Incest/Taboo Brushing Mom's Hair

She started making the little sounds I was now familiar with and changed into an accompanying characteristic breathing pattern. She was close, near her orgasm. I sucked her ear into my mouth and felt her cunt flood me with her fluid, triggering my own explosive eruption. I jerked and jerked, convulsing inside her until I had nothing left to give, finally letting go and letting her head fall forward again. She gasped for breath, her dress caught on her hips, legs open, my cum trickling down the inside of one thigh.

Fuck she was so hot. If I could sleep with her, I knew I'd fuck her again before morning. A picture flashed in my head of me waking up and sliding my cock inside her while she was still sleeping, waiting for her eyes to open so I could see her joy at feeling her son's cock inside her again. I needed to get Dad out of town. I had to sleep with Mom. I pulled my sweatpants up and kissed Mom on the back, between her open dress.

"Tomorrow morning," I whispered.

I went to bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a huge hardon. I got up and wandered down the hall to find Mom and Dad's door closed. I pushed but it didn't budge. I pushed harder without further success. Had Mom jammed it with a door stop? Something was blocking it. I gave up and went back to bed.

In the morning, I found Dad alone in the kitchen, drinking his coffee and reading the Saturday paper. He looked up when I came in.

"It's Mother's day tomorrow."

"Yeah?" I responded, getting a bowl out of the cupboard.

"Yeah," Dad replied. "I want you to be extra nice to your mother today. You should braid her hair for her like she asked."

"I was going to do that anyway," I said, pouring some granola with raisins into the bowl.

"That's good. Make sure you tell her it looks great, no matter what."

"I will Dad," I assured him as I opened the fridge to get some milk.

Mom sauntered in while my head was buried in the fridge, saying good morning and adding, in an explanatory tone, "All my shorts are in the laundry."

I almost dropped the milk when I pulled my head out of the fridge. Dad was focused on the paper, spread flat on the table rather than held up with his face in it, and Mom was reaching up to get a box of cereal out of the cupboard above the counter behind me. She was wearing a short, light blue jean skirt with frayed edges. I mean short.

One foot lifted from the floor as Mom strained to reach the cereal, highlighting the muscles in her supporting leg. I didn't help her, I just straightened up and watched her, milk bottle in one hand, fridge door still open.

Mom turned around and took the milk from my hand.

"Thanks," she said.

She poured the cereal in a bowl, got a coffee, added milk to each, and walked outside to have her breakfast on the patio. Belatedly, I poured milk on my granola and put it away before joining Dad at the table.

"You should have said something about how nice she looks."

"What?" I looked at Dad, surprised.

"You should have said something about her legs."

"About Mom's legs?" I said, my voice rising an octave.

"Mm hmm. She does this every once in a while, usually just before her birthday or Mother's day, whenever she's feeling older."

My memory told me Dad was right but I hadn't really noticed it before. But things had changed.

"I've never heard her ..."

"Well, that because she says it to me. She gets all antsy but calms down after few compliments about her hair, or her legs. She works hard on both, you know."

Dad cleared his throat, then went on.

"Women need to feel men's attention though they often profess to spurn it. Your mother's not a buxom woman. A bigger woman would wear a revealing blouse. Women like your mother emphasize other things, like their hair or legs. They all have something and know how to use it, just to get a few glances, to let them know they still have it."

Dad cleared his throat again.

"Your mother has nice legs and hair, so you should say something about them."

Thus, my father imparted his wisdom about women to me.

"But it'll sound weird coming from me," I argued.

"Won't matter," Dad changed to a new page. "A compliment's a compliment. Tell you what. I'll ask her to get my prescription filled and you take her down to the mall to the drug store. She's sure to get a few admiring looks in that skirt, and she'll feel save with you along."

When Mom came in the house, Dad talked her into getting his prescription but he wanted me to so I could check the oil in the car.

"Anyway," he added laughing, as if making joke, "I need someone to protect my interests if you're going to wear a skirt like that."

"I'll get changed then," Mom huffed.

"No no," Dad laughed. "Don't cover up those gorgeous legs. They're really something, aren't they son?"

"Uh yeah, Dad. They really are," I said awkwardly.

