Incest/Taboo Show Your Tits, Show Your Tits

I leaned into Katana, kissed her cheek. I stifled another yawn.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, we went to a soiree on campus last night, didn't get in to late, then I had trouble sleeping."

"Would you prefer to nap in the back? Michael could drive."

Saying, "Thanks, that sounds like a great idea," I opened the front passenger door. The van still smelled of sex and the front seat on which Jacob had fucked me was prone. I started to explain.

"I got sleepy on the way back to the hotel and laid the seat back."

I was spitting out my word, protesting too much, drawing attention to something that should be unremarkable. I stopped abruptly, too abruptly.

Katana ran her hand on the fabric and said, "Why don't you two get in the rear seats and take a good snooze."

We piled the luggage on the middle row of seats, Michael got behind the wheel, his mother sat beside him, and Jacob and I climbed into the back. We were asleep before we reached the interstate.

I woke up from a very erotic dream and to my son dragging his big toe - he'd kicked off his sandals - across my foot. I kicked off mine, did the same.

Katana noted us stirring. "You guys awake?"

"Yes," I said, "how long were we asleep?"

"About ninety minutes."

Jacob lay a hand atop my thigh, his palm on my dress, his fingers on my leg. He moved his fingers, caressing my skin.

I checked, we couldn't be seen from the front seat and Katana and Michael seemed pre-occupied. She was sitting next to him, her hand on his neck, stroking his skin and playing with his hair.

I pulled out my phone, typed a message, sent it to Jacob.

"Feels nice."

He smiled and continued; his touch was sweet and sensual. My nipples hardened; I looked down, made sure they couldn't be seen in this dress, then leaned back and sighed contentedly. Encouraged, his hand slid between my legs, caressed my inner thigh; I let my legs drift apart. He started working up my leg. When he approached my sex I clamped my legs shut.

He pulled his phone out, mine pinged, "But I want to..."

I shook my head no. He eased his hand out and ran his fingers atop my thigh. It felt good.

I looked up at the front seat. Katana was leaning against her son.

"You guys okay up there?" I asked.

"We're fine."

Jacob's fingers started back up my thighs. I glanced around, made sure the movement was invisible, slid forward, and opened my legs. Jacob pressed his hand to my panties - damp with arousal - and hooked a finger inside and played with my swollen pussy lips. When I didn't object he pushed the finger into my vagina. He worked my clit with the heel of his hand.

Hands on my knees I leaned back and closed my eyes. After several happy minutes he took my hand in his and brought it to his lap. He'd unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his shorts.

I checked, the luggage in the middle seat would block any view, took hold of his erection, and twisted my hand on it.

The world was my cunt, his cock, the hum of the SUV on the highway.

Jacob started working my sex harder, my hips rocked into his hand.

Then Katana interrupted my reverie. When I heard her say, "I'm getting sleepy, think I'll lay down and take a nap," I opened my eyes. She was looking right at me. I knew I must be wearing a slightly dazed expression, but I was no concern on her pretty face. She didn't know what was going on.

Jacob, his hand still in my panties, said, "Ms. Taylor, the middle seat is packed, you won't be able to drop yours back. Do you want us to move some stuff?"

"No, that won't be necessary, there's enough room up front for me to laydown. It's among the advantages of being short."

She disappeared behind the bench seat.

Michael said, "You guys mind if I play some tunes."

"If it's okay with your mother."

Katana's muffled voice from behind the seat, "That's fine."

Michael turned on the radio. Hits of the Eighties.

My son grew bolder, running his fingertips along my pussy lips, stroking and palpitating the swollen flesh. He explored my vulva, acquainted himself with its recesses, valleys, and folds, then pushed a finger inside me, moved it in and out, up and down, round about. I breathed in short hard gasps, occasionally I moaned, the music drowning it out.

My son kept going. He wanted me to come. He was a naughty boy; he wanted his mother to be a naughty girl.

I checked the front seat. Katana was nowhere to be seen. Mike's left hand was on the steering wheel; his right arm hung down, it was probably in his lap. I glimpsed at his face in the mirror. His expression was blissful, happy, serene, slightly unfocussed. Whatever was foremost in his mind was quite pleasant. He was probably thinking about sex. Of course, that might just be me projecting. I had sex on the brain.

Jacob kept working my snatch. The pleasure between my legs grew ever more fervid. My hand slipped off his penis, my being centered on my cunt. I struggled not to heave my hips into his hand.

