Incest/Taboo Gary's Mom

I fell asleep wondering about many things and had some very weird dreams.
​

****​

It was game day. I had slept in. At first, I thought about rushing upstairs to see if calling Mrs. Robinson 'mom' would instigate another session like last night but then realized it was Saturday and we wouldn't be alone. I forgot all about golf.

Lazing around, I twiddled with my dick, thinking about Mrs. Robinson and, more hazily, possible liaisons with my unremembered mother, until I had to get up to take a leak. While I was pissing, I remembered that Mr. Robinson liked to golf on Saturdays. I yanked on some shorts and half ran upstairs.

Mrs. Robinson's wasn't there, an absence that was distinctly disappointing. I rubbed my cock and opened the fridge. I was hungry. I was almost finished my second bowl of cereal when the door opened.

"Hello, I'm home."

She breezed into the kitchen, carrying a bunch of bags and deposited them on the table, then turned toward the kitchen counter where I was sitting with a spoonful of cereal, dripping milk back into the bowl, halfway to my mouth.

"Ta da," she exclaimed. "Do you like it?" she asked, twirling around.

I looked her up and down. You betcha I did, but I guess she meant the new sporty blouse and skirt she was wearing.

"Yeah, it looks great...Mom."

"Allen, don't start."

"I was just kidding. Your new outfit looks really good on you, but what wouldn't."

"Oh, you flatterer. Wouldn't you rather have pancakes? I was hoping to get home earlier."

"Nope. Cereal's okay."

"Are you sure. It will only take a minute."

Why was I saying no when she wanted to do something for me?

"Okay, that would be great."

Mrs. Robinson bustled around the kitchen, getting pancake mix, milk and eggs, then a frying pan and a bowl. I watched as she mixed it up, enjoying her sporty outfit with its short, pleated skirt and tight t-shirt. She put the mix onto the counter to let it sit for a while.

"I'm kind of hungry myself," she said, lifting herself up onto a stool beside me.

I looked down at her almost completely bare legs.

"Are you ready for the game, Allen?"

"I think so," I replied, not bothering to look up even though I knew it was rude. My morning hardon hadn't quite worn off.

"There will be lots of people. It can be a little overwhelming but I'll be there, and Mr. Robinson too," she assured me.

She patted me on the leg and I patted hers in response.

"You have to wait until after the game, sweetie."

"Even if I call you Mom?" I half-joked.

"Yes, even then," she answered, but I noted a sharp intake of breath.

"Okay, Mom. Are the pancakes ready to cook yet?"

"Let's see." Mrs. Robinson slid off her stool and went to check the bowl. "I don't mind you calling me that, Allen, but not when Mr. Robinson is around."

"Okay," I agreed, slipping off my own stool and standing behind her while she looked at the bowl of pancake mix, which was starting to blister.

"It looks like it's a little early yet," Mrs. Robinson said.

I put my hands on her hips and nuzzled her the nape of her neck.

"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry," I said, my right hand sliding down over her buttock.

"Allen, you must wait."

She pulled away but I followed her into the counter.

Twisting away, she said, "I think we can eat this now."

I sat on the stool again and acted like a good boy while Mrs. Robinson cooked the pancakes. I made no further suggestions but managed to sprinkle a few Mom's into our conversation while we ate. When we finished, I followed her to the sink to put my dishes on top of hers. I pressed against her.

"Allen, we really have to wait. Mr. Robinson will be home from golf soon."

"I know," I whispered close to her ear, my hands encircling her waist and rubbing along the swell of her breasts, "but I don't think it's a good idea to go to the game like this."

"Like what," Mrs. Robinson leaned forward to get away from me which only pushed her bum into me.

"Like this," I hissed, bulging my cock firmly into her ass. "I think Mr. Robinson will be angry if he sees me like this and I can't control it. "You've got to help me."

"How?" Mrs. Robinson's head bounced as I rubbed hard against her ass. "There isn't time to...do it."

"Could you, you know, do like I did to you before I went to get the tickets?"

Mrs. Robinson froze, then pushed herself up straight. I loosened my arms to let her turn around. She was blushing.

"You mean, you want me to...suck you?"

Those words spilling from her mouth almost made me come in my pants.

"Yeah," I said, already pushing my shorts down.

"But Allen, I can't..."

"I need something. You're got to do something before Mr. Robinson gets home."

I shoved my shorts down far enough that my cock sprung forth, fully armed.

Mrs. Robinson looked at it and the look in her face made me proud. I may be a geek, but I was a well-armed geek.