"They sure are and I want everyone to know what a lucky guy I am. But you be there to make sure no one bothers your mom."

"I will Dad."

Looking exasperated, Mom walked out of the house. I caught up and we drove to the mall where the closest drug store was located. I noticed that Mom had undone a couple of buttons on the jean shirt she wore to match her skirt, I suppose because it was hot outside in the sun, but she had forgotten to do them back up. I wasn't about to remind her, thinking her chest looked pretty good this morning. She must be wearing one of those push-up bras.

As we walked through the mall, Mom did garner a few looks from passing men but Mom ignored them and simply increased her business-like pace. She didn't do anything I could see to attract attention to herself. I guess she wasn't as keen to show off her wares as Dad thought. In the drug store, we walked straight to the back counter to place our order. There was one older man sitting in the little U-shaped waiting area, waiting for his prescription. His head rose when Mom walked by him and his eyes fixed on her bare legs and short skirt, landing on her ass. He didn't see me at first but only glanced away from Mom for a second when he did. He wasn't shy.

I sat in a chair opposite the old man and watched him look at Mom. I couldn't blame him, she did look sexy. After placing her order, Mom sat beside me, legs held demurely together. The old fella's eyes followed her all the way to her chair and locked onto her slender legs.

"You've got a fan, just like Dad said," I whispered to Mom.

Mom nodded, seeming a bit annoyed.

"Poor old guy, probably doesn't get to look at legs like yours often," I said. "He probably has to rent dirty movies."

Mom laughed out loud. "No doubt," she said, looking at me, eyes sparkling.

A funny look flashed over her face. She raised her right foot and crossed it over her left knee toward me, her eyes holding mine and she let her leg fall snugly onto the other.

"Did your father say I should let the guys see what a lucky man he is?" she asked, eyes glinting.

I nodded and Mom raised her right leg and pulled it to the side until just its ankle was resting on the other knee, opening her thighs to provide a shocking view for the older man. Mom's eyes were intent on mine, as if she was unaware that the stranger must be able to see not just her legs but her panties too. She held that pose until the pharmacist approached the counter and called our name.

The old fellow followed her legs all the way to the counter. I stood and walked over to stand by Mom, leaving a clear line of sight for the old guy. When the pharmacist took Mom's credit card to process it, I put my hand possessively on Mom's skirt, directly over her right buttock.

In the car, Mom burst out laughing. "That was a riot," she roared, slapping her thighs and leaning back in the seat, covering her eyes with one hand. "Oh, I was so bad. I gave him such a view."

Mom opened her legs wide, replaying her saucy action. I looked down at her dark blue panties, covered with a lacy, flowered design. No wonder he hadn't looked away. The panties were molded to her prominent pussy mound so tightly that there was a distinctive line, slightly dipped in, marking the meeting of her pussy lips.

Mom's laughing stopped and I was aware of her hand pulling away from her now questioning eyes.

"Do you think he could see the pretty design?" I asked.

"You mean this one?" Mom opened her thighs wider and pulled her skirt higher.

"Yeah," my voice lowered to a husky whisper.

"I don't know. Can you see it from that far away?"

I leaned toward Mom, resting my elbow on the middle of the seat, twisting to get past the steering wheel. Mom shifted her hips so she was pointing more toward the middle of the car and pushed her left knee against the back of the seat.

"Is that some kind of flower?" I asked, leaning over, my face hovering above her thighs.

"Yes," Mom husked.

"What kind?" I stretched to get my face closer to her panties.

"Pussy willow," Mom panted.

"Aren't they soft?" I asked as Mom's fingers threaded through the hair on the back of my head.

"Yes."

I pushed Mom's left leg higher so I could get closer.

"Really soft?"

"See for yourself."

I stuck out my tongue and let it taste Mom's blue panties. Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling me closer, mashing my mouth against her panties. I pushed my tongue out as far as I could and dragged it up her pussy until it was flattened over her mound. I shook my head sideways and rubbed my tongue over her puffiness but soon traced a circular path around its edge, kind of like I was cranking a small engine ... spin ... pause ... spin ... pause. Mom's panties became wet from her juice and my saliva. My wiggling tongue had inserted itself between her lips, surrounding by my mouth, when she first cried out.

