Page 02
"Do you want to suck mommy's breast like you did as a baby Sweetie?" I knew the answer and pulled down the nightie to expose my right boob. The nipple looked like a new pencil eraser, pink and pointed and proud on a ruddy half-dollar cap of raspberry colored pebbled flesh. David's lips nibbled their way to attach the vacuuming mouth and swirling tongue of his eager orifice. I had a sudden sense memory of the days when he was an infant, milking his mommy while his daddy went down on me and made me rocket.
My husband had been a developer of jet engines for his huge firm. A rocket scientist with the certificates to prove it. But in the love making department he sent me to the moon regularly. After having given birth to our first born, before we could resume normal intercourse, his mouth had acted in concert with the activity of nursing David. These double simulations were some of the most erotic and profound sexual experiences I had ever had and were not to be repeated with the birth of my second child, as she was bottle fed because of logistical considerations due to several factors. Those were the only times I was able to get off through cunnilingus, rather than begging to be fucked.
Now the recollection of that coinciding of nurturing and sexual titillation; the infant suckling at my tit and my husband sucking on my clit at the same time, which had sent me over the brink of ecstasy, cascading into a euphoria of multiple climaxes; that memory reached out and took over my brain as I relived the moment of supreme love and sexual elation. I was giving and being given to, a new bride having the wedded bliss of unbridled joyful sex with my spouse and a baby to cherish and adore at my breast.
My brain was a time machine that transported me mentally and physically to the climax of those moments. My body buck in lust as my phantom hubby make my gonads gloriously happy. As I peaked in remembrance I came in reality and returned to what was really happening. David was still nursing on my nipple and dry fucking me with his hard-on humping on my tummy. Sliding on the slippery fabrics that separated us from intercourse, as his cock tried in vain to poke the spot where the opening of my womanhood was.
My sweet baby, David, was now a grown man, with his penis rubbing up and down on my mons Venus instead of a step. His lips once more on my milk giving mammary, now dry save for his saliva. His cock cumming on mommy, excited to climaxing from our intimate talk and erotic activity. The evening had transported us both to a moment neither of us had planned and both had approvingly appropriated as a natural course of where our conversation and closeness was leading to.
Yes we came together, mother and son. We came together to be in his home alone together. We came together to share the gentle joy of the physical ministry of his massage. We came together closer in sharing about times we were unable to speak of before; until now. Adult to adult we could openly be honest and understand the complex dynamics of the sexual tensions that had existed between mother and son , Dell and David.
Confiding about the times by the bedroom door when David's father, my husband, had made love for both of the men to me; and I had given myself to both males as well simultaneously, one physically and the other symbolically. And yes, oh yes, we had cum together, back then and now too, now climaxing in a humping of hot arousal not to be denied and which must be shared as male and female as well as child and parent, son with mom, David on Dell. We had come together and cum together, as evident from each of our soaked silks saturated with sexual secretion.
I could still feel his after-throbs, quaking on my tummy so sweetly. Detect the hot damp spot that spread in his shorts and seeped through fabric to be felt on my own flesh, my skin alerted by his ejaculation of man-seed, son-cum, kid-creaming. The moment was given a coda of sighs when the ragged gasps and heavy heaving of our lungs was replaced with our murmurs of reassurance and love and respect. Then silence, as the momentous enormity of our mutual masturbation made us reflect in the afterglow on the meaning of our act of love.
Our intense peak of cuddle-coupling diminished into the most pleasant of quiets and spiritually satisfaction of a higher level of love, having been reached in a totally delightful and satisfying fashion, free of guilt, without guile and open to more exploration later without any recrimination now or ever. Without actually having sexually intercourse, David and I had become lovers as sure as if we had done the deed. But it was far beyond the corporeal connection, even if it had not been physically consummated. We were now more intimately bonded even than some married couples failed to achieve. What a blessing, what a curse! And I knew that tomorrow this blazing course would culminate in convivial consanguinity.
We arose and repaired to our separate bedrooms for the night. It might seem silly to have separated at that juncture, but at the time it seemed natural to not move to a mutual mattress and more likely more mating. So we slept, and well each, on our individual pallets, at peace with our peccadillo of incestuous passion, no regrets nor fears of reproaches in the morning light to disturb our slumber
In the morning we were dressed for breakfast, David in his work suit to go to the office, I in my clothes suitable for housework. But this day David returned my French kisses, brushed my tit and gently squeezed my buns as he did so. I fixed him a cheese omelet, folded to make a suggestive split with a single sausage link slyly laid in the groove and a glass of milk to drink as well. Eggs and meat with dairy; the male shape and female products were graphic and metaphorical in meaning. David laughed and enjoyed the dish, saying, "Mom, you know what I like! It's Dell-icious!"
I bent down and whispered in his ear as he left for the job, "Tonight, I am making your favorite dinner and also giving you something you have long wanted to eat too!" Then Frenched him again. His eyes told me that he clearly understood that the evening was be most memorable for both of us. His hand slid up my legs between my thighs and discovered I worn no panties. I turned instantly wet, but knew he needed to get going. "No dawdling - nor diddling! Best be off to work now, we can work on getting off later!" With a grin he gave me a big hug and a hot kiss and I felt his hard-on press against me, before he turned and exited out the kitchen door to his car.
