Incest/Taboo Mom Tries Belly Dancing

"He knows that will be leaving me alone. He's a smart boy."

"Yes, well, would you rather break his heart now? He loves you, as a woman. I can see it every time he looks at you."

"I know."

"You can't just stop after giving him such a tasty mouthful. He'll never forget and will always wonder what it would have been like."

Mom looked away from Carol and she leaned toward Mom. "Oh my God, Lisa. You haven't?" There was a shocked pause. "You have!"

Carol straightened up and glanced toward me while Mom was still looking away. She looked pleased.

"Then you must continue, Lisa, for his sake. Think of him. You can't break it off. You must let him tire of you. You understand that, don't you."

"Yes, I guess so. But it's so dangerous."

"You're a grown woman. You can manage it."

"I don't know, Carol."

"Yes, you do. Now go. Your son is waiting to take you home."

Mom looked across the entrance at me and smiled. I smiled back and got up when she did. As Mom walked toward me, Carol looked over her shoulder and smiled, a secretive, knowing smile. Years later, when my wife and I were visiting the cathedral in Avignon, we overheard the conversation of another couple standing opposite us at least fifty feet away as if we were standing right next to them. I wondered then if Lady Alexandra knew I could hear the conversation between her and Mom. I'm almost positive now she did.

Mom didn't want to see the city lights on the way home but the house was dark and Dad had already gone to bed when we arrived. My hopes surged but Mom began removing her earrings as she headed for the stairs, already getting ready for bed.

"Stay downstairs, Curtis. I want to talk to you."

There was an air of finality about Mom's voice.

"Can't it wait until tomorrow. I'm kind of tired."

I wasn't sure I was ready to hear what Mom had to say. At least, not tonight. Her tone made me think she had changed her mind about Carol's advice. If she waited for another day, maybe she would change her mind again. Like she had said to Carol, she was all over the map. Tomorrow was another day and might be sunnier than this one.

"Well, get changed and then come back downstairs. What I have to say can't wait until tomorrow. It has to be said tonight."

I really didn't like the sound of that. I followed Mom up the stairs and she seemed irked that I wasn't staying downstairs as she asked. I watched the sway of her hips and the muscles tensing in alternate calves as if it was the last time I would be able to savor their grace. I wanted to touch her, to grasp her waist and tell her not to be silly, that she should let me hold her and kiss her. Instead, I went meekly to my room and changed out of my good clothes. I put on my pajamas and, expecting the worst, wrapped a bathrobe around me and went downstairs to wait for Mom.

I was sitting in Dad's chair so I didn't see Mom until her bare foot negotiated the last stair, seeming to pause in mid-air as if to allow me to appreciate its elegance one last time. My breath caught in my mouth when I noticed Mom wasn't wearing a robe like I expected. Her hair was still done up and she was wearing the green dress!

"Stand up, Curtis."

I got up, apprehensive and wishing I had remained in my good clothes, yet eager. Mom took my hand and led me out of the living room and into the dark kitchen. Once through the door, Mom pulled the pocket door closed, providing a sound break from the rest of the house. Did she expect me to cry or react angrily to what she had to say?

Mom walked to the breakfast island and put a foot up on the bottom rung of one of the stools.

"You need to understand something about me, Curtis."

"I already know, Mom."

Mom was annoyed by the interruption.

"No Curtis, you don't," she snapped.

I shrugged. This wasn't going to be good, green dress notwithstanding.

"I'm going to be frank."

If Mom had smoked, I would have pictured her taking a long drag on a cigarette and blowing smoke at me before her next words.

"I loved your father very much. At least, I thought I did, but after a few years I realized I was more enamored with the thought of being married than the act. I had been playing house and I was too uptight to enjoy myself…in bed. I didn't like the things your father wanted to do. I thought they were lewd but might have gone along if he wasn't so clumsy. If he'd been more sensitive and I'd been less prudish…but I wasn't and neither was he, and then he quit trying. By the time I realized it, we had killed what little passion there had been in our marriage."

Mom paused to let her words sink in, then continued. I almost coughed in the imaginary smoke.

"You father and I lived for years, with fondness, but basically just going through the motions. Your father sought satisfaction elsewhere and I pretended not to know. I was a disinterested wife but a happy mother who was glad he was distracted."