Jacob dragged a fingertip across my g-spot. My heart pounded, my cunt pulsated, my breathing was deep and hard. He returned to my g-spot, worked it hard, my gut tightened and then it all let loose. I came and it flowed though me like a river; I let out a low long whine lost in the music on the radio. I slumped over, kissed Jacob's cheek, dug my hand back into his shorts, grabbed his penis. It jumped, I rubbed the pre-cum into the head.

Then the radio was turned off. We were slowing down, pulling to the right, leaving the highway. I turned towards the front seat. Katana was looking at me.

I knew what I must look like, eyes dilated, face flushed. Then I focused on her. Her face was red and her lips slightly swollen, spittle covered her chin. On the corner of her mouth, a white speck. When she saw me staring at it she slipped her tongue from her mouth and in a long exaggerated arc, starting on her chin and moving up and across her cheek, caught it and brought it into her mouth.

She winked at me and said, "It's amazing. My son had gotten all stiff up here. I thought I'd solved the problem, but now I feel it happening again. He and I are going for a little walk, to find a way to work that stiffness out of him."

We'd come to a halt. The countryside was heavily wooded; there was no sign of human life.

I squeezed Jacob's erection. While she couldn't see it, the movement of my arm left little to the imagination.

"That's an excellent suggestion, it appears my son is stiff also."

The four of us headed in opposite directions. After 100 yards Jacob and I found a secluded spot. I leaned against a tree, spread my legs, and looked over my shoulder.

"Fuck my horny cunt."

I'd left my panties in the car.
​

* * * *​

We met back at the truck. Katana and Mike had the same happy lazy looks on their faces as Jacob and I.
​

* * * *​

At home Jacob and I resumed the life we'd built over the past year. When we went to the gym, hung out on weekends, or went out on a weekday night it did not draw attention. That my husband preferred hanging with his buddies gave Jacob and I plenty of time to fuck like the oversexed animals we'd become.

My husband, especially after a few beers, was a sound sleeper, and I often slipped into Jacob's bed in the middle of the night, returning to my husband's bed sweaty, satiated, and dripping Jacob's cum.

That my marriage was over was clear. I knew I'd accompany Jacob to college. But what of Bruce? He was a decent man; he had done nothing to deserve his wife leaving him; it was I, not he, that had changed. He was what he'd always been, a pleasant amiable man, popular and well-liked, a good provider, faithful and loyal.
​

* * * *​

Despite the gang's all for one, one for all persona, it was like any group of people. There were the honest and dishonest, the forthright and two-faced, the generous and the selfish. There was also the normal number of affairs, sleeping around, and cheating, even rumors of experiments with spouse swapping. And, as I'd grown closer to Jacob and more distant from my husband, I'd noticed some of the women, thinking there was a problem with our marriage, sniffing around my husband.

I'm not such a hypocrite to be offended by the notion that my husband might have an affair. In fact, I hoped for one, it would be an opportunity to ease out of my marriage and not leave Bruce alone; he needed a woman to take care of him. But the ones sniffing around, they were not the right ones. Betty Rhodes was the right one.

Betty had lost her husband to cancer nearly two years ago. He'd been in his mid-fifties, Betty twenty years younger. Devoted to each other, they never said an unkind word or, as far as I could tell, had an unkind thought about each other or anyone else. We weren't friends, we had few common interests, but she was someone I genuinely liked and respected.

For the first year after her husband's death she'd turned down all offers of a date. Over the last few months she had accompanied several men to various events, but no one more than a few times.

I started to befriend her. When there were conflicts between my work or work-out schedule and the gang's activities, I asked her to accompany Bruce. That they got along, that they liked each other, was clear. However, as best I could figure, what I wanted, an affair, was not taking place.
​

* * * *​

Betty was hosting the July 4th party that year; the first time she'd had the gang over since her husband's death. It was a coming out party of sorts and she was having a great time.

Jacob and I were at the food table. He was wearing short shorts and a tight pull-over shirt in my favorite colors. He looked magnificent. He also knew the effect that outfit would have on me. I wanted him bad, real bad. Gesturing to two chairs at the edge of the yard, I said, "Honey, why don't you fix us both plates and meet me over there, I'll be right back."

Inside, in the bathroom, I peeled the wet panties off my body,

Jacob was sitting in a cheap plastic chair - if it could it would be groaning under his weight - his back to the crowd. I sat in a lawn chair facing him, resting my foot against his leg. He drew circles atop my thigh with a finger.