The day was spent shopping for dinner and cooking, not much cleaning to be done but a little laundry, including the sin saturated undies of last night's session of indecent indiscretion. I rummaged in his tape collection for mood music, set up candles on the living room mantle. I began to cook the rump roast that was his most desired 'Dell-icacy' of mommy cooking for her sonny boy. Then I took a long bath and a short nap. By the hour he was due, the table was set and scene of seduction set-up, the meat and potatoes were hot and ready and so as moma! I'd let him pop the cork on the champagne, I'd pop his later!
When David arrived I loosened his tie and gave him a big kiss but no tongue. I patted his butt and told him to put on some jeans and a tee shirt. He put his hand up my frock and discovered the cotton panties I had on. I grabbed his arm and firmly disengaged my boy from man-handling me. "Later!" I said arching my brows and smiling to reassure him that the promise of the morning was not forgotten, "dinner is getting cold, pot-roast, your favorite!"
He said "YES!!" and charge up the stairs to change.
We sipped the bubbly, the conversation was sparkling, the sexual tension was sparking too. David reviewed the mundane agenda of his day and I recounted my domestic duties. We discussed the headlines of the paper and the latest gossip about celebrities. We skirted the issue of what was up my dress, we were jocular about things without mentioning what was in his jockey shorts. In brief, we were polite in conversation while our minds were thinking about naughty things in panties. Chocolate ice cream did nothing to cool our lurking lust. It was not the true dessert of the evening.
David helped me clear the table, will wonders never cease, but then he was motivated to have the night's activities move along. I declared the dishes could wait until the next day if they were well rinsed, for the same reason. "Your new silk shorts are washed and on your bed" I said indicating what I expected next. David dropped his drawers and there they were already on him! The eager little devil! I unbuttoned the top button of my dress and gave him a smile.
"Okay! But while I change, light the candles on the mantle and start the music I put in the stereo and fetch us another bottle of bubbly. And hang up your clothes!" I was still his mother, isn't that who he wanted to do it with? I thought about that as I went upstairs and stripped. David wanted to fuck his mommy. Why? Why do boys - men - want to screw their mothers?
Is it a desire to return all the love they have had from their moms? Is it a way of expressing their gratitude for all that ma has done for them? Or perhaps to receive the most supreme kind of loving by the one person who would never reject them, that is if she would accept their physical attentions in the same way as she had every other offering from her child? Perhaps to achieve the true integration of parent and child through the ultimate intimacy? Or all of those things together? Who could fathom those psychological depths?
I put on the blue gown but left off the underwear, my bush a dark fluffy delta though the diaphanous material, the nipples nearly naked as they poked the fabric. Why make moma, physically take mother; rivalry against dad, conquest of the parental authority, a power thing? Or was it a sense of bonding, reuniting with the procreative force, a melding with the genetic source? Love, lust, power - surrender; and why were some women will and wanting to be wanton with their male children?
I could answer only for myself. David was desirous of me and I was horny as hell. He was loving and safe, handsome and loved by me already. I put a luscious red lipstick on and light blue eye shadow. He was my sweet boy, now a gentle and kind man. Funny, and attractive and well mannered, as I had hoped that he would become, as I raised him to be. Now he developed into the person I had worked for him to mature into, and I was proud of my kid. I was willing to reward him for having turned out so well. To provide a payback by a layback, a liaison in praise of my son, the gift of sex with me for his happiness; and mine, I deserved it too.
I went downstairs, there was a perfume in the air from the scented candles, the soft music played, the bottle was open and glasses were poured. My son rose from the couch and came toward me, his blue shorts slightly tenting at my all but nude body. He wrapped his arms around me, an enclosing hug. I felt warm and safe and protected and loved. He kissed me so softly and gently, a romantic and tender peck, immediately followed by a more robust buss, then a deep French one and I responded in kind with enthusiasm to each.
We sat on the sofa and just looked at each other, saying nothing, sipping the wine, kissing occasionally. Then one of my favorite songs came though the speakers. A tune that I had used to teach David how to slow dance. Place his hand on the middle of the lady's back to lead firmly, the other clasping hers and guiding the direction as they swayed. David stood and took my hand to draw me up. He remembered, no words were needed, we move to the center of the living room, the coffee table had been thoughtfully moved out of the way by David as I has been upstairs musing about mother/son incest.
David's arm went behind me and we move together in harmony, confident male and compliant female. I liked being controlled in this fashion, the music set the rhythm, the man directed the movements, but the woman created the mood. We melted together as one coordinated team, though it had been sometime since we had last danced together, the cooperative activity a turn-on; an exhilarating motion made a little tipsy for the wine and so much fun as I had had in quite a while.
He held me tight, I could feel his leg between mine, chest to breasts close and amorous and little kisses now and then. He spun me and dipped me at the end of the third song. I held up my hand to indicate that his old mom needed a breather. We sat again. We toasted, the glasses clinking, our lips kissed to seal the toast in celebration of our union. After a few minutes of some small talk, David looked like there was something he wanted to say. He opened his mouth then closed it, thrice. "Go on you can say what you want, David." I reassured him.
He dropped his eyes, when he raised them and spoke it was in a soft voice. "I'd like to do something I've never have had the chance to do."
"Yes?"
"Could we . . . dance naked . . . "
"I never have either . . . that would be something new we would share together. It would be very special, I'd love to." I said and stood. He stood too and then ever so gingerly lifted my gown high and completely off. He hooked his thumbs to his skivvies and dragged them over his hips and they fell to the floor. We moved dream-like to the open space and the music, as if timed, began a slow languid melody, no lyrics, an instrumental; neither of us spoke either. We drew one another close.