I nodded sagely as if I knew where Mom was going with all this.

"Then I met Carol. She had lived a completely different life, consumed by a passionate relationship with her husband, but then he was gone, dead from a sudden heart attack. Her life became empty and she was ready to end it but her son saved her."

"I thought her husband left her?" I blurted.

Mom looked surprised by my ignorance.

"No, he died. Anyway, Mark was beside himself with worry and started doing everything as Carol became more and more depressed, cooking, cleaning, even dressing and undressing her. She relied on him for everything and one night, while he was putting her to bed, he reacted to her as a woman rather than his ailing mother."

Mom took a deep breath and I wondered if she paused to let that last bit sink in.

"Nothing happened, of course. Mark didn't actually do anything, but they both knew what each other had felt and it made Carol feel like a woman again. She said it felt like magic."

"Anyway, that's when Carol began dancing for Mark. She told him it was to provide affordable entertainment for the restaurant and even believed that herself, at first, but things started to happen and, in the end, Carol couldn't stop herself from making them happen."

Mom took another deep breath.

"So…I think you know how that story applies to us. I was in a rut, looking for something that could inject some excitement in my life. I started belly dancing because Jenny said it was really good exercise without being boring. So I tried it. One day, Carol was the special guest for our class and she asked me to join her for a coffee later."

Mom paused.

"She saw something in me, she said, that would make me a great belly dancer. I wanted to believe her because I needed something new in my life so I leapt at the chance when she offered me private lessons."

"I improved quickly under Carol's tutelage but the time came when Carol said to get better I needed to perform. I loved dancing with others in class but was afraid to do it for people who were just watching. Carol said she had felt the same but her son, who had been so helpful with everything else, came to the rescue and she thought that would be the best option for me too. I explained that my situation wasn't the same, that I had no restaurant I needed to provide entertainment for, but Carol suggested I simply let you 'discover' me practising."

"I didn't want to but I did. You came home much earlier than I expected and I was truly was surprised. I was very nervous. I thought you might laugh at me but your reaction made me feel so good about myself. I felt alive, like a woman again, and that's a powerful drug for a woman, one that's very hard to control. It wasn't hard to convince myself to let you surprise me again and, after that, I was hooked. I pretended it was just a little harmless flirting to wash my guilt away."

"Carol and I became friends and we confided in each other. She told me more about her relationship with her son. I was shocked but intrigued. I talked you into taking me for dinner because I wanted to go on a 'date' with you the way Carol said Mark did with her just to get her out and about. I lost control but now I've come to my senses."

Mom looked at me and I waited for her to go on but she didn't. Her eyes welled up with tears.

"Being a good mother was all I had and I threw it away on a middle-age crisis. What must you think of me? How can you remember me as your mother rather than a desperate slut?"

I started to go to her but Mom shook her head and stiffened, holding her hand up in an emphatic gesture to stop. She dropped her foot from the rung and straightened up.

"So, I've come to a decision."

Shit, she wasn't even going to let me argue my case. I spoke up anyway but Mom shushed me.

"Come here," she said.

I stepped close to Mom but as soon as I got near she turned her back to me.

"Put your arms around me," she said.

I put my arms around Mom's shoulders but she pushed my hands down and pulled them around her waist and snuggled them around her belly. I tried not to think about the weight of her round, unrestrained breasts sagging on my forearms.

I shook my head and told myself to smarten up. Mom was obviously upset and this couldn't be easy for her. I told myself to give her a nice hug and to comfort her with soothing words that demonstrated my understanding. Don't be selfish, for Christ's sake. I leaned forward to nestle my head against Mom's and hugged her tight.

"I don't think I can dance for you anymore, Curtis."

"That's okay, Mom."

I nuzzled the back of her head.

"You like my hair done up, don't you?"

"Yes," I agreed. "Your neck is so graceful."

It was the truth but it didn't hurt to compliment her on something so fine as the delicate beauty of her neck.

"I'm trying to think of what we can do that will be proper but still allow us to remain close. I think wearing dresses that you like, and doing my hair the way you like it, would be okay, don't you think?"

"Sure, Mom. I don't see why not."

"And you can hug me like this. That should be okay."

I squeezed Mom tighter in silent agreement but pulled my hips back because there were already rustlings down south due to the soft impact of her behind.

