically arranged bowl of yogurt and berries, asked if I had a second to talk before we began filming for the day.

True to our calling as amateur pornstars, I was completely naked at the table. I rarely found it necessary or even prudent to wear clothes when we had a shoot scheduled. Mom, dressed in a white robe to conceal her nudity, was slight more modest, though a single tug on the knot around her waist would reveal her deliciously naked body underneath. I was giddy with excitement to unwrap her, but did my best to focus on her request and take it seriously.

I pushed my empty bowl forward and crossed my hands on the table. “What’s up, Mom?”

She seemed uncertain with how to start the conversation she had initiated. Whatever thoughts were running through her mind, they seemed impossible for her to sort out. With a shake of her head, she collected herself and asked what I planned on doing that night. Like every night, my plans were to hang out with her. She was not satisfied with that answer.

“I was thinking,” she said, “that maybe we could go out for dinner? Like, to a real restaurant.”

“As a couple?” The use of that title made my heart skip a beat.

Mom nodded excitedly. “It would be fun to dress up and go spend a night on the town. Don’t you think?”

I certainly did. Any opportunity to show her off was one that I would have been happy to take. Even if I’d been trying to get dates with other women, I doubted I would have scored a beauty like her more than once in a blue moon.

Shortly after breakfast, I picked a restaurant that I knew she would like. It was a decent distance away, but I figured that would lower the chances of us running into someone we knew.

We spent the entire day finding as many opportunities as we could to tease the other in anticipation. Mom came into my room on more than one occasion to interrupt my homework session. She would pretend to be interested in what I was working on while either planting dozens of not-so-subtle kisses on the back of my neck or worming her hand in between my thighs. The surge of blood that she sent flooding to my cock would linger long after she left, making it impossible to think about anything else. No matter how horny she made me, though, I refused to jerk off. I wanted to save everything for her.

It was strange that, after all we had been through, we were finally going on our first date. But, we had all the familiarity of a couple who had been together for many years.

The dress that Mom chose to wear was nothing short of miraculous. The red garment was snug on her curves, with a deep “V” containing her cleavage that left very little to my imagination. The dress stopped just above her knees, both of which were clad in sheer stockings whose roots were buried in the toes of her dazzling white heels. I had never seen such an outfit on her before, and wondered if she had purchased it just to wow me.

I did not need to tell her how breathtaking she looked. As soon as I set eyes on her remarkable form descending the stairs into the foyer, she confidently declared, “I know, honey. I thought you’d like it.”

I looked like a regular schlub next to her, but her mere presence made me twice the man I knew I was. Simply having her next to me made me feel like a king with no equal. The fact that such a woman of her caliber had chosen to spend even one minute in my company was sure to turn more than a few heads, and I think both of us were keen to let people stare.

At the restaurant, neither the valet, the server, nor the surrounding tables knew of the monumental strides we were taking by being seen together in that light. Running into somebody we knew would raise serious questions; no mother would be caught dead taking her son out to dinner in something so immodest. Nevertheless, I deemed the risk worth it. Clearly, so did Mom.

In keeping with the theme of the evening, we ordered an unfamiliar appetizer. As soon as we took the first bite of seaweed-encrusted chicken skewers, our response was so instantaneous that it nearly made the other laugh hard enough to spit out their food.

Mom scrunched her face into a contorted display of disgust. “That is awful!”

I lifted my napkin so that I could spit out the abhorrent mouthful. “You can say that again. At least we tried it, right?”

She pushed her plate away. “That will be that last time I have seaweed that isn’t wrapped around a piece of raw fish.”

I put similar distance between me and the putrid appetizer. “Amen.”

Our entrees, and the wine that went with them, went down a lot smoother -- though to be fair, it’s hard to compare anything wrapped in seaweed to the divine purity of a well-cooked porterhouse. Mom opted for a salad, and only elected to add a grilled chicken breast to it after she had made a chuckle-worthy joke about her increased protein intake as of late.

As the meal progressed, Mom became more liberal with her hands. What began as a simple hold on my fingers quickly translated to her stroking the inside of my wrist, and culminated with the insertion of her stocking-clad foot – sans shoe – between my legs under the table.

I jumped a little when she wiggled her toes underneath my ball sack. I looked around to make sure nobody had noticed, but we were completely alone. None of the other diners had a second of time to spare for the mother and son playing footsies in the dimly lit corner of the room.

I stifled a groan. “What are you doing down there?”

Mom grinned with malicious intent. “Just playing with my food.”