"Please, Mom," I whispered, putting my hands on her shoulders and pressing gently down.

Mrs. Robinson was reluctant but I could see growing acceptance forming on her face.

"Please, Mom. I really need it."

She bent over and I stepped back, my hands slipping up from her shoulders to gently cup her face, guiding her down. Oh, God. Her lips skidded over my helmet, her tongue tickled underneath my glans, licked, and then her mouth enveloped my head slid down my shaft.

"Oh, Mom. Oh God. Mom," I cried.

She was pulling up already, then sinking down, pushing farther. Fuck, it was so fine, so very, very fine. Up again, her tongue swirling around my tip, her lips squeezing, then sliding down, gripping. Her fingers appeared out of nowhere, one circling my root with forefinger and thumb while the other started tickling my balls.

"Suck it, Mom, suck it," I groaned.

She sank to her knees but her head didn't miss a beat as it bobbed up and down. I lifted her hair and smoothed it back over her head so I could try to see her face. Mrs. Robinson looked up at me and smiled, holding my eyes for a few bobs before returning to her task. I wasn't going to last long, maybe a dozen or so strokes, if that.

Mr. Robinson's car squealed into the driveway.

"Shit!" Mrs. Robinson cried, yanking her head off my cock.

"It's alright, it's alright," I yelled. "He always puts his clubs away in the garage. You can finish," I cried, desperately trying to pull her mouth back onto me.

"Please, Mom," I pleaded.

Mrs. Robinson let me pull her mouth back onto my cock. She closed her lips firmly around it and started bobbing again but I was now frantic to finish. I grasped her head tighter bent my knees, pulling her lower before thrusting in and out of her mouth. She loosened her lips and opened her mouth wide, keeping her head still, instinctively knowing that I was almost there and it was better to simply let me fuck her face. The sound of my cock wetly sliding in and out of her mouth sent me over the top. I exploded. She gagged and swallowed. I burst again, another gag and swallow, then I held in deep, squirting the rest of my spunk into Mrs. Robinson's throat, trying to empty myself before her husband came in the door.

Please, oh please, don't forget to put your clubs away.

I heard the clubs clatter as the bag was pulled out of the car. The trunk slammed and the clubs rattled as Mr. Robinson carried them into the garage. I had time. I kept hold of Mrs. Robinson's head with one hand as I slowly fucked away the remnants of my orgasm, holding her hair back with the other so I could look at her gorgeous face with my cock sliding in and out of her mouth. She hadn't spilled a drop.

I stumbled sideways as I tried to pull my shorts up and barely stayed upright until I hit the wall with a bang. Mrs. Robinson, despite knowing her husband's arrival was imminent, burst out laughing. I didn't find my predicament so funny and ran down the stairs just as the front door opened. I stopped at the bottom to listen, in case I needed to run farther away.

"Ready for the game?" Mr. Robinson yelled.

"We don't have to leave for an hour," Mrs. Robinson complained.

"I know, I know, but the traffic might be heavy. Where's Allen?"

"I don't know. He must be downstairs. No, you go up and get a shower and I'll find him."

I heard a loud kiss as Mr. Robinson kissed his wife. I hoped I was right and she hadn't spilled any of my spunk. I couldn't imagine a woman kissing her husband and not smelling the scent of another woman on his lips but I guess us guys aren't so clever.
​

****​

The game was fantastic. We drank cheap, stale beer and ate crappy hot dogs but it was up there with the best meals I had ever cooked. I made a point to whip up a special meal for my new 'parents'. Mr. Robinson was ecstatic and drank too much beer. He even finished mine when I admitted I couldn't finish it. We drove home in a merry mood; our team had won. Mr. Robinson rode in the back, singing some old songs from his college days. Mrs. Robinson looked in the mirror whenever he fell silent and smiled. The first few times she looked, he burst into song anew, but as we neared home, the silence was more permanent.

I stretched out my hand toward Mrs. Robinson and she took it. When we pulled into the driveway, I turned to wake Mr. Robinson but found him sitting up, looking between us straight out the front window. I had no idea how long he's been awake and was worried because Mrs. Robinson still held my hand. She only let go to put the gearshift in Park.

We got out and walked to the door. Mr. Robinson slapped me on the back.

"Thanks for the game, son."

"Thank you and Mrs. Robinson for giving me the courage to get the tickets, and paying for them," I replied.

Mrs. Robinson opened the door, stepped inside the house, and waited for us to come in. Mr. Robinson walked past the closets in the entranceway with his shoes still on and went up the stairs to the main floor.