"And you could kiss me on the cheek."

Mom tilted her head to the left and I dutifully applied a light brushing of my lips to her right jaw.

"And my neck, since you like it so much."

I hesitated for a second or two, partly because that caught me off guard and partly because I was afraid to kiss the nape of Mom's neck because she was right, I did love her neck, but it was more sensual than I cared to admit at that moment.

"You can kiss it, if you want to," Mom whispered.

I tilted my head forward and tentatively dropped my lips onto the crook of Mom's neck. I kissed it briefly.

"Don't be shy. It's one of the things you can do."

I nibbled Mom's neck and quickly withdrew.

"You can do it as much as you want, when we're alone," Mom giggled.

Her light-heartedness encouraged me and I brushed my lips the full length of Mom's shoulder, back and forth several times. Mom reacted as if tickled, flinching and pushing her behind against my groin. I pulled away.

"Don't let me fall," Mom complained. "That makes me a little weak in the knees."

I nestled up against Mom's back, renewing contact with her behind.

"That's better. Kiss the other side."

I caressed the other shoulder, then switched back to the right without waiting to be asked. I also kissed both of Mom's cheeks and even nibbled her right ear.

"Oh. You haven't done that before but I guess it's okay."

I nibbled Mom's left ear, kissed her shoulder, and returned to the right. Mom flinched several times from the lightness of my lips and pressed her behind against me each time.

"You know what your father used to want me to do?"

I didn't want to know but I also wanted Mom to keep talking so I could keep doing things with her.

"What?" I murmured.

"He always wanted me to turn over."

"Turn over?"

"Yes, so he could get behind me, like you are now, except we were lying down."

"Oh."

"Press against me."

"What?"

"Press against me."

I pressed firmly against Mom's behind."

"Harder."

I pressed harder and my bulge nudged between Mom's cheeks.

"That's it, like that. I always wondered why he wanted to do it that way. I thought he didn't want to look at me anymore and it made me feel bad about myself."

"Oh."

I wondered why Mom would have thought that. Women think differently than men.

"Carol thought that was hilarious."

"You told Carol?"

"Yes. I told you, we became confidants. Keep pressing."

I pulled my robe open and pressed my bulge into Mom's ass and she rolled it against my pajamas.

"It feels nice the way you do it but your father was too rough."

I rubbed too hard and my arms slipped up above the counter, pressing directly onto the front of Mom's breasts.

"Oops, sorry Mom."

"That's okay. Maybe if your father had done that, it might have turned out differently."

"Why?"

"Because…you know, my breasts are so sensitive."

"Right, I forgot."

"You can touch them if you want to."

Had I heard that right?

"Touch them," Mom said.

I opened my arms so I could get my hands on Mom's dress. Carefully, I pressed my open palms lightly against the front of her dress.

"Not just the dress, silly."

I found Mom's breasts and squeezed.

"Oh yes. Maybe if your father had done that, I might have stayed on my tummy for him."

I squeezed Mom's breasts again, found the bumps her nipples under the dress, and let my fingers bunch the material around them. I can't describe how exhilerating it was to feel the round weight of Mom's breasts. I swept away the nagging feeling that I wouldn't be strong enough to handle the disappointment when I reached the point where Mom would draw the line. After all, I was already past where I thought it would lie.

"Try it inside."

Despite the surprise of already advancing further than expected, I didn't wait for Mom to repeat the instruction. I crossed my arms and slipped my hands inside the deeply cut bodice of the green dress, right hand on left tit and left hand on the right. I squeezed and this time, when I pinched, I found her erect nipples and tugged them outward. Mom sucked her breath in hard, and I ground my groin into her ass, finding a pleasing, rolling acceptance.

"Ohhh baby, if your father had done this I definitely would have let him turn me over."

I was annoyed by the mention of my father again so I pulled and squeezed Mom's tits and teased and tugged her nipples while grinding my cock into her accommodating ass and nibbled on her neck and ears, trying to make her forget about him. Mom raised her hands, pulled her hair apart, and shook it out. It was a simple act of abandon and the thrill of it jolted me into more fervent rubbing of her behind, rocking her forward onto the counter.