My heart sunk into my stomach, but I wanted to play ball. I glanced around at the other patrons just to ease my worries; nobody had noticed. She dug in with her toes, sliding her foot deeper into my crotch so that the bridge of her foot was tucked tightly below my balls.

“Jesus, Mom. You’re gonna make me hard,” I said breathlessly, but it was too late. Blood had begun rushing to my cock the moment her toes touched me, and in just a few short seconds I was as stiff as a double whiskey.

She held a finger over her mouth to shush me. “Careful with talk like that, honey. Do you want me to change the subject, before it’s too late?”

Assuming that she was talking about the worry that I might pop a boner in the midst of a crowded restaurant, I informed her that it was too late. Unwilling to take me at my word, Mom pulled her foot out from the nook between me and the chair so that she could poke around in search of proof. Her tiny toes prodded the base of my dick, which was glued to the inside of my thigh, then traced the bulging outline in the fabric all the way to the head.

She leaned in closer so nobody would hear. “Oh, honey. Just from Mommy’s lil’ toes?”

I averted my gaze to the napkin covering my lap and shamefully nodded my head. “We should get the cheque, like, really soon.”

“Not yet. I still have something I want to talk to you about.” She loved being in control. Usually I was the one giving her directions from behind a camera, but that night she was in the driver’s seat.

“Well, what is it?” I was curious, but more interested in a distraction so that I wouldn’t dump a load of cum into my nice pants.

Mom thought for a moment, mulling over how to best explain what was on her mind. I was prepared for the worst, but my anxiety dissipated when she asked plainly, “How are our subscribers doing?”

I was not sure why she would ask a question whose answer she already knew. “They’re good. People love the couple’s content.”

“That’s good, I guess.” She tried to obscure her disappointment, but came up short.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Let me guess; you’re pouting because it’s too easy, and you miss having a challenge?”

Mom shook her head. “It’s just that ... I suppose it doesn’t really matter. We are making money, right? Enough for you finish school?”

“I don’t want to count any chickens over here but, you know. One, two 10,000!”

Mom smiled, but once again it melted into what appeared to be thinly-veiled frustration. “That’s great news, honey! Really, I’m happy to hear that.”

“Do you want me to get you a dictionary so you can look up the definition of that word? I don’t think you’re using it right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

“Come on! We’ve always been able to tell each other everything. If anything, that should be doubly true now, after everything we’ve been through.”

Mom’s sour demeanor finally broke into a gleeful grin, accompanied by a swift swat on my arm. “Okay, fine! You know I don’t like keeping secrets from you.” She stirred an olive pit around in her bowl, pushing it back and forth with her fork. “I guess part of me – like, a small part – is a bit annoyed that we’re doing so well.”

Finally, she looked up from her bowl and saw the quizzical look on my face, so she knew she had to explain herself further. “The last time we had a dip in subscribers we tried something new, remember?”

I scoffed at the idea that such a powerful core memory could ever be forgotten. “Of course I do.”

Mom straightened her back. “Right, exactly. I guess I was just hoping that, if they had dipped again, it would be an excuse to try something else.”

“Maybe we don’t need an excuse! We could do some stuff in public, maybe?”

“That’s very creative sweetheart, but tell me this; what’s the one thing in the world you wish we could do together?”

I blurted out the reply, spewing forth my utmost desire. I leaned and whispered, “I want to have sex with you.”

Mom sucked in a sharp breath, trying to obscure the faint tremble in her lower lip. I was sure she had expected that reply, but it was probably still jarring to actually hear it. “Are you sure, honey? Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“More than anything in the world.”

She had already finished eating, but gulped down her nerves as though they were spilling out of her mouth. She parted her lips a few times to speak, but closed them each time as she wrestled with how to respond. Finally, after a few agonizing seconds, she looked at me and offered a subtle, yet eager nod.

I could not believe it: literally. “Holy shit. Are you serious?”

Again, she nodded. “I think so. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and ... well, I just want to do it.”

“Well, you did take me out for dinner. Maybe I should let you take me to bed.” Much to my surprise, my sarcasm broke the tension like a battering ram. Mom snorted like an ugly piglet and had to cover her mouth to contain the giggle fit.

I pulled her hand away from her mouth so that I could kiss the back of her knuckles. “Is that a yes?”

Both of her cheeks burned a deep crimson. “It’s a yes, sweetheart. Are we crazy?”

“We are absolute fucking lunatics,” I assured her.

We paid the bill, grabbed our jackets, then stepped outside to wait for the valet. Both of us were giddy with excitement over the dirty little secret we shared. None of the other diners -- some a few mere feet from our table -- knew of the breadth of our incestuous plans.