Looking at the powerful erection outlined in his shorts, I took a quick glance around, said, "I want you," leaned forward and (could I really get away with this?) ran my finger down his dick, then slipped him my panties.

Jacob suddenly straightening up said, "Hey Ms. Rhodes."

Had we been caught? If so, Betty's sweet voice carried no sign of it. "Hey you two, we're cutting America's birthday cake. Why don't you join us at the table."

As she walked off Jacob brought my panties to his face, took a deep whiff, and stuffed them in his pocket.
​

* * * *​

Jacob and I cut two pieces of cake and joined a group sitting at a large wooden picnic table. It was getting dark, much alcohol had been consumed. I reached under the table and fondled my son's erection. His hand went to my knee; I spread my legs, inviting him to go further. He did, grazing my bare sex - I was happy I'd shaven that morning - and pushed a finger inside me. I groaned, the sound indecipherable in the surrounding din.

He rocked the finger inside me.

I wanted to take my breasts in my hand and squeeze the warm flesh, crush the hard nipples.

My husband stood. "Hey everybody fireworks in ten minutes. Let's get ready."

The front yard provided a first rate view of the neighborhood's firework display. The plan was to watch that, then set off our own.

I stood, approached Betty, and said, "Thank you Betty, its been a wonderful party. Why don't you go and enjoy the show. Jacob and I will put the food in the frig, we don't want it to spoil in the heat, then join you out front."

Betty started to tell me not to bother, paused, and said. "Thank you dear, that's very kind."

We scooped up several items, headed for the house, stuffed them in the refrigerator. Jacob took me in his arms and kissed me. The kiss was savage, our sex play in the presence of his father and friends had set flame to both our libidos. Adrenaline flooded my system; my son's face flushed red. No one would notice if we skipped the fireworks and made some of our own. I grabbed his hand, hurried him through the kitchen up the stairs and into the first bedroom I could find. The curtains were pulled back, we had a clear view of the front lawn, but the room was dark. No one would see us.

I tuned to face him, put my hand on his shoulder, kissed his lips.

"God, do I want you."

He turned me towards the window. As I looked at my husband and his friends Jacob's muscular arms circled my waist and his rigid cock was pressed to my butt. I turned my head, kissed him, loving the smell and warmth of his body. He kissed the back of my neck, my shoulders, slid his hands down my body to my ass, told me it was hard, athletic, perfect. While his tongue explored my ear his hands remained on my backside, massaging and kneading the flesh. He unbuttoned my dress, let it fall to the floor, then undid my bra and tossed it on the bed. Except for my sandals I was nude.

Jacob knelt, kissed each butt-cheek, told me he loved me, that I was beautiful and wonderful and sexy. He reached between my legs to my pussy lips. They were wet and swollen, my clit throbbed, there was a tingle deep inside me. He bit an ass cheek; I moaned. He bit the other; I gasped, long and loud. No one could hear me, fireworks were exploding throughout the city. His tongue went to my asshole, licking leisurely and lightly. The tip of his tongue wriggled inside me. I felt the sensations in my cunt.

Jacob and I had discussed anal intercourse. I'd told him someday; that I had to get used to the idea. Now his tongue pushed inside me. At first I tensed, no one had ever been there, and then had another thought: it could be the part of me only my son would experience; something I had unknowingly reserved for him my entire life.

It was also wrong and deviant, contrary to the values of our subdivision, of my husband's friends. I looked out the window, they were all out there, celebrating. To be taken surrounded by them, it would be so dirty. I was ready.

My son kept tonguing my butthole, telling me how good I tasted. I relaxed, his tongue swirled on my anus, then wiggled its way inside. I shuddered and squealed, held my butt cheeks open, he tongue fucked me.

He'd found nerve endings I didn't know I had; arousal radiated through me.

I reached for my clit, dragged a finger across it, and said, "Jacob darling, maybe its time you sodomized your mother."

He stood, kissed the back of my head, said, "You sure."

"Yeah, but be careful, its my first time."

"I will, and I saw just the thing on Ms. Rhodes' night stand."

He took two steps back, picked something up, and handed me a tube of Astroglide Gel, a lubricant designed for sex. Apparently Betty had more fun than I'd given her credit for. Where did she hid her toys?

"We can't use this, its not ours."

"Neither is the room."