"Oh god. Michael, Michael," she cried, pulling me hard with her hand and thrusting her cunt against my face in a rapid series of facefucks.

"Uhhh ... uhhhh ... unnnnghhhh ... unnngghhhh."

Her hand slowly loosened, allowing me to pull my head back. She was lying against the door, eyes closed, a sated expression on her. Cautiously, I raised my head a little higher and looked around over the seat and the dash and then behind me over the door. People were bustling around, to and from their cars, pushing carts, carrying packages ... all busy with what they were doing. Nobody was paying attention to us, even the person walking behind our car. I was glad now that I hadn't been able to park closer, though I'd been a little upset that we'd had to walk so far.

I looked down at Mom's still spread legs, thighs wide apart, skirt pushed to her hips, dark blue panties soaking wet. I pushed Mom's legs together and toward the front. She bent her knees and slumped in the seat to make it easier for me to turn her, or maybe because she wanted to slink down in the seat to hide since she kept her face tucked down, chin on her chest.

At first, she didn't resist when I continued turning her, tugging her shoulders to twist her back toward me, but she did when I began pulling her down to the seat.

"What are you doing?" her eyes opened as I pushed her shoulders to force her hips closer to the door.

"Shhhhh," I whispered, pushing her down, her head now lower than the back of the seat, hiding her presence to anyone that wasn't standing right beside us. Though she looked around, she didn't try to sit up and she lifted her hips and bent her legs so she could fit on the seat lying on her back.

"Michael, what are you ..."

"Shhhhh, Mom. Stay still."

Mom was craning her neck to look up and back at me as I lifted my right knee onto the seat, leaning over her. Comprehension formed on her face as she saw my open shorts. She shook her head.

"No Michael. No."

I pulled my jockeys down, letting my cock spring out, long and hard.

"People will see," Mom protested, her eyes almost crossed as they focused on the cock she had made so hard.

"No they won't," I cried, the desperation clear in my voice as I hunched over her stomach, hiding below the seat and trying to angle my cock onto her mouth, my hand slipping under her neck and lifting slightly to tip her face my way. "Please," I gasped. "I need you."

Mom's head was still shaking but her hand suddenly appeared between us and grasped my cock. I almost let go at the touch of her soft fingers. I watched, looking along her denim shirt as her hand slowly pulled my stiff member down, toward her face, onto her lips. She paused there for a second, twisting her neck to brush her lips across the bottom of my tip, then arched her neck and pushed her head up, enveloping my cock in her soft warm mouth.

"Ahhhhhhh," I cried, stunned by the exquisite feeling of her wet mouth pushing up my shaft, unable to restrain my hips from an answering shove. I pulled out and shoved in again, slowly.

"Ahhhhhhh, Mom ... fuck ... fuck," I cried, humping gently in and out of her mouth as she held her head twisted back at a constant angle to make it easier for me.

I wish I could say I lasted a manly long time but that would be a lie. I didn't. Not much longer than it took to describe what happened, I unloaded a steady stream of cum into Mom's mouth, which closed tightly around my shaft, her body convulsing as she swallowed several times in quick succession as my fluid forced its way past her tonsils. I collapsed on top of her, my face falling between her legs, mouth pressed against her wet panties, nose aligned with her vertical crevice as my cock softened and eventually slipped from her face. Slowly, groggily, we struggled apart and sat up, each of us arranging our clothing properly, not looking at each other.

After a few minutes, Mom looked at me and said, "We'd better get home. Dad will be waiting for his pills."

"Yeah," I replied, starting the car and backing out of our spot. As I drove out of the parking lot, I asked Mom, "What are the pills for anyway?" thinking I should talk about anything but what just happened.

"They help him calm down. The doctor told him months ago not to get too excited. He doesn't want you to know, that's why he wanted me to get the prescription."

"They're like a sedative?" I asked.

"Yes. He takes one a day during the week at work and an extra one at night. They help him sleep."

"They make him sleepy?"

"Yes."

"He doesn't take them at home on the weekends, except at night?"

"No. He only takes them in the day at work because of the stress."