The evening air was calm, and just chilly enough that Mom was encouraged to stand close to me for warmth. I wrapped my jacket around her shoulders and hugged her tight. Her fingers intertwined with mine and, once they were embedded, refused to loosen for a single second.

Mom insisted that she was feeling too loopy from the wine to drive home comfortably, so I played chauffeur to my darling passenger. The drive home would not be long, but it seemed that she couldn’t wait.

By the time we had passed the second set of stoplights, she was already leaning over the stick shift to assault my neck with kisses. It happened so quickly that I pondered the possibility that she was lying about being drunk to ensure that she would be able to toy with me on the drive home.

She breathed heavy into my ear. “Is this okay?”

“You mean, am I going to crash?”

She nodded with a wicked grin.

“Erm, probably not.”

“What if I do this?” Her question did nothing to alleviate the surprise of her hand slithering between my legs.

“W-whoa, Mom!”

She giggled happily and lifted my arm rest so she could unzip my pants. “Eyes in the road, mister. Let Mommy play.”

Her hand reached into the open zipper and fished around for my dick. Upon finding it, her fingers circled around the head. “Is that okay?”

I grunted noisily. “Why don’t you just tell me where this is going, and I can tell you whether or not it’ll make me pass out?”

She fished my cock out of my pants and, without skipping a beat, pulled down the front of her dress so that her tits flopped out. Her bra was still on, but a mere glimpse of her cleavage made me throb in her palm.

“Why don’t you just focus on the road and—” she punctuated each of her following words with a series of tight squeeze from her fingers. “--Let. Me. Play.”

I nodded obediently; I was putty in her hands.

Mom knew exactly how to manipulate me to get what she wanted. That was true of me and of my dick. She knew every technique that would make me as hard as could be, but her talents did not stop there. Each practiced pull, every ounce of training that she had undergone while filming our videos, had turned her into an unparalleled expert in her desired field.

The veins running up the length of my cock came to life, responding to the touch to which it had grown so accustomed. She gingerly squished the spongy dome in her palm, paying specific attention to how my heartbeat thumped in response. The cushioned cap was made of memory foam, every tiny bump and swirl of her fingers imprinted upon it as they pressed down one by one. Her hand travelled down, ensnaring the root in her iron grip so she could begin her routine of vigorous stroking. By that point, despite my years of practice, Mom was better at jerking me off than I was.

I stared straight ahead, trying to hide how susceptible I was to her methodical fondling. My knuckles were as white as ash, and it took every ounce of focus in me to pay attention to the road. The dotted lines on the tarmac blurred and became one, while the yellow glow of the streetlamps distorted into bursts of angelic light from the heavens. I wanted to melt right then and there, but Mom kept me attentive.

“You’re in the wrong lane, honey.” She tugged my cock to the right like it was a joystick. “Go that way, please.”

“S-sorry, Mom.” I situated the car between the lines again, and hoped that nobody had noticed the erratic swerving.

I entered the proper lane just as we pulled up to a stoplight. I thought the red glow would bring a moment of peace for me to enjoy Mom’s stroking, but luck was not on my side. In the rear-view mirror, just as I was closing my eyes to succumb to the pleasured of her clenched fist, a low riding, jet-black muscle car pulled up next to us and honked its horn.

The mystery driver called out to us. “Holy shit! Is that Mrs. P?”

My heart leapt into my throat. Mom quickly pulled up her dress to cover her tits, and lowered the window, using every ounce of poise that I lacked. She did not, however, remove her hand from my cock. In fact, her stroking reached a fever pitch, as though she was trying everything in her power to make me break while she remained calm and collected.

“Hello, boys,” she cooed. “Long-time, no see.”

It amazed me how calm she sounded despite the effort she was exerting. There was not so much as a hiccup in her pace when she greeted them. She picked up her speed to send me a message that came in loud and clear: she was not stopping.

“Is that Eric with you?” the voice asked.

I realized, to my dismay, that I recognized the driver.

I leaned forward in the seat so that I could see past Mom’s gigantic tits, to find the Coopers – two brothers that I had been friends with as a kid – staring back at me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to ignore the hand dutifully plummeting into my lap every half second. “Uh. Hey, guys.”

If our car had been any lower to the ground, I feared that we would have been caught. Thankfully, the Coopers were car fanatics, and as such took joy in tuning their ride so it was a low to the pavement as it could go without breaking too many regulations.

“Been a minute, man,” Dennis, the older brother, called from the driver seat.