The heat of bare flesh was sensuous and searing, soft and smooth, and oh sooo seductive. My nipples brushed against his chest hair, his erection browsed my pubic bush. The tummies touched and our arms embraced as we clenched to make the contact full bodied. David's hands were on my bottom, slightly clenching the globes. I put my palms on his shoulder blades to feel the strength of his back.
Our lips were doing a dance of their own. They brushed and puckered and bussed. Tongues sipped and tasted and visited each other's abode back and forth, playing a game of tag and tangle, tasting the sweetness of one another. Even our noses got in on the action, an elegant Eskimo invitation to intimacy. To catch our breath after several minutes, we danced cheek to cheek as my cheek-buns were squeezed by my son and his hips scrunched his hard-on between us.
I was dripping and I felt a distinct dampness at the tip of his penis. Suddenly, I was perspiring profusely and David broke out in a sweat too. This made everything slick and even more erotic. We started to move our hands over each other's backsides, up and down, from ass to neck, with palms sliding and fingers gripping. We lip locked but never stopped moving to the music.
His tongue entered my mouth a slithering, insistent, an incestuous invading snake. I welcomed David's oral digit that sought to explore the contours my mouth, mastering me there the way his cock would soon conquer my cunt. I signaled my passion and submission to his lust with my open jaw and clutched the back of his head to draw him to me in a French kiss that made me feel faint from desire.
I'm not sure when the music ended as our wriggling and swaying had taken on an inertia of its own. We were moving our bodies up, down, left, right; legs and torsos and genitals grinding in slippery erratic erotic rubbing. We could get enough of each other, as if we were trying to meld together into one being by uniting our flesh as we melted from the friction we produced. I might have seen steam rising from us if my eyes had been open.
Then it was time for the joining of bodies in the way God has granted physical species, in animal fashion, in sexual heat, in carnal passion. My legs began to buckle and David, instantly attuned, supported me and half carried me, literally sweeping me off my feet back to the couch. He set me down with my hips on the edge, my back supported on the soft cushion seat, my head looking down at my son between my spread legs as he began to kiss and sucked on my nipples.
I ran my fingers through his hair, as he helped himself to his mommy's mammeries. He no longer suckled as a child but made love as a man, his lips and tongue gorging on the pouting points of pulchritude. They grew to half an inch, red berries bursting from creamy full mounds of moma's bosom. He was no novice in nibbling on a gal's knockers; at first, nice and tender - then serious and intense. His tongue thrummed the protrusions in vibration and lips pulled them out even further, alternating between the two. A mouth that tried to draw out my soul, as it once sought to take in my life giving milk.
Then, as his father had, as he had witnessed from the steps thinking to be hidden and secret; he began to move his mouth lower and lower. Sweet kisses and long licks leading to my navel, but not stopping there. I realized what he as after, and thrilled to once more have cunnilingus which I crave. I spread my thighs even wider and lifted my crotch to meet his mouth on my labia, as David went down on his mother.
There too, my son was no stranger to the nether parts of a woman. He started with long slides of his talented tongue along the sides of my thighs, teasing as I anticipated the centering of his administrations. Then they did converge on my vagina, with the pink fat worm working into the ruddy folds, working toward the delicate pearl at the top. Closer and close to my clit did the digit flit, 'til finally it hit. What a sensation, made all the more exquisite with the anticipation!
He did figure eights and strummed. He did the alphabet which did a number on me. He suckled and made long licks. Then he blew me - I mean literally - first he drew back and blew through pursed lips to make a little breeze which cooled me there in my hottest spot. Next, he put his wide open mouth on my pussy and exhaled hot breathe to re-steam it. The several times of alternating cool blowing and heating exhaust drove me to new heights.
Then my son's tongue slithered over my clit again in his serpentine style that drove me to the very peak of sexual excitement and I reached the point of no return. "Put it in," I gasped and uttered the words in a breathy most urgent plea, "put it in, now!" was all I could say as I repeated my begging. I had reached the point of no return; I had to have a cock in my cunt, even if it was the penis of my son.
But even better; that it was the organ of my beloved David, the devoted son who now was filling my long emptiness and the longing we had both had hidden for so long. I reached the point of no return and gladly welcomed it as I welcomed the tool of my boy, as I was well deserving of the cum to come. Yes, I had reached to point of no return. There was no turning back, incest was not new to me, but this was even more beautiful than with losing my virginity with my uncle.
I sensed David moving to get in position, just has his father had taken me, before our child's eyes years ago. I was spread open for the sacrifice of my womb to the son which had been born from it. To have him return in an act of love to the womb he had been conceived in, to shoot his own sperm in there as had his father before him. I ached in my vagina for a man, I longed to be filled, I desired my son to be the male I mated with. I wanted my David to make me cum and to cum in me, flooding me with the burning seed of his semen.
In a way, I thought, in one moment of clarity, the kind that arrives in an instant sometimes; I was not really cheating on my spouse. I was not having an affair with a new man, but still loving someone I - we - had always loved. It was genetically an identical cock that was to enter my cunt, not a different penis, not a different masculine body; the same physical shape but now in its youth again, as when I had first met my husband. There was no threat of my loving my hubby less and he would not miss the sex he seldom provided me. It was not cheating him, but I would no longer be cheated of my needs.