Abruptly, Mom pushed against the counter and shoved me off. I stood, shocked and opened-armed, wavering two feet behind her, the tent in my pajamas now huge. Mom turned toward me but didn't look me in the face.

"I'm sorry, Curtis, but I just can't," she cried, scurrying to the kitchen door. She yanked the pocket door open and ran through the door, but into the living room rather than upstairs.

I followed. I felt terrible about what I'd done, even though Mom seemed to have encouraged it, and wanted to apologize. She said herself that her feelings were hard to control. I saw her in the darkness, standing in front of the couch, facing the wall. Her shoulders shook. She was crying. I stepped cautiously toward her.

"Mom? Are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Mom didn't answer but her shoulders shook as if my presence caused her further grief. Nevertheless, I quietly approached her and put my hands on the outside of her shoulders to steady them, hoping to constrain the sorrow welling up inside her.

My knees bumped the back of Mom's. She kneeled on the couch and leaned braced herself with her hands against the back of the couch. Her head tilted forward until it touched the wall. Her shoulders were racked with another bout of grief and the pain of it stabbed me in the heart. A huge urge to console Mom overwhelmed me and I was about to kneel behind her, to gather her into my arms, when she did something that stopped me in my tracks.

Mom reached back and put her hands on her supple buttocks, then pulled the green dress up until her bottom was half bare, clearly showing in the muted light the lack of panties to contain her quivering cheeks. What the hell?

Mom was laughing, her shoulders quietly heaving. She was laughing! Her head swiveled around to face me and I saw the sparkle of mirth in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Curtis. I couldn't help myself. You were so serious it was funny."

Mom's smile faded and her eyes turned apologetic.

"But it really is true that I've never had it from behind. Is it really good that way?"

To say I was dumbfounded is an enormous understatement. Mom had been playing with me the whole time. I picked my jaw up from the floor. Though her expression was apologetic, I sensed she was still teasing me.

"Unzip my dress, baby."

I reached out to the back of the green dress to search for the zipper while looking down as Mom's hands slid higher, baring all of her buttocks. They swept out from her waist to form two slightly sagging yet supple half pears of flesh surrounding the most inviting divide. I fumbled for a ridiculously long time with the zipper, not sparing a single glance to find it. Eventually I succeeded and pulled it down.

"Hold my tits, baby," Mom demanded more than asked but I defied her, grasping two handfuls of meaty buttock and squeezing harder than I should have, especially after hearing her complain about how rough my father was. I grunted my appreciation for her quivering flesh and spread her cheeks.

"Don't worry about being noisy, baby. I gave your father a sleeping pill before we left for Milo's."

I didn't care. Nothing could stop me now, not even if my father came down the stairs at that moment. I slapped each cheek, then slipped my hands inside the green dress and around the front to cup Mom's bare tits. They fell into my hands, firm and alive, with hard, fiery nipples. Mom moaned as my fingers closed around them and her hands reached beyond her ass to pull my pajamas down, freeing my hardness which sprang lustfully against her cheeks with an audible smack.

"Is it so wrong of me, baby, to want you so much?"

"No," I gasped.

"To want your love inside me?"

"No," I rasped.

"To feel your cock?"

I grunted.

"From behind?" Mom gasped.

I pushed into Mom's ass, between her cheeks, felt my tip slide down until she widened and I fell into her puffy lips, settling on her groove and pushed in, skidding through her wetness, finding her hole and slithering inside, sensing squeezing resistance. I pushed, forcing her channel to accept my swollen penis as Mom moaned and hung her head. I thrust upward until I was buried, pressing her ass flesh forward, and dropped my mouth onto the nape of Mom's neck, biting. Mom reared her head up and I withdrew my cock, then slammed it up it a forceful thrust that lifted her off her knees.

"Take me hard, baby," she cried.

I launched into her, out of my mind, feverishly banging her behind, oblivious of the slapping sounds that should have alarmed us both. I grasped Mom's poor tits and squeezed hard, but she seemed to enjoy the roughness despite what she had said. At some point, we fell sideways. I tried to turn Mom up to face me so I could take her the way I had before, pushing her knees back to her shoulders, but she twisted onto her stomach and pushed her ass up so I straddled her and buried myself to the hilt in her from behind again, and pounded on her like I was riding a bucking filly until we were both done.​