Incest/Taboo Carnal Corps

We did so. I ran my fingers over my legs and undergarments. Ross watched. His voice took on an husky tone; his tongue slid along his lips. When we were done I praised him and suggested a second read through.

"Sure Mom."

"Call me slut."

"Mom..."

"Call me slut."

"Yes," a moment's hesitation, "slut."

"Good, now slide over. This time I want you to run your fingers on my stockings and garters."

"Mom!"

I gave him a hard look.

"Slut, I can't play with your underwear." He had said "slut," but the tone said "Mom."

"All you'll be doing is touching my thighs. You've done it a million times. It's no big deal, but you need to get in character. I know its hard, but you were offered this role because it is hard. So slide over and enjoy my lingerie, I wore it for you."

We started again. I took his hand in mine, ran his fingers along my garters, around the hem of a stocking. When I let go Ross, haltingly, took the initiative. When we reached the highway I set the car on cruise control and spread my legs. When he did not react I took hold of his wrist and moved his hand between my thighs. I felt a spasm in my sex; I groaned. Ross began to caress my skin, his touch gentle. It was also working, he was delivering his lines with burgeoning sexual desire. I looked to his lap. He was hard. We finished a highway exit before our own.

"Son, that was wonderful."

"Thanks Mom, I think I'm finally getting it."

It was time for the second idea I'd devised the night before. I would make our rehearsals private, something to be hidden and so a bit wicked, a bit dirty.

"Yes son, you're doing great, but, y'know, I was thinking, we should probably keep these rehearsals to ourselves. Your Dad doesn't get theater. He wouldn't understand. They should be our private thing."

Ross, unused to conspiring against his father, took a moment to respond. "Sure Mom," then, on further thought, added, "Yeah, just us."

When we got home Ross went to a friend's house. I went upstairs to shower, bringing myself to an orgasm. When I got out of the shower I was still horny. I thought about how I used to welcome my husband home dressed in sexy lingerie. I called Alex, made sure he'd be home for dinner, put on a lacy shelf bra, garters, panties, the stockings with the seam that ran down the back of my leg, finishing off with a short skirt and stiletto heels.

Ross got home first. He walked into the kitchen, took a long look at me, and assuming I was in character, said, "Fucking hot." There was a twinge between my legs. Alex, minutes behind his son, kissed me and, after an appreciative glance, said, "What kind of mood are we in?"

"Take me upstairs and find out."
​

* * * *​

We were cleaning up after dinner when Alex's phone went off. He checked the caller, grimaced, texted that he'd call right back.

"Emergency at the office, thought it could wait til tomorrow. It'll take about an hour. I'll take the call in my office."

"Okay dear."

As I watched him disappear down the hall I figured why waste the opportunity. Turning to Ross, undoing two buttons of my blouse to reveal a healthy expanse of breast, I said, "Whatta ya say to a quick rehearsal?"

Ross immediately slipped into character. He looked at my chest, not bothering to disguise his admiration.

"You like my tits?"

"Yeah."

On the back porch I let my skirt slide up my leg, revealing the garters and stockings. I leaned forward, displaying my chest, and asked Ross to undo another button on my shirt. When his trembling hands brushed my breasts I gasped; my nipples stiffened. We began. We'd both memorized the script and, our hands free, I explored his arm and chest, stroked his thighs. Ross started slowly, but was soon caressing my torso, the top and inside of my thighs. He was hard and I, who'd started the evening horny, smoldered. I needed to be fucked.

When done we both stood. My legs were shaky. Ross's eyes were fixed on my chest, which was rising and falling with each breath, the outline of my nipples clearly visible. I asked him to rebutton my shirt. His shaky hands resting on my breasts, he did so. I ran a finger down his face.

"You're doing so well. That was incredibly sexy, hot. Every woman in the audience will be on fire. I know I am."

Ross' breathing was deep and slow, his eyes dazed with desire. "I've got a good teacher."

I kissed his cheek, my lips lingered on his flesh, by body pressed to his. My leg bumped his erection. "You better go take care of that." I turned and walked away, adding an extra wiggle to my walk.

Even my inexperienced son could see I was a bitch-dog in heat.