"So he just wants these for tonight?"

"That's right."

"Can you put one in his lunch when we get home?"

There was a long pause.

We were driving down the street now. I looked over at Mom. She was sitting slightly slumped, hands held together in her lap keeping her short jean skirt pushed between her thighs to cover her wet panties.

"Will you give Dad a pill?" I repeated.

I was about to say it again, thinking she hadn't heard me, when she answered in a low voice.

"Yes."

Mom lifted her head then but she turned to look out the window. We drove home in silence.

I tried to follow Mom up the walk but she was too quick and was already near the top of the stairs by the time I got through the door. Dad had just come into the kitchen from the backyard and glanced at Mom as she disappeared down the hallway, pulling a gardening glove off his hand. He shook his head and looked at me.

"I take it you weren't able to stave off the looky-loos."

"Just one old guy, Dad, but he was pretty persistent. Didn't say anything, but he kept staring."

"Yup," Dad said. "That would do it. That's part of the price when you have legs like that. She likes the admirers when she's in the mood for it but the oglers put her off."

"I don't think she's upset, Dad. The old guy didn't seem to bother her much. She just felt sorry for him."

"Oh?," Dad looked up the stairs again. "Then ...,"

"I think she spilled something on her skirt," I said, explaining her headlong rush upstairs.

"Oh. Well, let's you and I get lunch started."

We were busy in the kitchen mucking up lunch when Mom came in telling us to stop making a mess of everything and to go outside, that she'd bring lunch out into the yard when it was ready. I wanted to stay but she shooed me out the door with Dad but not before Dad said something about her spilling on herself, pointing at her skirt, adding that he wasn't the only one that made a mess of things. Mom just looked at him oddly as he made his escape while I paused to admire her new outfit, a light cotton, short-sleeved blouse tied under her breasts and a white, pleated tennis skirt not much longer than the jean skirt she'd worn this morning.

Talking to Dad, I kept wondering if Mom would remember about Dad's pill and whether or not she would actually give it to him. Her headlong rush up the stairs made me think she was having second thoughts. After all, that was a pretty wild and dangerous thing we'd done at the mall.

Lunch arrived on a big tray complete with tall glasses of fresh lemonade, a specialty of Mom's. I was thirsty and grabbed one as soon as Mom set the tray down despite Mom trying to bat my hand away. I took a big gulp and screwed my face up; it wasn't as sweet as usual. Mom noticed and took the glass from me, handing it to Dad.

"You got Dad's," she said, then explained, "I always put a little sugar in yours."

Lunch was alternating chit-chat and munching, almost all munching for me. The only interesting part was when Dad asked me if I was going to braid Mom's hair this afternoon. I nodded in affirmation but Mom said that was for tonight. That was a little disappointing. After a while, the chit-chat died down and we all sat enjoying the sun and sitting back in our chairs, Dad and I in the two, classic wooden seats joined by a mutually shared table while Mom sat across from us in the cushioned lounge.

Part of the reason I had been quiet was the attraction of Mom's legs. I had grown ... perhaps a poor choice of words ... a new appreciation of Mom's legs after trailing around behind her in that jean skirt and this looser, pleated job had very real merits of its own. As Mom talked to Dad and nibbled on her sandwich, she pulled one leg up higher on the lounge, allowing me to see the back of that thigh. This was the view the old guy must have enjoyed. Despite the fact that I'd had my face buried right in there only an hour ago, the sight was still exciting.

"Hmmm, I'm not as hungry as I thought I'd be," Dad commented, putting the last part of his sandwich down on his plate beside me. "Sorry dear," he apologized.

"Just drink your lemonade then. You don't want to get dehydrated in this sun."

Dad dutifully picked up his glass and took a huge drink, leaving less than an inch in the bottom, set it down and closed his eyes. "It's so beautiful out," he sighed. "Summer's been a long time coming this year."

Mom didn't answer. I expected her to stretch out and close her eyes too but she continued to watch Dad, a small smile on her face.

I opened my mouth to speak, just to fill the void, but Mom waved me off, so I just sat back and waited. After a minute, I succumbed to the effect of the sun and closed my eyes too.

