Chapter 1

Our flight home was delayed because of the thunderstorm that clattered and shook the small terminal. I glanced around at the few people waiting for this last flight out. They were a bedraggled group, tossed together by the vicissitudes of Mother Nature. Some tried to sleep, twisting and turning uncomfortably in the "airport chic" chairs. Others made idle chit chat with their fellow castaways on this modern desert island. Behind the check in counter a buxom blond did desultory things to kill time until this last flight of the night ended her shift.

My name is Sam Albertson. I am traveling home after attending my grandmother's funeral. My mom, Jamie, and dad, John, had dragged me along. Even though I never met my grandmother they felt family needed to be there. At 18 I thought it was very unfair to drag me across country to a funeral for a woman I knew little about.

The service was interminable. It seemed everyone in town wanted say a remembrance. Near the front of the church was a large stained glass window. Some saint or other was depicted with his hands raised in benediction. Or maybe he was expressing horror at the banalities of life that he had to witness.

Mom and dad were getting drunk in the small terminal bar. Mom was 45 and dad was 47. Mom was a full figured woman and fairly tall at 5' 9", about 200 lbs. I had sneaked a peek in her lingerie drawer and knew she was a 38D cup. When I entered puberty she had move from this pleasantly plump authority figure to a voluptuous sex symbol. That big tit, big booty woman was the imagine I held in my mind when whacked off nightly.

Dad was a short stout guy at about 5' 8", 220 or so. He was a successful business owner and a good provider for his family. We lived a comfortable if not extravagant existence. I loved/resented him.

I loved him because he was a stern but loving symbol of stability. He provided an effective image of manhood for me to emulate.

I resented him because each night he crawled in bed with the object of my teenage lust. I resent hearing the faint moans and squeals he drew from her with their sex play.

Neither of them knew that on their noisier nights I would press my sweating brow against the common wall of our bedrooms. I would listen to the whispered endearments. I would hear the staccato slapping of flesh on flesh. I would stroke my tumescent member frantically, matching their rhythm. As their tempo built to the inevitable climax, so did mine. As dad spurted his seed into mom, I spurted mine into a pair of her soiled panties I had filched from the hamper.

Now they sat pounding down drink after drink. Their heads were close together, Dad would whisper something in mom's ear. She would titter like a school girl who had a lewd suggestion made to her. The type of suggestion that at one time excited and frightened her.

Mom's button up the front flowered summer dress fell between her legs as she sat wide legged at the bar. Dad's hand was on her thigh. I had seen them like this before, drunk and touchy feely. At home it meant that I should take up position at my voyeur post. Here it was just fucking embarrassing.

Some of our fellow castaways noticed also. Some smiled knowingly. Others frowned at the public display of sexual sentiment.

Once I had crept into the hall during their lovemaking. I had planned on peeking into the bedroom. Just listening was no longer enough. I eased my door open. The hall was dimly lit by the house exterior lights.

I was stunned to see mom walk out of the bedroom stark naked. Her pendulous breast swayed invitingly as she crossed the hall to the bathroom. My dick sprang rigidly to attention.

She was holding a towel between her legs. She walked wide legged, unaware that her son was watching this erotic display of sex's aftermath.

I was confused at first. Then I realized she was holding dad's cum in her pussy. She made her way wide legged into the bathroom. It sat in a small alcove across from their room.

I could barely breathe. I slipped quietly down the hall. Stealthily I peered into the bathroom.

Mom had her back to me. One leg was on the closed lid of the toilet. She balanced herself with a hand against the wall. She had a wet towel. She was washing her pussy, cleaning out the remnants of tonight's sex. She swayed slightly as she performed this post sex ablution. She dropped both towels into the hamper.

I held my aching cock in my hand. I watched as she used both hands to smooth her pussy hair. It was short but well-trimmed. Then she ran her finger in her pussy, pulled it out and licked it.

I groaned as I spontaneously came, spilling my youthful seed on the hallway floor. Gasping, I leaned against the wall to support myself.

Mom's head cocked slightly. Had she heard me? I scurried down the hall to my room. I barely made it back before I heard her padding barefoot across the hall. I listened as the door closed followed by the squeak of the bed as she returned to the side of my father. Then silence.