I felt David's penis point at my pussy through the fur of my crotch. He rubbed it up and down several times, plowing the labia, brushing the tip against my clitoris, drawing lower to the dripping portal and teasing there before another stroke, still not entering. I couldn't stand it any longer. "Put it in! David, fuck mommy, Fuck me honey! put in NOW!! Then, with a swing of his hips the head entered, it centered, withdrew a little and once more made progress, about half way. With the passage opened and his dick lubricated, David pulled back slightly, then lurched all the way in. I all but came.
God! It felt sooo good to finally have a man's organ in my body once more! He was hard and hot and smooth with the vigor of youth. My son was long enough and deep enough to reach bottom, fill me and fulfill me completely and emotionally as well. I felt such an overwhelming renewal of love for him to have wanted me physically and so grateful we could finally be united this way. He pulled out slowly and with gentle thrusts began to stroke into my vagina. The lips of my labia encompassed him and I felt as tight as if I were a virgin, it had been sooo long.
David got into a good rhythm, and was hitting my G-spot with the knob as his pelvic bone mashed against my clit and his balls banged my anus. Everything was perfect and incredible. I had such lust now for this man, my son, my lover. Though not possible, I wanted to get pregnant by him, so far gone was I in the depths of my incestuous depravity. I craved his spurting into me, to have the hot white seed of sin spume into my womb. I began to thrust up to meet his hammering.
We pounded together harder with that initiative, a fuck machine of two moving units, our mutual motion in unison. Now he was hitting my womb's entrance, the nubs were getting bumped by the head of David's dick with each concussion of cock fully up cunt. I looked at his face scrunched in exertion and ecstasy, eyes closed and mouth open gasping for air. He never looked more beautiful to me, since he had been an infant. He was close, so was I, as my own eyes rolled up and I began that peculiar ritual of my odd orgasmic psychology.
Whenever I was building toward my climax, it's as if I was resisting the feeling of loving sex, as if my conservative upbringing was trying to hold back the climax. "No, no nooo . . ." I said aloud, but the impending paroxysm was not to be held back, the cataclysmic convulsion of my cum had been reached. I shouted "Yes, yes, yeess!". I felt David, my son, his prick deepest in my pussy throb and shudder and let go with a huge load, as my cunt too flowed with copious fluids of copulation. The flood poured out of my hole and down my crack and soaked the cushion but good.
David was so turned on he didn't go soft. (Ah youth!) He continued to hump and I continued to cum, I couldn't stop cumming. Wave after wave of wonderful feelings washed over me. Peaks skipped to peaks and the valleys were but small gaps between. Finally, he let up. David wiped the sweat from his face and helped me to sit back on the couch. The dear boy, who had just proved his manhood beyond a doubt to his mother, went and got a glass of ice water from the kitchen and a towel to dry my profuse perspiration.
We didn't say a word but sat there grinning at each other in happiness and silly giddy love. When we had gotten our breath back, I took David by the hand and took him up to his big bed. There I made him lay down on his back and knelt over him from the side. As I began to suck his dick I could see from the corner of my eye his wide smile and eyes closed in pleasure. I knew that by going down on him from sideways my mouth was in the same orientation as would my pussy be when I mounted him momentarily.
It was not long that he was up and ready for me to ride him. I extended my leg over his body and bent to kiss him, a French frolic of lips and tongues. My mound brushed his hard-on, the stiff wand snaking through my bush. With wiggle and waggle I got the end in the entrance and slid the lance home. With practiced measure I had not made in many years, I fucked my son while bending forward to let him suck my tits. I climaxed again, but David had held out for another position.
He instructed me to get on my hands and knees. I did so facing the headboard as my lusty son got behind me. My ass stuck out and my pussy was totally exposed for his assault. As straight and solid as if we were just beginning he guided his rigid rod right into his mommy's hole. This is my favorite position, I was reminded again of the time I had been fucked, with David just on the other side of the bedroom door and I listening to his panting. Had I fantasized that night it was my son, not my husband that was screwing me doggie fashion? Perhaps, but in any case now we were doing it for real and I could feel his hot gasping ragged breath on my skin as he reached around and clung to my tits!
I loved the bouncing of his hairy testicles on my clit as his big prick pounded my pud. My labia rubber-banded back and forth with the in and out stroking of David's delicious dick. His tool mercilessly took me as his own, I was but a vessel to be filled, to be flooded with his will and love and semen. I gave myself to abandonment, he could have me any time, right in front of his father if he wanted, I just wanted sex with my son. Sin with love, lust with adoration, incest with surrender; that is what we had, what we had wanted, what was to be.
Then I felt the big cum of the throbbing, pulsing, shooting of David's sperm into my womb's opening once more at my very core. This triggered my own climax. Now, not any "no . . no"s or time for any "Yes"s; just, "Ahh! Oh oo UH! uh uh . . . oohhh . . .ahh . . . " And David crying "Yess, Mommy! yes . . . I love you ... I'm cumming in you, mom! OH! oh! ooh .. uh uh . . ."
It was special, it was spectacular, it was suppose to be. It was too long in coming together, to come together to cum together. But I knew that this lust was going to burn for the rest of our lives together and it would not be long before we came together again, as we cuddled together and finally fell fast asleep.
Thanks mom, for helping me to write the story of our affair that never happened. Here is a poem I wrote for you.
Whither the Wraith Writhes
Whither the wraith writhes,
There be the spirit blythe.
Thy writer's rhapsodic prose,
Reminisces of lovers' repose.
Shimmering shadow,
Fantastical and dedicated,
Mere of eve, mind's
Reverie vision comes,
Mother sans leaves.
Bewreathed eternal,
I am bereft of her,
But not when,
Her wraith arrives.