His father was in the closing stage of his telephone conference, regurgitating the team's action plan. I kneeled, unzipped his pants, hauled out his cock, took the head in my mouth. Alex, with admirable focus, brought the meeting to an end.

"You're on fire today. What's going on?"

"Not sure, let's fuck."

We hurried to our bedroom, stripped, minimal foreplay, he was in me. We were not subtle. He drove his cock and out of me; my pussy walls sucked on the hard meat. I thought about when I met my husband, when I was dazzled. I thought about my marriage, the first fifteen years, when I craved my husband's naked body, when I couldn't wait for him to come home and fuck me. I thought about flashing my son while talking to Rani. I thought about rehearsing with Ross on the porch, the way his hands felt on me. I thought about my son, in the house, right now. Had he jerked off? Was he jerking off right now listening to his father fuck me?

A picture came to me. My son's hand's flashing up and down his cock, listening to his father take me, cum rocketing from the head of his cock.

And then I came, hard and strong, multiple times, the best bunch of orgasms in years.
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* * * *​

The next morning Ross was sullen, withdrawn. I asked; he said he didn't want to talk about it. It was at the end of my yoga session, when relaxed, my mind open, that the answer burst into my brain.

I had sexualized our rehearsals. Then I made them into a dirty little secret, something naughty, to be hidden, kept private from his father. All this had helped Ross' performance. Now I would extend these principles; I would further empower Ross; I would let our pretend sex life, in a small way, control my real sex life

I called and asked Ross if he wanted to join me for lunch at Pizza Man. He never said no to Pizza Man.

We shared a pepperoni. When it came to pizza the kid had no imagination.

"Last night, your father and I were pretty loud. I guess it seemed disrespectful."

He squirmed; I'd hit the nail on the head.

"Mom, its just..."

He stopped, not sure where he was going.

"I'm going to be honest with you. When you and I rehearse, I get aroused. You've come a million miles in the last few days. The point, or at least most of the point, of this production is to get people turned on. It's working."

"Really Mom?"

"Really."

I ran a fingernail across the top of his hand, feeling a sudden pang of desire. I toyed with the end of one of his fingers.

"But I guess is seems disrespectful. You and I go out on the porch, you get me all hot and bothered, then I fuck somebody else."

I watched. Ross accepted the explicit words; he had come a long way in the last few days.

"How 'bout this. I won't fuck your father after we rehearse. I'll either masturbate or go to bed horny."
​

* * * *​

Late that afternoon, sitting on the couch, facing each other, we did another read through. I rubbed his feet; Ross was more aggressive, his hands worked their way up my legs. It was our best rehearsal to date. I complimented him.

"Thanks Mom, but now's the hard part. Sandy wants us to ab-lib the endiing. Outside of this script, I'm not sure how to talk dirty. I've got no experience."

"Try the internet."

"What?"

"The internet. There has to be dozens of sites dedicated to talking dirty, or with samples of dirty talk, or stories in which people talk dirty. You'll find all the material you need."

"Good idea." Then he paused, "What's Dad gonna think when he sees the show?"

"Would you prefer he not come?"

"Yeah, I would, it'd hate to explain it to him and it would ruin our secret."

"He's not much into theater. If something doesn't come up, I'll manufacture an excuse for him not to come. This will be between you and I, just you and I."

"Thanks Mom."
​

* * * *​

Alex and I were going to a party that evening. Recalling last night's romp, thinking maybe we could still fix things up, feeling a bit guilty about conspiring with Ross, I put on garters, panties, stockings, a sheer black lacy bra, and as high a set of heels as decorum allowed. I made sure that Alex saw it all before I slipped into a short tight low cut dress.

"And what kind of mood are we in?" he asked, looking at me with happy eyes.

"Strip me after the party and find out," I purred.
​

* * * *​

The party was a disaster. Alex gravitated to an attractive red-head who worked at a local architectural firm. Alex said he didn't know her but had to be attentive, she was a potential source of business. But I'd seen this behavior before. The connection between them was effortless; their chemistry patent; the lie obvious. When another guest, a general contractor, mentioned that Alex and the red-head had just signed a contract to design a two story office building for him, my suspicions were confirmed. She was a past, maybe a current, lover. I just wanted to leave. I made sure his glass was always full; soon I was driving one very drunk husband home.