He was right and I was being slightly ridiculous. I was about to fuck my son in Betty's bedroom but was worrying about a dollop of her lubricant? It would not be missed.

I put a big dab on my index finger, sank it into my asshole, moved it about. It fell surprisingly good.

I pulled my finger from my asshole, licked it, handed him the lubricant to Jacob. He squeezed some on his finger. Thinking what good would such a tiny amount do on his oversized cock, I tensed up and my asshole tightened. I took several deep breaths, calming myself, turned to the window, planted my hands on the sill, and tilted my butt up. A single finger, coated with gel, slipped inside me and my son finger-fucked my ass, spreading the lubricant around. A sweet warmth filled my rump.

Another finger joined the first. I whispered, "That feels good."

"Would I hurt my sexy mother?"

No, he wouldn't. My son loved me, he'd do anything for me, as I would for him. Yes, I'd give him my asshole, give it to him with my husband and his friends mere feet away. Using the muscles I had spent so many hours in the gym perfecting, I clamped down on his fingers, moaning in growing lust.

Jacob brought a hand to my clit, rubbed it in a tight circle, catalyzing the wicked sensations flowing through me. A third finger entered my asshole; the fingers on my clit grew more insistent. I imagined what the people in the yard would think if they looked up and saw us: hard-bodied mother, naked, a sex-toy for her fully clothed son. They'd call us perverts, but how many of the women, in their hearts, would envy me my perfect lover.

His fingers kept moving; my nerve endings crackled, the discomfort receding into memory. An orgasm was building inside me. I closed my eyes, concentrated on my clit, on my asshole, squealed in delight. I was a sexual animal, drenched in libidinous pleasure, celebrating my body without reference to rules or mores.

I squeezed my breasts, twisted the nipples, adding that pain/pleasure to the cauldron between my legs and the fingers twisting in my asshole. Jacob rolled my clit against my body; a fire burned through my mind. My legs wobbled. I placed my hands on the window and writhing moaning grinding, came. I slumped forward, my face pressed to the glass. Juice ran down my thighs.

Several fireworks exploded above a nearby yard. If anyone had looked up, they'd have seen me. At the thought my nipples tightened, there was a throbbing deep within my sex.

"Take me Jacob, take me."

Jacob kicked off his shorts. I reached around to place his rock-hard erection at the opening of my well-lubed ass.

"Now son, take me."

He bucked the head inside me with a short thrust. I whimpered, told him it hurt, that I wanted more. He stroked his hands along my body, told me he'd stop if I wanted him to. The pain began to subside. I nodded and another inch was pushed into me. I shuddered: pain came, diminished, drained away.

Inch-by-inch he filled my most intimate part. When his balls reached my ass I turned, bit his lip, kissed him, pushed my tongue into his mouth. His strong hands kneaded my tits. He flexed his cock inside me; my cunt tingled.

A ball of light filled the backyard. Pressed against the window like this, when the fireworks went off I'd be visible.

To be found out, exposed.

I swallowed, whispered, "Be gentle," and pushed back. He started sliding his cock in and out of me, each thrust a little harder, a little deeper. My body was his.

He ran his knowing hands over my skin, sang my praises, told me how beautiful I was, how much he loved me. What had been deviant and unnatural morphed into the perfect, the divine.

The pain continued, but now it focused, intensified the joy. My son moved more rapidly, each stroke bottoming out deep in my ass. I moaned, squeezed my rectal muscles, whimpered, "It feels so good."

I watched and heard the fireworks explode, watched and heard the crowd in the back yard. I was something they would never understand, a licentious dirty son-fucking mother. And the dirtier I felt, the higher I flew.

I felt sorry for them, they'd never know this kind of incestuous delight.

My son was grunting, his fuck-rhythm rapid and hard. I knew that sound, those motions, his climax was approaching. I flexed the muscles of my ass, clamped down on his cock, narrowing the chute, milking his dick. I begged him to dump his seed inside me, told him I was his whore, his slut, his cunt, his whatever-he-wanted.

He took hold of my hips, pulled me into him. I howled, begged him to use my body, to fill my asshole.

He moved up on his toes, drove his cock deeper into my asshole, flattened me on the window, hollered my name, came. Pinned to the window, I flexed the well-developed muscles of my rump, drawing spurt after spurt of white hot cum. His cum sloshed about inside me as his tool softened and shrunk. Finally, I turned, feeling his half-hard dick slide from my butt, wrapped my arms around him, told him he was wonderful, that I loved him. He said I was beautiful, that I'd made all his dreams come true.