Then I arise and writhe,
And come we together,
Together we come,
Happy souls,
'Til death do us unite.
In the night, mine's
light with rest now,
wrest in this piece.
Be merry my Mary,
As you have made me.
My husband had been a developer of jet engines for his huge firm. A rocket scientist with the certificates to prove it. But in the love making department he sent me to the moon regularly. After having given birth to our first born, before we could resume normal intercourse, his mouth had acted in concert with the activity of nursing David. These double simulations were some of the most erotic and profound sexual experiences I had ever had and were not to be repeated with the birth of my second child, as she was bottle fed because of logistical considerations due to several factors. Those were the only times I was able to get off through cunnilingus, rather than begging to be fucked.
Now the recollection of that coinciding of nurturing and sexual titillation; the infant suckling at my tit and my husband sucking on my clit at the same time, which had sent me over the brink of ecstasy, cascading into a euphoria of multiple climaxes; that memory reached out and took over my brain as I relived the moment of supreme love and sexual elation. I was giving and being given to, a new bride having the wedded bliss of unbridled joyful sex with my spouse and a baby to cherish and adore at my breast.
My brain was a time machine that transported me mentally and physically to the climax of those moments. My body buck in lust as my phantom hubby make my gonads gloriously happy. As I peaked in remembrance I came in reality and returned to what was really happening. David was still nursing on my nipple and dry fucking me with his hard-on humping on my tummy. Sliding on the slippery fabrics that separated us from intercourse, as his cock tried in vain to poke the spot where the opening of my womanhood was.
My sweet baby, David, was now a grown man, with his penis rubbing up and down on my mons Venus instead of a step. His lips once more on my milk giving mammary, now dry save for his saliva. His cock cumming on mommy, excited to climaxing from our intimate talk and erotic activity. The evening had transported us both to a moment neither of us had planned and both had approvingly appropriated as a natural course of where our conversation and closeness was leading to.
Yes we came together, mother and son. We came together to be in his home alone together. We came together to share the gentle joy of the physical ministry of his massage. We came together closer in sharing about times we were unable to speak of before; until now. Adult to adult we could openly be honest and understand the complex dynamics of the sexual tensions that had existed between mother and son , Dell and David.
Confiding about the times by the bedroom door when David's father, my husband, had made love for both of the men to me; and I had given myself to both males as well simultaneously, one physically and the other symbolically. And yes, oh yes, we had cum together, back then and now too, now climaxing in a humping of hot arousal not to be denied and which must be shared as male and female as well as child and parent, son with mom, David on Dell. We had come together and cum together, as evident from each of our soaked silks saturated with sexual secretion.
I could still feel his after-throbs, quaking on my tummy so sweetly. Detect the hot damp spot that spread in his shorts and seeped through fabric to be felt on my own flesh, my skin alerted by his ejaculation of man-seed, son-cum, kid-creaming. The moment was given a coda of sighs when the ragged gasps and heavy heaving of our lungs was replaced with our murmurs of reassurance and love and respect. Then silence, as the momentous enormity of our mutual masturbation made us reflect in the afterglow on the meaning of our act of love.
Our intense peak of cuddle-coupling diminished into the most pleasant of quiets and spiritually satisfaction of a higher level of love, having been reached in a totally delightful and satisfying fashion, free of guilt, without guile and open to more exploration later without any recrimination now or ever. Without actually having sexually intercourse, David and I had become lovers as sure as if we had done the deed. But it was far beyond the corporeal connection, even if it had not been physically consummated. We were now more intimately bonded even than some married couples failed to achieve. What a blessing, what a curse! And I knew that tomorrow this blazing course would culminate in convivial consanguinity.
We arose and repaired to our separate bedrooms for the night. It might seem silly to have separated at that juncture, but at the time it seemed natural to not move to a mutual mattress and more likely more mating. So we slept, and well each, on our individual pallets, at peace with our peccadillo of incestuous passion, no regrets nor fears of reproaches in the morning light to disturb our slumber
In the morning we were dressed for breakfast, David in his work suit to go to the office, I in my clothes suitable for housework. But this day David returned my French kisses, brushed my tit and gently squeezed my buns as he did so. I fixed him a cheese omelet, folded to make a suggestive split with a single sausage link slyly laid in the groove and a glass of milk to drink as well. Eggs and meat with dairy; the male shape and female products were graphic and metaphorical in meaning. David laughed and enjoyed the dish, saying, "Mom, you know what I like! It's Dell-icious!"
I bent down and whispered in his ear as he left for the job, "Tonight, I am making your favorite dinner and also giving you something you have long wanted to eat too!" Then Frenched him again. His eyes told me that he clearly understood that the evening was be most memorable for both of us. His hand slid up my legs between my thighs and discovered I worn no panties. I turned instantly wet, but knew he needed to get going. "No dawdling - nor diddling! Best be off to work now, we can work on getting off later!" With a grin he gave me a big hug and a hot kiss and I felt his hard-on press against me, before he turned and exited out the kitchen door to his car.
The day was spent shopping for dinner and cooking, not much cleaning to be done but a little laundry, including the sin saturated undies of last night's session of indecent indiscretion. I rummaged in his tape collection for mood music, set up candles on the living room mantle. I began to cook the rump roast that was his most desired 'Dell-icacy' of mommy cooking for her sonny boy. Then I took a long bath and a short nap. By the hour he was due, the table was set and scene of seduction set-up, the meat and potatoes were hot and ready and so as moma! I'd let him pop the cork on the champagne, I'd pop his later!