Ross helped me get him upstairs, where we stripped him. Ross put his hand in mine.

"You look nice tonight Mom."

"Thank you son. How's the research going?"

"Great. You were right. The internet's a gold mine of dirty talk Instead of having too little to say, I've got too much. I was winnowing it down. Wanna help?"

I looked at my husband. "Sure, let me freshen up."

"Thanks Mom. The materials are in my room, let's do it there. And don't dwaddle, I want that sexy butt on my bed pronto."

It was playful, but he was in character. "My butt is at you service."

In the bathroom I took off my clothes and took the time to study my nude form in the mirror. I was a beautiful woman. I had been an active and imaginative lover, always ready for a roll in the hay. Last night was our best sex in years. I'd wanted to give Alex my body again tonight. I was angry and resentful, but I was also aroused; I wanted my sexuality back. I washed my face, brushed my hair, put on some light eye make-up and red lip stick, and opened my lingerie drawer. I held up a sheer baby doll, imagined Ross' face if I wore it. I put on cotton pyjamas. The fabric was soft, the legs and sleeves full length.
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* * * *​

Ross was sitting in front of his computer. On the screen a young man had pinned a voluptuous older woman to a wall. Her breasts were mashed on his chest, he was driving his oversized equipment into her, she was clawing his back and babbling obscenities. Ross was wearing only red gym shorts. The pornography, I thought, must have distracted him while changing. Ross turned off his computer; the image slowly faded away. Pushing some papers to the side, he sat on his bed and motioned for me to join him.

"You look good Mom,"

"In these ratty old pj's?"

"Yeah Mom, you can't help but look good."

I smiled.

He said, "I was thinking, let's run through the last page of the scripted material, then start the ab-lib."

"You're in charge stud."

We began. I quickly got into character; I quickly got turned on. The sexual energy that had been present all evening merged with that in our roles. My breathing slowed and deepened. I moistened my lips with my tongue. I stroked Ross' thigh. When we finished the scripted material I ran a finger tip down my son's face, stopping at his lips, and kissed his mouth. When I pulled away I was looking at him through half-lidded eyes. I ran a finger up his leg, stopping short of his penis. I began the ab-lid.

"Maybe I've been too subtle, I need to be fucked."

"Are you sure, we just met?"

"Sweetie, I'm a slut, I don't need to know you, I just need to be fucked. I'm a dirty lady. I told you, I spy on young men, watch them at night, through their windows, with my binoculars. Pick out the cocks I want in my pussy. I've watched you, I know you have what I need. I want you to come on my face, cover me with semen."

Ross' open palm settled on my thigh; a tingle ran through my body. I glanced down, my nipples were hard and erect, visible in my pyjamas. Ross followed my eyes.

"You like my tits? Do you want to spray your cum on them? Watch it slide down my boobs, drip from my nipples."

"Bitch, I thought you said you wanted to be fucked. What do you want? That I come on your face, your breasts, or...," there was a barely detectable pause, before he added, "in your cunt."

"My cunt, I need you to fuck my cunt. Should I beg?"

"Never hurts."

"Okay honey, fill my cunt with cum. Then I'll suck you, get you hard so you can come again, spray it on my face, on my fat tits. I love cock; I love cum. So fuck me, I'll be your whore, then come on my face, on my tits. We'll do it til the sun comes up."

My tits rose and fell with each ragged breath. The desire that had been seeping into me was coursing through my body, it had become a deluge. I arched my back; my breasts jutted out; Ross, eyes' glazed, he gawked at them. He was aroused as I.

"You like my tits don't you?"

"God yes, big and fat and round, I love your tits."

"Imagine spraying your cum on them."

"Unnh..."

"Imagine your cum sliding down them."

"Unnnhhh..."

I took his hand, moved it to my side under my pyjamas. Encouraged by my wicked little smile, he caressed my flank.

And then it came to me, a way to further personalize the story, to make it more immediate, more real.

"Is the problem that I'm too old? Old enough to be your mother? Is your mother old and ugly? Is that why you won't fuck me?"

"No, my mother's beautiful."

