Chapter 1

Mom had invited me to go to Martinique with her for the Christmas holiday.

I knew it was just because she had already bought the tickets before splitting up with her latest toy boy, but the thought of getting away from the snowbound university was terribly appealing. And it would be good to spend some time with my mother. I didn’t see her enough since she split up with my father 10 years ago.

Everything is completely booked down there in that season, so we couldn’t get a second room. Nonetheless, we both had a great time. For the first week I was enjoying myself with an Italian housewife on “A holiday from her husband and children”. Mom had picked up a very nice looking man in his early 30s. I found it slightly kinky that my girlfriend was older than Mom’s boyfriend.

It was all perfect until the plane that should’ve carried us back home failed on the runway.

By the time the airline finally admitted defeat we’d been cooped up in there for hours. There was a shortage of hotels on the island, and by the time we got to the one they had found for us we were completely exhausted.

When the hotel clerk announced “Mr. and Mrs. James; room 108.” We didn’t bother to correct him; we just took the key and went up. It was a small room, with a double bed. Not a huge double bed, either.

My mom was never one to be too uptight about things; we both stripped down to our underwear, climbed in, and fell asleep in short order. That’s when the trouble started.

I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t feel very self-conscious about being in bed with my mother. I should probably say here at my mother is a very sexy woman of about 45 years. To be in close proximity with her was to feel her sexual aura; that can be a little bit disturbing if you happen to be her son. It had never been a problem before, but I’m not going to pretend that forbidden thoughts and images had never come to my mind.

I had a dream; I was kissing my mother, romantically. Her hands were all over my body, she was pulling on my penis; she was giving me head. Even in my dream, I was conflicted about it all. But like you do in dreams, I went ahead with it anyway.

My mother is an aerobics nut, and her slim muscular body shows the benefit; I was holding her tightly, kissing the nipples of her small but still full breasts. I woke up. I was lying on my back; my cock was hard as a rock, half of it sticking up through the waistband of my underwear.

Mom was snoring loudly, her head in the crook of my right arm, her right thigh hooked over mine, and her hand on my penis. For real.

It was pretty confusing; the realization that this was actually happening. I was afraid if I moved she would wake up, and that would be incredibly embarrassing to us both. Not just because her hand had found her own son’s cock; but because her son’s cock was achingly hard at her touch.

So I lay silent and still, enjoying the sexual stimulation and trying to figure out a way to stop enjoying it. I supposed she would just roll over after a while, and I could consign this little episode to the deepest, most secret sexual fantasy area of my memory.

“How long have you been awake?” My mother asked me suddenly. I hadn’t even realized that the snoring had stopped.

I didn’t move, and neither did she. Her hand was still on my penis. My penis was still erect. “A few minutes.” I answered her.

“This is interesting.” Mom observed.

“You think so?” I asked.

“Definitely.” She replied.

Jesus, I couldn’t believe it. Mom had had a lot of boyfriends, some of them much younger than herself. She always dressed and looked perfect; she never had any trouble picking up any man she chose. It had bothered me sometimes, but I’d become used to it. But this; I never expected anything like this.

“The last taboo.” She said; “Incest. Far out.”

“Maybe you’d better let go, mom.” I suggested.

“Really? Why? It seems to me you’re enjoying it.” She said.

“Are you?” I asked.

“Yes.” She replied, “I didn’t plan this, Marty.”

“I know you’re pretty devious, mom, but I didn’t think you could arrange for a plane to break down.”

“Do you think we should do it?” She asked me.

“God damn, mom; you’re a shrink. How can you ask me a question like that?”

“Psychologist, dear. I’m a psychologist. And that’s exactly how I can ask you a question like that.” Her hand was no longer static; she was pulling my prick gently between her thumb and fingers, rolling it and stimulating it, testing it for firmness.

“Do you know of any reason why we shouldn’t?” She continued, “It’s all just dogma, this idea about incest. As long as we don’t make babies, what harm does it do?”

“I-I don’t know. But it couldn’t be healthy.” I said.

“But it could be great fun.” Mom continued, “You sure seem to like it. No one would ever know, never.”

My mother’s mouth while speaking these words was coming closer and closer to mine; as her sentence finished, there was contact; it was somehow more intimate, more final, than her hand that was still sliding around on my sexual organ.

It was hesitant and unsure, that first kiss. But as no thunder sounded, no lightning struck, it continued to grow in its confidence; soon my mother’s lips were sliding across mine, her teeth were griping the edges of my mouth.

It was a normal thing for me to hug and kiss my mother; but not on the lips, not in bed, and not with her tongue sneaking into my mouth and her hand on my cock.

“My God, this is incredible.” Mom said, “I haven’t been this excited in years. What are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure. This is really weird.” I said.

Her thin but strong body was against mine, her full breasts were pressing into my chest; her free hand was behind my neck, and her mouth came to mine again. Of their own accord, my hands slid over her body; her slim curvy hips, her well toned little ass. Mom’s skin was smooth, silky to the touch.

“We’re so dirty.” She said.

“Then perhaps we should stop.” I suggested again.

“Let’s have a bath.” She said, “It’s been a hot and sweaty 24 hours. Let’s have a bath and fool around.”

There wasn’t much I could do to eliminate my raging hard on. While the bath filled, my mother kneeled between my spread legs, toying with my genitals.

“What do you feel?” She asked me again.

“Conflict.” I replied.

“Go on.”

“I’m turned on, but everything I’ve ever been taught is screaming at me that I shouldn’t be.”

“Let’s see if we can throw away all that Christian guilt culture.” My mother suggested. “Let’s just be natural.”

“You think this is natural?” I asked.

“I don’t know. There’s lots of debate about what’s natural.” My mother said, before lowering her head over my penis.

Natural or not, it was impossible to deny how good it felt; a warm friendly mouth on my dick is the most wonderful thing; I wondered if it being my mother made the sensation better or worse.

“Yuck, that’s disgusting.” My mother said, and I thought that perhaps this little experiment was at an end. “You’re all sticky. Let’s have that bath, then try it again.” She said.

We lay together in the bathtub, our asses in contact, her feet on my shoulders, and mine against her breasts. The hot water did nothing to lower my libido, and neither did my mother’s continuing manual stimulation to my cock and balls.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a bath together, Marty.” Mom laughed, as my toes scraped over her stiff nipple. So strange to think that I’d been nourished by that nipple once.

It was unbelievable that a person, a mother, would want to do something like this. Well, it was unbelievable that a person would ADMIT to wanting to do something like this. And yet, somehow here we were; calmly heading towards sex. Indeed, it was sex already. I hadn’t put it in her yet, but if this wasn’t sex, then I don’t know what it was.