When David arrived I loosened his tie and gave him a big kiss but no tongue. I patted his butt and told him to put on some jeans and a tee shirt. He put his hand up my frock and discovered the cotton panties I had on. I grabbed his arm and firmly disengaged my boy from man-handling me. "Later!" I said arching my brows and smiling to reassure him that the promise of the morning was not forgotten, "dinner is getting cold, pot-roast, your favorite!"
He said "YES!!" and charge up the stairs to change.
We sipped the bubbly, the conversation was sparkling, the sexual tension was sparking too. David reviewed the mundane agenda of his day and I recounted my domestic duties. We discussed the headlines of the paper and the latest gossip about celebrities. We skirted the issue of what was up my dress, we were jocular about things without mentioning what was in his jockey shorts. In brief, we were polite in conversation while our minds were thinking about naughty things in panties. Chocolate ice cream did nothing to cool our lurking lust. It was not the true dessert of the evening.
David helped me clear the table, will wonders never cease, but then he was motivated to have the night's activities move along. I declared the dishes could wait until the next day if they were well rinsed, for the same reason. "Your new silk shorts are washed and on your bed" I said indicating what I expected next. David dropped his drawers and there they were already on him! The eager little devil! I unbuttoned the top button of my dress and gave him a smile.
"Okay! But while I change, light the candles on the mantle and start the music I put in the stereo and fetch us another bottle of bubbly. And hang up your clothes!" I was still his mother, isn't that who he wanted to do it with? I thought about that as I went upstairs and stripped. David wanted to fuck his mommy. Why? Why do boys - men - want to screw their mothers?
Is it a desire to return all the love they have had from their moms? Is it a way of expressing their gratitude for all that ma has done for them? Or perhaps to receive the most supreme kind of loving by the one person who would never reject them, that is if she would accept their physical attentions in the same way as she had every other offering from her child? Perhaps to achieve the true integration of parent and child through the ultimate intimacy? Or all of those things together? Who could fathom those psychological depths?
I put on the blue gown but left off the underwear, my bush a dark fluffy delta though the diaphanous material, the nipples nearly naked as they poked the fabric. Why make moma, physically take mother; rivalry against dad, conquest of the parental authority, a power thing? Or was it a sense of bonding, reuniting with the procreative force, a melding with the genetic source? Love, lust, power - surrender; and why were some women will and wanting to be wanton with their male children?
I could answer only for myself. David was desirous of me and I was horny as hell. He was loving and safe, handsome and loved by me already. I put a luscious red lipstick on and light blue eye shadow. He was my sweet boy, now a gentle and kind man. Funny, and attractive and well mannered, as I had hoped that he would become, as I raised him to be. Now he developed into the person I had worked for him to mature into, and I was proud of my kid. I was willing to reward him for having turned out so well. To provide a payback by a layback, a liaison in praise of my son, the gift of sex with me for his happiness; and mine, I deserved it too.
I went downstairs, there was a perfume in the air from the scented candles, the soft music played, the bottle was open and glasses were poured. My son rose from the couch and came toward me, his blue shorts slightly tenting at my all but nude body. He wrapped his arms around me, an enclosing hug. I felt warm and safe and protected and loved. He kissed me so softly and gently, a romantic and tender peck, immediately followed by a more robust buss, then a deep French one and I responded in kind with enthusiasm to each.
We sat on the sofa and just looked at each other, saying nothing, sipping the wine, kissing occasionally. Then one of my favorite songs came though the speakers. A tune that I had used to teach David how to slow dance. Place his hand on the middle of the lady's back to lead firmly, the other clasping hers and guiding the direction as they swayed. David stood and took my hand to draw me up. He remembered, no words were needed, we move to the center of the living room, the coffee table had been thoughtfully moved out of the way by David as I has been upstairs musing about mother/son incest.
David's arm went behind me and we move together in harmony, confident male and compliant female. I liked being controlled in this fashion, the music set the rhythm, the man directed the movements, but the woman created the mood. We melted together as one coordinated team, though it had been sometime since we had last danced together, the cooperative activity a turn-on; an exhilarating motion made a little tipsy for the wine and so much fun as I had had in quite a while.
He held me tight, I could feel his leg between mine, chest to breasts close and amorous and little kisses now and then. He spun me and dipped me at the end of the third song. I held up my hand to indicate that his old mom needed a breather. We sat again. We toasted, the glasses clinking, our lips kissed to seal the toast in celebration of our union. After a few minutes of some small talk, David looked like there was something he wanted to say. He opened his mouth then closed it, thrice. "Go on you can say what you want, David." I reassured him.
He dropped his eyes, when he raised them and spoke it was in a soft voice. "I'd like to do something I've never have had the chance to do."
"Yes?"
"Could we . . . dance naked . . . "
"I never have either . . . that would be something new we would share together. It would be very special, I'd love to." I said and stood. He stood too and then ever so gingerly lifted my gown high and completely off. He hooked his thumbs to his skivvies and dragged them over his hips and they fell to the floor. We moved dream-like to the open space and the music, as if timed, began a slow languid melody, no lyrics, an instrumental; neither of us spoke either. We drew one another close.
The heat of bare flesh was sensuous and searing, soft and smooth, and oh sooo seductive. My nipples brushed against his chest hair, his erection browsed my pubic bush. The tummies touched and our arms embraced as we clenched to make the contact full bodied. David's hands were on my bottom, slightly clenching the globes. I put my palms on his shoulder blades to feel the strength of his back.