"Really? She's a sexy piece? Does she have big tits like me. Does she talk dirty, does she say," and I paused between each word, "cum, jism, prick, cock, cunt?"

Ross' hand trembled on my side. The flame between my legs jumped up a notch.

"She used to, she and Dad used to fuck all the time. She'd try to keep her voice down, but still I heard her say the filthy nasty words. They don't fuck much anymore. They don't know I know, but she found out Dad cheats."

"That's sad, to have a hot horny mom who isn't getting fucked as much as she needs."

"But it's been different lately, she's giving off heat."

"I bet it's because she has a hot son."

Ross swallowed. I slid my hand up his leg, toward his hard-on.

"Y'know what, I think she's spied on you, like I have, she knows about your fat dick and big balls, she wonders how much cum you can shoot. I bet when she masturbates she thinks about you. How about you? When you masturbate do you think about her?"

The words poured from me. I was on fire, in a sexual haze, a pea soup of lust, not questioning why I was encouraging my son to imagine fucking his mother. The small voice in my head that should have been screaming "no" had checked out.

"I bet your Mom masturbates thinking about your cock, taking it up her pussy, feeling your hands on her tits."

I moved his hand to my braless breast. His fingers bumped against my throbbing nipples; I shuddered and moaned.

Ross gulped, his stomach growled, his eyes were unfocused. He was drifting in the same sexual fog that had enveloped me, obscuring everything but his raging libido.

"Pretend its your Mommy's tit. Squeeze."

He did, barely.

"Harder, she won't break."

He did, not hard enough.

"Harder, run your thumb over my nipple."

His thumb dragged across the bud, drive it into the tit-flesh. I let out a animal growl.

"So, do you think about your mommy when you play with yourself?"

Ross was watching the outline of his hand work my breast. I moved his other hand inside my pyjamas, led it to my free breast.

"Do you?"

His voice was subdued and sodden with lust. "Yes."

"Do you come?"

"Yes."

Was it true? Was he saying it to please me? Was he making it up as he went along? Did it matter?

"Tell me more, tell me about jerking off to your Mommy."

"When I play with my dick, sometimes, well sometimes there are pictures of her in my head."

I placed a finger under his chin and tilted his head up. I kissed him. There was a jolt between my legs. I took his jaw between my fingers, squeezed. His lips parted. I moved my tongue inside, languidly explored his mouth. His hands tightened on my breasts - it felt so good - and his tongue responded to mine. I fondled his erection through his gym shorts: big, nice and hard, plum-shaped head. His testicles were large and swollen. My pussy gushed.

I ended our kiss. "Nice cock, very nice cock."

Ross' eyes closed; he focused on my hand. His cock throbbed with each of his breaths. I dragged a finger up its length, it was hard and thick and long. He opened his eyes and watched his hands explore, squeeze, knead, trace the contours and curves of my breasts. I undid the final buttons of my pyjama top. It fell open, fully exposing my chest.

"Mom, your nipples, they're so hard."

"That's because of the way you touch them."

I pulled his penis free of his shorts and stared, enraptured by my son's over-sized tool. It had been years since I'd seen it; I'd all but forgotten he wasn't circumcised. A giddy smile formed on my face.

"It's beautiful, long and thick. I had no idea my baby boy had such a mouth watering cock."

The words had their intended effect. Ross' penis pulsed; it became even more engorged with blood. I pulled the foreskin away; the reddish purple color of the head deepened, a clear shiny liquid bubbled out. His cock pulsed again, more dribbled out. He shifted his position, his cock swayed before my grateful eyes.

My mind was afalme. All the years with my husband, through all our games and role-plays, I'd never felt this sexually alive. My son's cock was perfect. I smeared pre-cum into the head. Ross groaned. The situation was out of control; I didn't care.

I returned to character. "You've been playing hard to get, haven't you. You've noticed me. You wanted me to see your cock. It's so happy it's dripping pre-cum. You should be proud. Your cock is wonderful; thick and hard, and the cockhead's huge. You've wanted me to know what a big beautiful cock you have, didn't you? You knew I'd be unable to resist."

I touched the tip, brought his pre-cum to my lips, licked it off my finger. His flavor was wild, exploding on my taste buds. A contented sigh slipped past my lips.