"I think I'll head straight for bed," he said, "but don't let me stop you two from celebrating.

Mrs. Robinson and I watched him walk unsteadily up the stairs. I peeled my jacket off and she kicked off her shoes one at a time. Mrs. Robinson turned to look at me as soon as her husband disappeared. She removed her cardigan sweater and I admired the way her breasts pushed out as each arm pulled out of the sweater. I took a deep breath and brushed my eyes over her entire body, lingering on her legs and that sexy, short pleated skirt.

"Thank you, Allen. He had a great time, better than he's had for years."

"You're welcome. I did too."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

I looked upstairs. The air was heavy with unfulfilled expectation. Mrs. Robinson followed my gaze.

"I bet he's asleep already."

"Do you think so?"

"I do, Mom."

"The light is still on."

"He's gone," I said.

"I hope so, Mrs. Robinson said.

She turned her head away from the stairs and walked into the living room but stopped beside the small couch to the right that I usually sat in. She got onto it with her knees, facing the back, and turned to look at me.

"Don't you want me?" she asked.

I was there in two steps, kneeling behind her. She wouldn't let me nudge her knees apart so I straddled hers. I wasn't capable of finesse and both of us knew it. I shoved my shorts down for the second time that day and grabbed my cock with my right hand. My left hand flipped the skirt up onto Mrs. Robinson's back and then skidded her panties onto her left cheek. The tip of my cock was already bumping behind her, searching for her entrance. I had been aware of her sitting beside me all night and I was more than ready, too ready.

"Oh Allen, so much foreplay," she chuckled but she arched her back and pushed her bum back to help her pussy find my cock.

I slid my hands inside her t-shirt and grasped her tits just as her pussy began squeezing down my shaft. With her knees together like this, she was tight. I got all the way in, slid out part way and pushed back in twice more, then started stroking steadily in and out.

"Oh, you naughty boy, fucking your mommy when Daddy's sleeping upstairs," she cooed.

It sounded childish but it still made me even hornier than I already was. I grabbed her by the shoulders and started heaving into her with gusto.

"Yeah," I cried. "You haven't seen nothing yet. Take this," I grunted, "and this," I gasped, lunging hard.

Mrs. Robinson was shoved into the wall and her head slid up and down it a few inches.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Give it to me," she cried.

So I did. I fucked her hard and didn't slow down even when my thighs slapped loudly against the back of hers. It was rough and desperate. I pulled her away from the wall and twisted her length-ways on the couch, quickly crawling behind her without losing her pussy. She bent right over, her face falling into the couch and I crouched over her, pumping my cock wildly in her hole. Her elbows were tight by her sides and I realized she was hanging on, waiting for my release. Had she come already or had she lost it because of my roughness? The thought of her being finished, and possibly wanting to quit, spurred me on. I lunged deeper and deeper and she cried out. Before the sound died away, I found my release and grabbed her sides as my leg muscles clenched hard with each gushing deposit.

Finished, I stretched over Mrs. Robinson and followed her down as she stretched out and settled onto the couch. I was surprised to find her still dressed. I was wearing my shirt too but had lost my shorts. I nuzzled her neck for a couple of minutes and tried to kiss her.

"Get off me you big oaf," she said.

I rose up enough to let her twist around, then settled between her legs, holding my weight off her by resting on my elbows.

"That was a little rushed," she said.

"I'm sorry. I'll do better next time."

"Not tonight, you won't."

"But Mr. Robinson is fast asleep," I protested.

"Yes, and in a few minutes, I will be too."

"Aww, Mom."

"That won't work anymore tonight, little boy."

She laughed and shoved me off. By the time I managed to get off the floor, she was halfway up the stairs. That night, just before I fell asleep, I wondered about what she'd said the night before, 'I know why you like to call me Mom.' I had to find out why. Maybe I could coax it out of her if I took more time and got her really horny. Anyway, I wanted to be with her for longer. Doing it quick was okay if you were desperate but I wanted more.
​

****​

The next morning Mr. Robinson and I were sitting at the table eating breakfast while Mrs. Robinson sat at the counter making up a shopping list. The counters in the Robinson kitchen were L-shaped and there were three stools situation around the bottom of the 'L', two on the far side and one on the end. Mrs. Robinson sat on the stool off the end. She asked us if there was anything we wanted that she might have forgotten. Mr. Robinson rattled his newspaper, indicating he didn't want to be bothered so Mrs. Robinson called me over to help when I finished my cereal. I put my bowl in the sink and sauntered over to lean against the counter where she was sitting.