Our lips were doing a dance of their own. They brushed and puckered and bussed. Tongues sipped and tasted and visited each other's abode back and forth, playing a game of tag and tangle, tasting the sweetness of one another. Even our noses got in on the action, an elegant Eskimo invitation to intimacy. To catch our breath after several minutes, we danced cheek to cheek as my cheek-buns were squeezed by my son and his hips scrunched his hard-on between us.
I was dripping and I felt a distinct dampness at the tip of his penis. Suddenly, I was perspiring profusely and David broke out in a sweat too. This made everything slick and even more erotic. We started to move our hands over each other's backsides, up and down, from ass to neck, with palms sliding and fingers gripping. We lip locked but never stopped moving to the music.
His tongue entered my mouth a slithering, insistent, an incestuous invading snake. I welcomed David's oral digit that sought to explore the contours my mouth, mastering me there the way his cock would soon conquer my cunt. I signaled my passion and submission to his lust with my open jaw and clutched the back of his head to draw him to me in a French kiss that made me feel faint from desire.
I'm not sure when the music ended as our wriggling and swaying had taken on an inertia of its own. We were moving our bodies up, down, left, right; legs and torsos and genitals grinding in slippery erratic erotic rubbing. We could get enough of each other, as if we were trying to meld together into one being by uniting our flesh as we melted from the friction we produced. I might have seen steam rising from us if my eyes had been open.
Then it was time for the joining of bodies in the way God has granted physical species, in animal fashion, in sexual heat, in carnal passion. My legs began to buckle and David, instantly attuned, supported me and half carried me, literally sweeping me off my feet back to the couch. He set me down with my hips on the edge, my back supported on the soft cushion seat, my head looking down at my son between my spread legs as he began to kiss and sucked on my nipples.
I ran my fingers through his hair, as he helped himself to his mommy's mammeries. He no longer suckled as a child but made love as a man, his lips and tongue gorging on the pouting points of pulchritude. They grew to half an inch, red berries bursting from creamy full mounds of moma's bosom. He was no novice in nibbling on a gal's knockers; at first, nice and tender - then serious and intense. His tongue thrummed the protrusions in vibration and lips pulled them out even further, alternating between the two. A mouth that tried to draw out my soul, as it once sought to take in my life giving milk.
Then, as his father had, as he had witnessed from the steps thinking to be hidden and secret; he began to move his mouth lower and lower. Sweet kisses and long licks leading to my navel, but not stopping there. I realized what he as after, and thrilled to once more have cunnilingus which I crave. I spread my thighs even wider and lifted my crotch to meet his mouth on my labia, as David went down on his mother.
There too, my son was no stranger to the nether parts of a woman. He started with long slides of his talented tongue along the sides of my thighs, teasing as I anticipated the centering of his administrations. Then they did converge on my vagina, with the pink fat worm working into the ruddy folds, working toward the delicate pearl at the top. Closer and close to my clit did the digit flit, 'til finally it hit. What a sensation, made all the more exquisite with the anticipation!
He did figure eights and strummed. He did the alphabet which did a number on me. He suckled and made long licks. Then he blew me - I mean literally - first he drew back and blew through pursed lips to make a little breeze which cooled me there in my hottest spot. Next, he put his wide open mouth on my pussy and exhaled hot breathe to re-steam it. The several times of alternating cool blowing and heating exhaust drove me to new heights.
Then my son's tongue slithered over my clit again in his serpentine style that drove me to the very peak of sexual excitement and I reached the point of no return. "Put it in," I gasped and uttered the words in a breathy most urgent plea, "put it in, now!" was all I could say as I repeated my begging. I had reached the point of no return; I had to have a cock in my cunt, even if it was the penis of my son.
But even better; that it was the organ of my beloved David, the devoted son who now was filling my long emptiness and the longing we had both had hidden for so long. I reached the point of no return and gladly welcomed it as I welcomed the tool of my boy, as I was well deserving of the cum to come. Yes, I had reached to point of no return. There was no turning back, incest was not new to me, but this was even more beautiful than with losing my virginity with my uncle.
I sensed David moving to get in position, just has his father had taken me, before our child's eyes years ago. I was spread open for the sacrifice of my womb to the son which had been born from it. To have him return in an act of love to the womb he had been conceived in, to shoot his own sperm in there as had his father before him. I ached in my vagina for a man, I longed to be filled, I desired my son to be the male I mated with. I wanted my David to make me cum and to cum in me, flooding me with the burning seed of his semen.
In a way, I thought, in one moment of clarity, the kind that arrives in an instant sometimes; I was not really cheating on my spouse. I was not having an affair with a new man, but still loving someone I - we - had always loved. It was genetically an identical cock that was to enter my cunt, not a different penis, not a different masculine body; the same physical shape but now in its youth again, as when I had first met my husband. There was no threat of my loving my hubby less and he would not miss the sex he seldom provided me. It was not cheating him, but I would no longer be cheated of my needs.
I felt David's penis point at my pussy through the fur of my crotch. He rubbed it up and down several times, plowing the labia, brushing the tip against my clitoris, drawing lower to the dripping portal and teasing there before another stroke, still not entering. I couldn't stand it any longer. "Put it in! David, fuck mommy, Fuck me honey! put in NOW!! Then, with a swing of his hips the head entered, it centered, withdrew a little and once more made progress, about half way. With the passage opened and his dick lubricated, David pulled back slightly, then lurched all the way in. I all but came.