I opened my eyes with a start and tried to lift my head but it was too heavy. I must have dozed off because I had that feeling of waking from a deep sleep though my slitted eyes told me it couldn't have been more than a few minutes because Mom was still sitting in the lounge across from me. The only thing that was different was that she had kicked off her sandals and was propping both bent legs up with bare feet. It was very hot and still, except for the sound of birds singing and flitting through the trees.

Mom was looking at me now instead of Dad. I kept still, watching through slitted eyes to see if she knew I was awake but there was no indication. Her knees swayed from side to side, legs tightly together. Still, I could briefly see the backs of both thighs as her calves passed back and forth in front of them. It was several passes before my brain twigged to something my eyes must have noticed right away ... I couldn't see any panties. I should have been able to see them along the bottom of each leg, joining to form a strip to rise up and disappear between her thighs, but there was nothing. As I tried to strain my eyes to see better without opening them, Mom flattened her legs out and stretched them, tightly together, along the lounge. Bummer.

I kept watching her, not moving a muscle because she was still looking my way. Her hands raised languidly above her chest, still resting on her elbows beside her, and began toying with the knot that tied her blouse together. Mom tugged at the ends and slowly, slowly, the knot loosened. I wanted to turn my head to see what Dad was doing. I knew he was there because I could see his feet at the bottom of my field of vision. He must have dozed off like I had but he had to be still out if Mom was doing this with me there.

Mom must have put his pill in the lemonade. That would explain why I had conked out after taking a big drink of the glass Mom had explained wasn't mine. Would Dad wake up too? Should I warn Mom that I was awake? Mom finished undoing the knot and pulled her shirt apart. I decided to wait for a few more minutes.

Mom's fingertips trailed up her chest along the divide she had just opened in her blouse, widening the gap between the sides, reversing direction to travel back down, opening the blouse even further. She watched me as she repeated this twice more until her tits were bare, small swells of flesh rising from her chest capped by long and thick nipples. Mom smiled, then pulled her feet up and bent her knees, keeping her retracting legs out to the sides so my view of her breasts wasn't obscured. After pulling her feet up, pressed together sole to sole all the way to the bottom of her thighs, she slowly pushed them back, straightening her legs but this time letting her feet move apart, edging them part way down the sides of the lounge cushion.

Mom's legs were open now and I could clearly see that she wasn't wearing any panties at all, her lightly haired muff plain to see, legs spread wide enough to open a pink slit between her nether lips. Her smile widened and I knew then she was aware that I was watching.

Just then, Dad snorted! Mom's legs snapped shut and her hands quickly pushed her blouse together as she sprung to a sitting position, pulling her legs up and crossing them to hide the position of her skirt. I could feel Dad moving on his side of our joined chair. I opened my eyes and sat up too, looking over at Dad, surprised to see his eyes still closed. He had only changed his position.

I looked at Mom. Our eyes met and we laughed, quietly, nervously. Mom looked like a cutout from an erotic fashion magazine. She was sitting hunched forward with her arms around her knees, lower legs held tightly together with one foot crossed over the other, and long reddish hair cascading over both arms and legs. Although you couldn't see it, you had the impression her shirt was open.

One thing was open, though I don't think Mom knew it, especially given she was trying to cover up because she thought Dad was waking up. Her pussy. A thatch of hair was peeking out below her crossed ankles. Mom probably thought I was admiring her legs but it was her bare pussy that captured my attention. I remembered the feel of it on my tongue that afternoon, at least, the feel of it under her panties. And the smell. I could detect that faint aroma in the summer air.

I looked back at Dad and then at the glass of lemonade beside him, reached over to grasp it and tipped it my way, pointedly looking at the bottom of the nearly empty glass. I looked back at Mom and she smiled, as if we were sharing a secret. I stood and stepped toward Mom until I was standing in front of the lounge she was sitting on. She turned up to look at me and I noticed her eyes fix briefly on the large bulge she had created under my shorts. I reached down to brush the hair away from her face.

I leaned over a bit so I could put my hands on her knees, applying gentle pressure to urge them apart. Slowly, Mom's arms loosened and fell away, allowing her knees to part, and then widen. I spread them further and further until her shirt fell open, exposing her tits, but my eyes traveled down, past her open shirt to the bare pussy they had been loving before Dad's precipitous snort. Mom's eyes, still looking at me, knew what mine were looking at.