Ross stared at my mouth. "Do you like it?"

"It's delicious, a bit salty, slightly sweet, so very very yummy."

Using two fingers, I collected more and, with a flourish, plunged my fingers into my mouth, sucking off his juice. I smiled, conscious that my lips were shiny with his seed.

"Mom you look so sexy doing that."

I captured more, smeared it on my nipples. Electricity surged from my tits to my sopping pussy. I held up my breasts. "Come get some."

His lips drifted apart and with eyes half-closed he took an areola into his mouth, fervidly sucking on it. He feasted on my breasts with all the enraptured delight of a hungry baby; he loved eating his Mommy's tits. I shifted position and offered him my other breast. He paid it the same dreamy febrile attention. I moaned like a bitch in heat, loving it but there was something else I wanted. After several blissful minutes, my tits aflame, I pulled his head from my chest, kissed his mouth, bent forward until my face was inches from his cock.

I inhaled. His uncircumcised sex had a dark aroma, stronger and more masculine than his father. I took the shaft in my hand, tilted it towards my face, pulled the foreskin back. Juice dripped from the end. I rubbed it into the head with a finger, then slid the wet finger down the shaft. I squeezed.

Ross gasped, groaned, and a stream of pre-cum lept from his prick. I opened my mouth. The slippery cockjuice sprayed onto my tongue, then across my lips and down my chin.

Ross was transfixed. "I squirted into your mouth Mom. Did you like it?"

Then, before I could answer he sprayed again, his semen splashing on my cheek before I turned my head to capture the rest in my mouth. I frigged the shaft and another, larger, gush followed. Most made it past my lips, some splattered my nose and chin. I sat up and ran my tongue along my lips, savoring his taste. Ross stared at me. I opened my mouth, displaying the remnants of his seed.

"My god, you're delicious. Let's see if there is any more in that fat cock."

I swooped back down, kissed the cock-head, licked the piss-hole, gathering more fluid. Ross groaned, shivering when my lips encased the tip of his penis. I swirled my tongue around and around it.

I was a slave to my fuck-lust, propelled by desires I had no ability and no interest in controlling. I'd never dreamed of sucking my son's cock, now it was the most natural thing in the world. The head of his dick in my mouth, I cast my eyes up, looked into my son's face, frigged the shaft. Ross sighed, groaned, flexed his hips, moved his dick around inside my mouth. He reached through the open top of my pyjamas to my breasts, catching my nipples between his fingers. He was asserting himself, no longer the passive recipient of his mother's incestuous lust.

"Mom, your tits are beautiful, big and full and firm. Your nipples are so hard."

I let his cock slither from my mouth, yanked off my pyjama top, pulled him to my breasts. His open lips surrounded my areola; he lashed my nipple with his eager tongue. Adrenaline pumped into me, sexual energy unmoored me from any restraint morality might suggest. I wanted Ross to come in my mouth; I wanted him to experience that forbidden pleasure. I yanked his head from my breast.

"I need to suck your dick, I need you to come in my mouth."

I pushed Ross onto his back, knelt next to him, and dipped down, licked and suckled his hard prick.

"Mom you look so hot. Suck me Mom, drink my cum."

He tweaked a nipple. I groaned, grasped the base of his shaft, pumped on it, took more of him into my mouth. Ross started humping his tool into my face; I snorted each time the cock-head banged against the back of my mouth. We kept going until, gasping for air, I spit out his tool, took several deep breaths, kissed the cockhead, and placed Ross' hand on the back of my head. He understood. Holding my head in place, he drove his cock into my mouth, then entwined his fingers in my hair and moved my head in time with his hips My son, so shy and reticent a few days before, was face-fucking me. My libido soared. There were no restraints, no rules; Ross' cock and cum were the only thing that mattered.

Ross was jamming his thick dick into my mouth, taking me hard. Groaning again and again, I twisted my hand around the base of the shaft. His balls retracted; he was nearing the end. I shoved my head down, coughing when his cock-head lodged in the opening of my throat.

Concerned, Ross pulled my head from his dick. There was doubt in his eyes. Hag he gone too far? I needed to let him know he had not. I was, a cock-obsessed bitch, his cock-obsessed bitch, and what I needed was a mouthful of his cum.