God! It felt sooo good to finally have a man's organ in my body once more! He was hard and hot and smooth with the vigor of youth. My son was long enough and deep enough to reach bottom, fill me and fulfill me completely and emotionally as well. I felt such an overwhelming renewal of love for him to have wanted me physically and so grateful we could finally be united this way. He pulled out slowly and with gentle thrusts began to stroke into my vagina. The lips of my labia encompassed him and I felt as tight as if I were a virgin, it had been sooo long.
David got into a good rhythm, and was hitting my G-spot with the knob as his pelvic bone mashed against my clit and his balls banged my anus. Everything was perfect and incredible. I had such lust now for this man, my son, my lover. Though not possible, I wanted to get pregnant by him, so far gone was I in the depths of my incestuous depravity. I craved his spurting into me, to have the hot white seed of sin spume into my womb. I began to thrust up to meet his hammering.
We pounded together harder with that initiative, a fuck machine of two moving units, our mutual motion in unison. Now he was hitting my womb's entrance, the nubs were getting bumped by the head of David's dick with each concussion of cock fully up cunt. I looked at his face scrunched in exertion and ecstasy, eyes closed and mouth open gasping for air. He never looked more beautiful to me, since he had been an infant. He was close, so was I, as my own eyes rolled up and I began that peculiar ritual of my odd orgasmic psychology.
Whenever I was building toward my climax, it's as if I was resisting the feeling of loving sex, as if my conservative upbringing was trying to hold back the climax. "No, no nooo . . ." I said aloud, but the impending paroxysm was not to be held back, the cataclysmic convulsion of my cum had been reached. I shouted "Yes, yes, yeess!". I felt David, my son, his prick deepest in my pussy throb and shudder and let go with a huge load, as my cunt too flowed with copious fluids of copulation. The flood poured out of my hole and down my crack and soaked the cushion but good.
David was so turned on he didn't go soft. (Ah youth!) He continued to hump and I continued to cum, I couldn't stop cumming. Wave after wave of wonderful feelings washed over me. Peaks skipped to peaks and the valleys were but small gaps between. Finally, he let up. David wiped the sweat from his face and helped me to sit back on the couch. The dear boy, who had just proved his manhood beyond a doubt to his mother, went and got a glass of ice water from the kitchen and a towel to dry my profuse perspiration.
We didn't say a word but sat there grinning at each other in happiness and silly giddy love. When we had gotten our breath back, I took David by the hand and took him up to his big bed. There I made him lay down on his back and knelt over him from the side. As I began to suck his dick I could see from the corner of my eye his wide smile and eyes closed in pleasure. I knew that by going down on him from sideways my mouth was in the same orientation as would my pussy be when I mounted him momentarily.
It was not long that he was up and ready for me to ride him. I extended my leg over his body and bent to kiss him, a French frolic of lips and tongues. My mound brushed his hard-on, the stiff wand snaking through my bush. With wiggle and waggle I got the end in the entrance and slid the lance home. With practiced measure I had not made in many years, I fucked my son while bending forward to let him suck my tits. I climaxed again, but David had held out for another position.
He instructed me to get on my hands and knees. I did so facing the headboard as my lusty son got behind me. My ass stuck out and my pussy was totally exposed for his assault. As straight and solid as if we were just beginning he guided his rigid rod right into his mommy's hole. This is my favorite position, I was reminded again of the time I had been fucked, with David just on the other side of the bedroom door and I listening to his panting. Had I fantasized that night it was my son, not my husband that was screwing me doggie fashion? Perhaps, but in any case now we were doing it for real and I could feel his hot gasping ragged breath on my skin as he reached around and clung to my tits!
I loved the bouncing of his hairy testicles on my clit as his big prick pounded my pud. My labia rubber-banded back and forth with the in and out stroking of David's delicious dick. His tool mercilessly took me as his own, I was but a vessel to be filled, to be flooded with his will and love and semen. I gave myself to abandonment, he could have me any time, right in front of his father if he wanted, I just wanted sex with my son. Sin with love, lust with adoration, incest with surrender; that is what we had, what we had wanted, what was to be.
Then I felt the big cum of the throbbing, pulsing, shooting of David's sperm into my womb's opening once more at my very core. This triggered my own climax. Now, not any "no . . no"s or time for any "Yes"s; just, "Ahh! Oh oo UH! uh uh . . . oohhh . . .ahh . . . " And David crying "Yess, Mommy! yes . . . I love you ... I'm cumming in you, mom! OH! oh! ooh .. uh uh . . ."
It was special, it was spectacular, it was suppose to be. It was too long in coming together, to come together to cum together. But I knew that this lust was going to burn for the rest of our lives together and it would not be long before we came together again, as we cuddled together and finally fell fast asleep.
Thanks mom, for helping me to write the story of our affair that never happened. Here is a poem I wrote for you.
Whither the Wraith Writhes
Whither the wraith writhes,
There be the spirit blythe.
Thy writer's rhapsodic prose,
Reminisces of lovers' repose.
Shimmering shadow,
Fantastical and dedicated,
Mere of eve, mind's
Reverie vision comes,
Mother sans leaves.
Bewreathed eternal,
I am bereft of her,
But not when,
Her wraith arrives.
Then I arise and writhe,
And come we together,
Together we come,
Happy souls,
'Til death do us unite.
In the night, mine's
light with rest now,
wrest in this piece.
Be merry my Mary,
As you have made me.
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