His brother, Diego, leaned over him and shouted to me. “Weren’t you in school for, like, photos or something?”

It was hard to hear them over the roar of their loud engine, but thankfully that obnoxious rumble masked the dull thumping of Mom’s hand. Her tits, half-covered by the door, shook back and forth in tune with her relentless stroking. Thankfully, their car was too low to the ground for them to bear witness to the depraved sight of her tits bouncing back and forth.

I could barely keep my words in line. “How are have— er, sorry. How’s you been?”

The brothers exchanged confused looks, than burst out laughing. “Damn! Are you sure he should be driving, Mrs. P? That boy is drunk!”

The three of them shared a laugh at my expense while I did my best not to audibly grown when Mom’s thumb brushed against my frenulum. She could have stopped, but the smile on her face betrayed just how she was thriving on my torment.

“What have you been up to, bro?” Diego piped up. “Haven’t see you around much; thought maybe you moved.”

Mom jumped in to rescue me, well aware that casual conversation was beyond the scope of my capabilities. Still, she punctuated every one of her words with a tight squeeze. “He’s been studying very hard. Right, honey? Lots of long hours. You know how stiff the competition is.”

The boys shrugged their shoulders, completely ignorant to the obvious euphemisms being waved in their faces. The light turned green, and the Coopers said their goodbyes. There was something along the lines of meeting up for a beer “sometime soon,” but by that point my brain had stopped logging new memories so that it could zero in on the orgasm that Mom was about to pull out of me.

She playfully wagged my dick back and forth, using it to wave goodbye as they finally pulled away. “Say bye now, honey.”

“B-bye, guys!” My voice warbled nervously. As soon as the boys were out of sight, I dropped the charade. “Jesus Christ, Mom. You have to slow down, I’m about to—”

“I know, honey. I can tell.” She then pointed to the set of lights that the Coopers had just blown through. “Can you make it there?”

“Do I have to?”

“Mmhmm,” she insisted, but not without sweetening the pot. “If you do, I’ll let you cum in my mouth! Think you can make it?”

I pressed the gas pedal to the floor so hard that we nearly took off into the sky. Mom was thrown back against her seat with such force that she had to cling to my cock so she would not be thrown out of the car when it reached Mach 5. My mad dash to the finish line ended with the squeal of rubber tires being pushed to their absolute limit. The car had yet to come to a full stop when the first rope of semen burst from the tip.

Mom was waiting to pounce, and did so without a second to spare. Her lips closed around the inflated knob, sealing it inside just in time to contain the spurt of salty glue. She slid her tongue along the underside just as a powerful muscle spasm ejected it down her throat. The impact against the back wall made her gag, but there was no time for her to regain her poise before a second stream – much thicker than the first – flooded her gullet.

She thrust forward, refusing to take a breath, and swallowed my dick until her nose was pressed against my tummy. Her throat convulsed around me, its grip a velvet vice whose strangulation would have made the strongest of warriors fall to their knees.

My vision blurred, making dozens of bright red stoplights drift in and out of frame. I was seeing double, then triple, and eventually could not discern anything through the medley of colourful stars dancing around my head.

I could have been anywhere in the world; it did not matter. Even at the highest peak of the tallest mountain I would have succumbed to the whirlwind of chemicals coursing through my veins. I was convinced fireworks must have been erupting in my skull in such brilliant fashion that both of my eyes had rolled back just so they could watch the show.

Rather than gulp down the previous helping to make room for the next one, Mom patiently stored every drop. She gave a distressed gurgle, struggling to keep the frothy cream contained inside her puffed-out cheeks, but the dam held strong. The mouthful sloshed back and forth, its warmth bathing the head of my cock in a thick coat of glue. She carefully pulled her head back, her lips clinging to the fat, glistening dome as it slipped from between them.

I was so sensitive that the touch of her lips grazing over the head made my legs lock up. She was either transmitting or eliciting an electrical current that I could not help but react to, my muscles seizing up at the mere suggestion that she might dip her head down and plunge me into the depths of her throat once more. She tilted her head back so that nothing would spill out and, without swallowing a drop, choked out, “Aww gah?”

I released a breath of air that had gone stale in my lungs. “All gone, Mom.”

Satisfied with my answer, Mom smiled happily with a tender squeeze on my upper thigh. The reward for her efforts was marinating on her tongue; all that was left for her to do was enjoy it. She kept her head back and, with one massive gulp, entombed an entire generation of my children to the depths of her gurgling stomach. She stuck her tongue out of her mouth and panted with exhaustion as she humbly relished the gift of oxygen that she had once taken for granted.