"Please Ross, feed Mommy your cock, feed her your hot cum. She needs it. Shoot it into her mouth, make her swallow it, drown Mommy with it. Mommy wants a giant load. Be a good boy, shoot all your hot juicy cum into me, all the wonderful hot cum you have in your balls."

Ross grunted and pushed my hungry head back onto his dick. Pulling back his foreskin, I locked my mouth over the cock-head, sucked so my cheeks were concave, lashed his meat with my tongue. I pumped his shaft with one hand, fingered his heavy balls with the other. Saliva dripped from the corners of my mouth. I sucked with single-minded determination and soon his dick twitched and shook and pulsed and Ross, his entire body quivering, cried out, "Mom, I'm cumming," and a thick rope of semen jetted into my mouth, followed by a second heavier load. I was trying to swallow it all when a third wave of cum rocketed from his piss-hole. My cheeks bulging with his seed, Ross pushed my head down. Cum spilled from my mouth, coating his shaft.

Ross let go of my head. I sat up so Ross could watch his cum slide down my cheeks and chin, drip onto my tits. As it did so my I slid my hand up and down his dick's cum-coated length, keeping him hard.

"I love it, I love your cum in my mouth, in my stomach, on my face, sliding down my body. So delicious, so creamy. If I'd known you tasted like this, I'd have started sucking your cock years ago."

I leaned forward and kissed him, a deep soulful kiss. When I pulled away I, likcing my lips, stared at his erection.

"Ross, your cum is wonderful. I need some more. I need it in my cunt. Right now."

I laid down and shimmied out of my pyjama bottoms. Ross crawled between my legs and pressed his hips to mine. His cock slid over the face of my vagina. The look on his face was half-frustration, half-desire. My son was a virgin, unsure of how to get inside me. I took hold of his dick and inserted the cock-head in my cunt.

"Fuck me."

He lunged; our hips crashed together; he fitted me like a hand in a silken glove or a foot in a silk slipper; an orgasm crackled through my body.

"Eeeeeyyyaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!"

I dug my fingers into his back.

"Fuck me son, fuck me."

My virgin son knew little about fucking, but he didn't need to know much. At first his penis rode high inside me. As we went on his cock went deeper and deeper. It felt like a completion of myself, an emptiness finally filled. My eyes rolled up in my head; I gripped him tight. A flame took hold, flared, became violent, could not be stopped. I cried out his name, wanted it never to end, begged him to never leae me.

Our fuck was unrestrained, wild, violent. He pounded into me, I pounded back. Driven by ungovernable desire, we drifted between reality and fantasy. The roles we'd adopted: older woman/younger man, mother/son, actor/actress, virgin/slut, consumed us, swaddled us in a miasma where we'd accept any rationalization that allowed us to serve the burning desires of our bodies, to satisfy a need so deeply felt it cared not for rational explanation.

I gaving myself completely to my son. After his string of lovers, his lies, his use of Dad to prevent a divorce, I could no longer do so with my husband. But I could, and did, with Ross.

I fucked my son with unbridled passion, lust and desire run amuck. Orgasm after orgasm exploded within me; starting when his cock first reached the depths of my pussy, continuing in rapid succession, one after another. I was like a child at the beach, my body battered as ocean wave after ocean wave of pleasure tossed me around with insolent ease. I was guttural, obscene, graphic, begging Ross to fuck me, to dick me, to give me his cum. I asked him to make me his whore, his slut, his harlot. Ross joined in, repeating the prescribed names, proclaiming the delights of his mother's tight delicious twat, her beautiful fat tits, her cock-hungry body.

We fucked on and on. Ross' words devolved to sounds purely animalistic. I locked my legs around his ass and begged him to come, to pump his seed into me, to give me his spunk, to fill me up. He did, bellowing, blowing a final thick creamy wad of jism into his mother. I came with him, my mind a cascade of burning bright shimmering light. Then, my arms and legs quivering, my body shoved past its capacity to accept pleasure, I collapsed. I was exhausted; it felt like I had no bones. Ross rolled off of me. I held him, told him I loved him, told him what he meant to me. Too weak to move, spent, satiated, we were both soon asleep.
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