"Anything you want that's not on the list?" Mrs. Robinson asked, her bare foot bumping the front of my leg just below the knee.

I craned my neck sideways and read the list as her toes scratched the inside of my leg.

"Nope, don't see anything?"

"Are you sure. Look closer," Mrs. Robinson said, tapping the list with the eraser end of her pencil.

I leaned closer to review the list again. I was down maybe two or three items when she tapped the front of my shorts with the pencil, right on my pecker, which immediately started to swell. I thought it was a mistake until she tapped my cock again, this time leaving the pencil engaged with my shorts.

"Let's see," she said. "We've got wieners,..."

She applied pressure to the pencil and rubbed it down the length of my shaft which felt absolutely fantastic because, by chance, the tip was facing up so the pencil scraped along the more sensitive underside.

"...and bananas,

My cock continued growing as Mrs. Robinson's toes dug into my leg and the pencil rubbed harder up and down my shaft. I looked around to see if Mr. Robinson was still reading the newspaper.

"Pay attention," Mrs. Robinson snapped, painfully flicking the underside of my cock.

I swiveled my head about and looked at the list.

"Do you like zucchini?" she asked.

I groaned, for Mrs. Robinson pressed the pencil firmly against my cock and scraped it down, then pointed it in to slip it between my legs and brought it up to rub my balls.

"Do you, Allen? Do you like zucchini?" she repeated, returning up my shaft.

"Yes," I lied, not wanting to say anything to upset her.

"How about cucumbers?"

The eraser found that sensitive part on the underside of my glans, then rotated and wiggled, sapping the strength from my legs.

"I thought you might like cucumbers," Mrs. Robinson said, pushing the pencil in exquisitely hard and looking up at me with a mischievous smile.

"Yes," I replied. "I do, very much."

"So do I," she gushed, turning the pencil sideways again and rubbing it rapidly up and down my cock.

I stared at the list for the next two minutes while Mrs. Robinson continued rubbing the underside of my cock through my shorts with the pencil. I leaned on the counter with my hands to help keep myself up. I looked at her a couple of times. She was looking up at me with that pesky smile and steamy eyes. She pouted and blew me a kiss, delighting in my discomfort at nearing orgasm with her husband sitting right behind me.

Suddenly, she pulled the pencil away and I nearly gasped at the loss. Dropping it on the counter, she replaced it with her hand, cupping around my shaft and squeezing hard, then softening her grip and rubbing, then squeezing hard again. Less than a minute later, I came, soaking the front of my shorts. Mrs. Robinson released me and picked up the pencil.

"Okay, it looks like we're finished. How about you dear?"

The paper rattled as I presume Mr. Robinson lowered it to look at his wife. My spine stiffened and the hair on the back of my neck bristled.

"Hmmmm?"

"Anything you want me to get at the grocery store?"

"No, can't think of anything."

The paper rattled again. I stepped around Mrs. Robinson and made my way to the stairs.

Later that day, Mrs. Robinson was sitting on the same stool in the kitchen, while I was waiting near the door for Mr. Robinson to come downstairs so we could to check on his boat.

"Come here for a minute, Allen," she called.

As I approached her she looked down at my shorts which made me remember the morning's exercise with the list and caused me to get excited all over again. Just a look from her made me hard.

"I see you're changed your shorts," she said.

"Yes. I, uh...had an accident this morning."

"Did you?" Mrs. Robinson seemed quite amused.

"What kind of accident?" She reached out and snagged my shorts by the waistband.

"It was nothing," I said.

"Nothing? I don't believe that."

Mrs. Robinson pulled me to her and, holding my shorts out at the waistband with one hand, deftly undid my zipper with the other. My cock was free and in her hand before I could say lickety-split.

"Mrs. Robinson, I..."

"Mom," she corrected me.

"Mom, I...uh, Mr. Robinson is right upstairs."

"We're going out to visit some friends tonight, so I won't be able to see you tonight."

My objections melted away, unlike my cock which had hardened proudly in her hands. Mrs. Robinson ducked and my cock was engulfed in her wet, warm mouth. Immediately, she began bobbing her head. My hand curled around her hair, lifting it so I could see her face. What the hell. I started flexing my hips to help her take it deep. A couple of minutes later, fearing I wouldn't be able to finish before Mr. Robinson came downstairs, I grasped her head and began seriously pumping in and out of her mouth. Not much later, Mrs. Robinson accepted my seed within her, accommodating me with ease. She zipped me up and patted my chest.​