“Good job, honey,” she said. “You made it to the lights!” To ensure she had not missed a spot, Mom opened the makeup mirror above her head and wiped off the corners of her mouth.

“I almost didn’t make it! You are way too good at that, Mom.” The lights had turned green at some point, and I was thankful that a cop had not pulled up behind us. That would have been hard to explain, and probably a little awkward if he’d asked for identification that would have named us as mother and son.

“Practice makes perfect.” She closed the mirror and blew me a kiss. “Now, young man, are you gonna take me home, or do I still have to convince you?”

I had never tested how quickly our car could accelerate from a parked position, but I broke the land speed record finding out. I aimed to get home as fast as I could, even if that meant crashing through the bay window in our living room to meet the self-imposed deadline. On more than one occasion, Mom had to grab hold of the “holy-shit-bar” when I took a corner too fast, but not once did she tell me to slow down. She knew the stakes, and was likely as excited to get home as I was.

I pulled into the driveway with smoke on my tires.

Mom did not get out of her seat. “Are you going to come open the door for me, young man?”

I leapt out of the car and sped around the front to unlatch her door. She stretched her right leg straight out, spreading it as wide as she could before placing her heel on the pavement. With her thighs parted, the mess of chestnut fur between her legs made it clear that she had removed her underwear once I had exited the car. The hair peeked out from below the hem of her dress, which she had – with great intention – hiked up in an effort to enchant me with a brief glimpse of the treasure I had waited so long to claim.

Mom teased the furry tuft with the tips of her fingers, dragging the tips through the silky tendrils that formed a matted, brown carpet when woven together. “What’s the matter, honey? Pussy-cat got your tongue?”

I extended my hand for her. “Something like that, yeah.”

She placed her hand in mine, but instead of pulling herself out of the car, she slipped into my palm the very pair of underwear that she had been wearing all night. There was a dark, damp stain where the fabric had been pressed against her pussy.

Mom gracefully ascended out of the vehicle and kissed me on the cheek. “Such a gentleman I’ve raised.”

Her claim was refuted by the many voices in my head screaming for me to lift the underwear to my nose and inhale her intoxicating aroma. Thankfully, I kept my degeneracy at bay just long enough for her to turn her back. When she did, I surrendered to my impulses. I closed my eyes and inhaled, basking in the richly scented syrup.

I must have been there for longer than I’d thought, because Mom was already at the front door when her voice broke my trance. “Stopping to smell the roses, are we?”

I stuffed her underwear into my pocket and bolted up the driveway. I was so excited to embrace her that I practically tackled her on the way inside. My arms looped around her tiny frame and pulled her body against mine, matching the intensity with which our mouths eagerly mashed themselves together. We were making out like ravenous teenagers before the door had even closed behind us.

Mom leapt into the air and wrapped her legs around my waist. Instinctively, to keep her supported, my hands shot underneath her to cradle her ass from below. Dough oozed through my fingers, prompting me to dig in as deep as I could. Each of my ten digits sunk in so deep that I imagined my fingernails to be completely eclipsed by her flesh, drawing long creases in her fat, blubbery bottom.

We did not stop making out the entire time I carried her upstairs, which made each step more dangerous than it needed to be. Had I fallen backwards, the night would have taken a drastically different turn, but she was light enough that we made it to the upper landing without a hitch.

Her bare pussy pressed against my stomach, drenching my abdomen in waves of muggy heat. Due to her grinding, her honey soaked through the bottom of my shirt and made the sodden cloth cling to my skin.

We passed my bedroom on the way to Mom’s, prompting her to direct me inside. In between her rabid onslaught of kisses, she muttered, “Camera.”

I carried her into the room, and then over to my desk, where the GoPro lay waiting. She picked it up and tightened the strap around my head, then tilted it so that she was staring right into the lens. “Perfect! Now, take me to bed, handsome.”

I did not need another word of prompting. I readjusted my grip on Mom’s ass and carried her down the hall. Just as we approached the door to her bedroom, she hopped down and instructed me to wait outside. Not willing to waste a second arguing, I hurriedly complied.

She kissed my cheek, and then disappeared into her room with the door closed behind her. The seconds ticked past, each one making me more and more aware of my surroundings. I had stood outside of that very same door as a child, freshly roused from sleep and stricken with nightmares which could only be banished by a mother’s soothing touch. I would climb into her bed to snuggle against her oversized pillows – both the literal and metaphorical ones. It was the safest place in the world for a young boy to be, and the last place that I’d ever expected I would return to in order to lose my virginity.