I reached behind, caught some of his cum dripping from my asshole, licked it off my finger.

"From now on honey, the backdoor is open for business."

My hands on the side of his face, I brought his lips to mine. His tongue entered my mouth; more drops of cum slithered out my ass. When the kiss ended he dropped to his knees and licked me, asshole to clit. I leaned against the window and stroked his hair. His tongue pushed inside my pussy, slurping down the cream bubbling from within. I placed a hand on the back of his head and ground my sex on his face. He flicked my clit with his talented tongue; I squealed, took hold of my breasts, rolled my nipples between my fingers, cried out. I bucked against him, reached down, placed an open hand on the back of his head, held him in place.

I took a long whiff, I could smell my own arousal. Hopefully, it would dissipate before Betty went to bed.

Then I heard it, footsteps coming down the hall, towards the bed room.

I stated to push Jacob away, but then heard Betty's voice yelling from downstairs, "Jeffrey, the upstairs bathroom is the other way, you turned in the wrong direction."

As the steps receded Jacob slipped a finger into my ass, wriggled it, and munched on my sex with single-minded intensity. One hand still on his head, I used the other to bring my breast to my mouth and licked, then bit, the nipple. As the fireworks outside concluded in a grand finale of fiery explosions, so did I, howling my delight as I came on my son's face, then again, then again. Finally I had to push him away; my cunt had reached its limits, for the moment far to sensitive to touch.
​

* * * *​

As I put my clothes back on I watched Betty chatting with my husband. Was she finally showing some romantic interest in him? Then my son, re-joining the party, approached his father to say hello. As they talked I could have sworn Betty glanced up at me.
​

* * * *​

The next day Betty called, said she was shopping downtown, asked me to lunch.

We exchanged pleasantries. She was neither hostile or angry, I'd feared both. Instead she started a story. I listened, asked an occasional question.

"My parents adored each other, although she was as much mother as wife. Dad was a sweet man, amiable, well-liked, but he couldn't take care of himself; he didn't know how to operate a toaster. Mom looked after all his needs. It became my norm. My friend's moms didn't act that way, I just figured they were mean.

"Mom passed when I was twelve. Dad was lost, didn't know what to do. I slipped into her role, took care of him. He was never particularly good with the ladies, Mom was his high school sweetheart, I don't think they ever dated anyone besides each other. Some of the neighborhood women made plays for him, but Dad didn't understand, he didn't know how to flirt. And if something even hinted at getting started, I'd squelch it; Daddy was mine.

"When I turned eighteen we became lovers. He wasn't that demanding. I wanted it more than he did. We did it once or twice a week, at night, lights off, him on top.

"When he passed I married George. Like Daddy, he was older, well-liked, amiable, and he needed someone to take care of him.

"I've been wondering why you've been pushing me at your husband. You're right, Bruce is the type of man I'm attracted to, but he's also not the kind of man to cheat. And then last night I saw why, I saw you and Jacob, it clearly was not your first time and not the kind of sex I suspect Bruce brings to the marriage.

"Don't worry, I kept my eye on everyone. No one else saw.

"Bruce said that your son is going to college in St. Louis. My guess is that you're going with him, but you don't want to abandon Bruce, you want someone else to take care of him, you're hoping it would me."

I felt ashamed. Betty made it sound like I was playing God, but not particularly well.

Betty took my hand in hers. "I'm sorry dear, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm in no position to judge you, after all I was my father's lover."

I said, "No, its not that. At first with Jacob, I had doubts, it was against all the rules, but now I'm certain, he and I should be together. No, its just that I hadn't thought about it, but I've been a scheming bitch, trying to manipulate you and Bruce. I apologize."

"Accepted. But there is no reason to apologize. You're right, Bruce is what I want in a husband and while I may look and act sweet, I tend to get what I want. He'll be mine."
​

* * * *​

In August I told Bruce the Department of Transportation was transferring me to its St. Louis office and that Jacob and I would rent a condominium together while I figured out the lay of the land.

Occasionally, and ever less frequently, I came home on the weekends. Bruce, always involved with the gang, never made the trip to St. Louis and I didn't encourage him. We had only one bed. On my last trip Bruce asked for a divorce, said we'd grown apart. I feigned surprise (Betty had let me know it was coming), but did not make a scene, acknowledging that I'd also felt a growing distance between us.

That night he and Betty became lovers.
​