I shuffled closer, almost touching her with my bulging shorts. Eyes staying on mine, Mom's fingers found the front of my thighs and slid up, lightly brushing over my lump, and released my cock from its prison, laughing as it sprang free and capturing it in her delicate little hand. She tipped her head back further and laid my bare cock on her upturned face, across her lips and along her nose, using her soft fingers to press it against her flaring nostrils, rubbing it back and forth.

I grabbed a handful of hair on either side of Mom's face and walked slowly forward, legs wide and waddling up the side of the lounge, leaning Mom back and following her down, keeping my cock on her face. Her eyes laughed at me all the way until her back was pressed against the slightly raised lounge cushion. That's when I drew back until my cock head rested on her lips and she opened her mouth, inviting me inside. I slid home.

Oh god, that wonderful mouth of hers. Such an incredible feeling. Mom didn't close her eyes. I could see she loved what she was doing to me, so apparent in the almost pained ecstasy etched on my face. I began to move. Hardly at all, at first, but then more and more, eventually pushing too much inside so that she gagged and I had to pause while she recovered, waving that she was ok and pulling my cock back in when she was ready.

My thighs burned with the strain of squatting over her like that, dipping my cock in for a dozen thrusts and then waiting while she coughed. Her mouth became wetter and wetter and the gag pauses less frequent, farther apart, until I was steadily fucking her mouth. I remember thinking that this was what heaven must be like, and that made me think about how natural this was. In medieval times, in small rural villages or out on the farms, this must have been common. After a day in the fields, the older son must have been allowed to have a turn with what may have been the only pussy around. This wasn't wrong, I thought as my cock squelched in and out of Mom's saliva-filled mouth. And it was my right.

That spiritual revelation triggered a religious experience. I began spewing my seed into Mom's mouth which, already half filled with saliva and cock, quickly overflowed, spilling out over her lips and running down her cheeks and chin. I pulled out, afraid of drowning her, and let the last couple of strings burst over her face, though thankfully not in her precious hair.

Mom struggled to swallow but she did manage it. She spoke to me then, but not angrily like I had expected. I leaned down to hear her better.

"Lick it off," she said. Though confused at first, I quickly realized what she wanted and proceeded to lick my own cum off Mom's face, depositing it into her open mouth. I could scrape it up with my tongue but I couldn't bring myself to swallow it. I licked her face until it was clean, pushing my tongue in her mouth for longer and longer kisses but she pushed me away.

Or, should I say, down. Mom's hands pressed on my shoulders, guiding me. If that wasn't signal enough, she provided further direction.

"My turn," she whispered hoarsely.

I obliged. I pushed her skirt up high and buried my face between her legs, stretching my feet out behind me and onto the patio. I didn't waste time, I dug my tongue into her cunt, vigorously wiggling it around, then pulled out and lapped her all around her lips and up and down her slit, then dug in for some more. I kept doing that for a long time, until her legs were writhing and her hands clutched my head in a vice grip. Then I pulled my face up and started gently teasing her clit, licking gently, nibbling and tugging with my lips, licking again, pushing my fingers inside her pussy, finding the pink hole and slowly finger grinding her while I teased the living fuck out of her clit.

I was pleased that she didn't last any longer than I did and I learned how erotic it was for her to let me come on her face and then feel me lick myself off of her, learned by her drenching my face and then pulling me up to lick herself from me with her teasing little tongue.

We were relieved to find Dad still out when we finally remembered he was behind us. Mom told me to go upstairs and she would wake him. I held her for one last kiss, standing behind Dad's chair, my hand reaching down to cup her bare ass under her skirt, fingers pushing between her cheeks and reaching down for her pussy but only managing to rub over her asshole.

"I need to fuck you," I rasped desperately in her ear.

"No," she gasped, pushing me away hard. "That's for night time."

Reluctantly, I went. I was pleased with the new division of day and night time activities. My young cock was already stirring as my thoughts turned toward the evening. Another night away from my friends. I was turning into a real momma's boy.
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