I lay in bed sweating profusely. My dick was still granite hard. My heart was in my mouth. The metallic taste of adrenaline filled my mouth. The thrill of seeing her, the nearness of almost being caught was almost more than I could stand. My heart pounded wildly.

But I knew there was one more trip I had to make. On catlike feet I tip toed down the hall. I turned quickly into the bathroom and closed the door. The hamper would hold my prize.

I opened the hamper. There they were on top. The cum soaked towel she had held between her legs and the wet towel she had washed with. The wet towel barely held the scent I wanted it. But the dry towel took me to nirvana.

It was still damp with mom's and dad's sex juice. I took it to my nose and inhaled deeply. The pungent aroma of mom's pussy and dad's seed filled my nasal passages. I was a little light headed. With one hand I balanced myself on the wall. There was a pain in my dick from being so hard so long. It slapped gently against my belly.

Impulsively I stuffed the wet crusty part of the towel in my mouth. I sucked hard on their mixed juices. The sweet nectar assaulted my senses. The room spun as I greedily sucked on my prize.

In my other hand was the wet towel. I began to stroke my steel like member using the wet towel. I sucked hungrily on the towel in my mouth. All too soon I felt the tingle in my ass that moved up into my balls. My orgasm took me to my knees. I was drained, exhausted and covered in a heavy film of sweat.

Weakly I braced myself against the toilet and struggled to my feet. I chewed hard on the towel in my mouth, extracting the last vestiges of honey. Reluctantly I removed the towel from my mouth. I returned my prizes to the hamper.

Many nights I had whacked off to the sounds of their lovemaking. I had grown skilled at finding mom's panties from those nights. Sometimes dad fucked her without her taking them off. I would inhale deeply, reveling in the smell of wet pussy and semen. Then I would add my sperm to the load dad had left. But this had been the best ever!

I didn't know it then but years later I would read an article that said sons always lust for their mothers. Most men spend their lives looking for a woman who remind them of mom so they can fuck her. The article went on to say the king in Oedipus Rex didn't really make a mistake when he took his mother for his queen. He was fulfilling the subconscious need to outdo his father and possess his mom.

I don't know about all that shit. I knew I had to fuck my mother.

From my vantage point, I could see dad run his hand under mom's dress. She giggled and made him stop. My dick hurt from being constrained in my jockey's as I watched their sex play.

Fortunately they called our flight. It was well past midnight. The plane was a 727, the workhorse of the airlines in those days. We had scored the exit row seats. On a 727 that meant tons of legroom in the three across seats. The flight was barely a third full. The seats all around us were empty.

Mom took the window seat; dad the middle. I was stuck on the aisle.

Shortly after takeoff, the flight attendant passed out blankets. She apologized for the delay and announced they were dimming the lights to allow the passengers to sleep. I dozed off. When I awoke mom and dad were gone. I needed to pee and went aft to the bathroom. As I entered one bathroom, dad exited the other. He was obviously drunk and barely able to walk. He never noticed me. I watched as he staggered drunkenly up the aisle to our seats.

When I returned to our seats, dad was covered head to toe in a blanket and snoring loudly. He was in my aisle seat. I slipped into the middle seat, pulled my blanket over me and dozed back off.

I felt someone shaking me. I realized that my mom had returned to her seat.

"Wake up, John, she hissed, I want to play!"

I opened my mouth to correct her. I stopped. I realized that she thought it was my father. The semi darkness, the change in seats and her drunken state caused her error.

"John, wake up. You said we were going to join the five mile high club!"

I could hear the frustration in her voice.

"I took my panties off, she hissed!"

I broke into a light sweat. Did I dare? Had the gods of incest conspired to offer me this gift?

I reached over and lightly squeezed her ass. She wiggled it deliciously. She went to speak and I shushed her. I couldn't let her talk. That would start a conversation and "dad" would be expected to answer.

I reached down and slowly pulled mom's dress up. I was sweating profusely. My heart beat like a trip hammer in my chest. What if she realized it was me? What if dad woke up? You scared bastard, I said to myself. What if the fucking plane crashed while you are dealing with what ifs!