Incest/Taboo Son Rise

I couldn't sleep. I turned on the light and went to the bathroom. Quietly, I soaped myself and sponged myself off. Clean and refreshed, I returned to bed to read. I propped up the pillows and leaned over to get my book from the side table, and saw them. My lover had left his shorts on the floor. I got up and picked them up. Best not to leave these for Ken to step over when he came in to kiss me in the morning. Not that he'd see them. He would literally step on them and not see them.

I laughed but it was an awkward chuckle. Evidently, my secret lover wore the same kind of underwear as my son, those tight, stretchy black boxers that looked almost like cycling shorts, very flattering for the young but not so much for older men. I stuffed them under my pillow to throw away in the morning. I didn't need any souvenirs lying around.

I wasn't able to read more than half a page. I couldn't concentrate so I shut the light off and turned over.
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I awoke horny. An amazing feeling that I had never actually experienced before, in the morning that is, upon awakening. I was lying on my side, facing the bathroom. My thoughts immediately turned to my lover's visit the night before and how I would make it through the week until he came again. I looked at the clock. After ten! Wow, had I ever slept in. I didn't remember Ken coming in though I'm sure he had before leaving for the boat. It was Sunday, and weekends were for the precious boat.

I turned onto my stomach and my hands found themselves underneath my loins. Surprise, surprise. I was still naked. I placed my palms on either side of my pubes and used them to pull myself apart, the way my lover had teased me last night. I wished he was here to fuck me now. Crap, what a horny old bag I was. Mmm. I pressed myself into my hands and pictured him behind me, an almost faceless man with rich, dark hair, hovering above my ass with his nice big cock dangling down between my open legs.

Faceless? Why was that? True, my memory of his face wasn't perfect but I could remember well enough to recognize him if I saw him, so why was his face featureless in my dream? Whatever. I shifted my attention to his strong young physique hovering over me, ready to...

Jesus Christ! I whirled around, or I tried to. A hand was holding me down, pressing firmly into m back. I tried to turn my head but the hand moved up to hold my head. It was him!

My panic subsided, for a moment. What about Jamie? I tried to lift my head again but gave up under the firm but gentle pressure to stay still. He didn't want me to see him. He must know I knew who he was, why else would I succumb like this? Of course he did, but it was part of the game, an integral piece of our seductive adventure. Jamie must have gone out or my lover wouldn't be here. Sneaking in to fuck me in the dead of night was one thing but the middle of the morning was quite another. No, I'm sure he had seen Jamie leave, just like yesterday. I relaxed.

Be careful what you wish for, I thought. You just might get it.

I chuckled at my joke. I was so amusing. My lover was pulling the covers off. He threw them over the end of the bed. I was completely naked before him and my lungs filled with air and excitement. I was so ready for him.

He straddled my legs and slid a piece of cloth under my head, a black kerchief, placed it across my eyes and pulled it around my head to tie it off. Blindfolded, huh? Alright. I squiggled into the mattress, barely able to contain myself for what was to come. I awaited his first tentative touch, to be followed, I was sure, by delicate tracings all over my back and legs and ass. I shivered.

I couldn't have been more surprised when my lover's hand plunged between my closed legs, high up just under my bum, and dug through the fleshiest part of my legs to my pussy. Without ceremony, and certainly without delicacy, he shoved his fingers into my admittedly moist pussy, right into my cunt.

"Oh God," I moaned, lifting my head.

"Shhhhh," he barked, pressing my face back into the pillow.

He was twisting his fingers inside me and, God forgive me, I was reacting, almost instantly becoming very wet. He grunted in satisfaction when I lifted my ass for more. I couldn't open my legs wider with his knees on either side of them but I pressed my tummy into the bed and pushed my ass up. He started finger fucking me then, starting slow but steadily working faster. He didn't go deeper, but his thrusts were firmer, and harder, and he paused each time he reached the end of a thrust as if to emphasize the intrusion. I didn't think I'd like it but it felt surprisingly good, much like the way he fucked me.

He kept his free hand on the back of my head to hold me firmly in place, though there wasn't any need. I had buried my face in the pillow of my own accord, perhaps ashamed of the way my body was responding, the way I wantonly threw my ass up at the end of each assault as he withdrew, begging for more, moaning my need.

Just when I thought I was about to come, when I almost didn't care about his cock because his fingers felt so fine, he pulled all the way out and left me hanging, literally, in the air, my ass arched way up. His hand grasped my leg, curling around my right thigh and pulled it apart. Shifting himself between my legs, he pushed the left out wide too. My legs were now spread wide, very wide.

He was looking at me, the way he liked to do, looking at the lewd display of my soaking wet pussy quivering before him, desperately in need of his fingers or his cock. I moaned, urging him to continue.

His hands grasped my cheeks and spread them open. I knew my asshole was open for his inspection and my pussy stretched wide so he could see my wet cunt.

Please, just fuck me now.

He moved one hand to my crack and dipped his thumb into it, rubbing over my dirty hole and pressing it with the heel of his thumb. Keeping it there, he pushed his fingers, how many I don't know but enough to make it feel like a thick cock, into my cunt. Grunting in satisfaction, he pulled both hands away.

I waited.

His hands slid down my legs, positioning them, lifting near my knees. I started to draw them up but he pushed them back into place and lifted just above my knee again. Unsure of what he wanted, I pointed my toes down into the bed and held my legs up, completely off the mattress all the way. His satisfied grunt was my reward. I tucked my elbows close to my sides to help with the strain of keeping myself up and waited, legs wide open and ass tilted up, offering my pussy.

He leaned forward over me, his legs bumping against mine all the way, thighs, knees, feet. He was straddling my entire body, legs and feet over mine, elbows digging into the mattress beside me, and his forehead nudging into the base of my neck. I could feel his hard cock dangling between my thighs and his tongue licking the groove between my shoulder blades. My pussy throbbed each time his cock bumped against it.

"Put it in," I whispered.

But he didn't. His cock scraped along the inside of one thigh or the other and unpredictably nudged my swollen pussy but he didn't try to get it in. He was teasing me. The bastard, the beautiful, wonderful bastard. It felt divine, exacerbated by the strain of keeping my legs off the bed, up on my toes. He put his mouth on my shoulder beside my neck and gently bit me, repeating his erotic chewing every time his cock bumped my slippery cunt. His breath told me he was as excited as me, so why didn't he put it in? I wanted it so much, so much.

"Fuck me," I begged.

"Not yet," he whispered in my year.

I froze, and for the first time in five minutes, stopped trying to stretch my pussy back in its vain attempts to suck him into me. Something was wrong. I didn't know what, but I sensed something was out of place. What is it?

My lover's thick cockhead pushed into my slit and all my doubt drained away.

"Oh, yes," I cried.

He pushed the whole head inside.

"Unnnngghhhhh," I moaned.

He started moving, in... out... in... out. Finally. I tucked my forehead down onto the pillow as his cock slowly rocked me back and forth. Give it to me, give it to me.

"Hurry," I moaned. Though I knew he wouldn't, I wanted to goad him into it because I sensed my need made it better for him.

"Harder," I urged.

Surprisingly, he shoved the next thrust into me with gusto and his pace increased.

"Hard," I rasped. "I need you."

Another violent shove, then even faster. The train was going downhill, too fast to stay up on my forehead anymore so I folded my arms under my tits and twisted my head sideways.

Fuck me hard.

Although it was only a thought, it was as if I'd yelled it out loud. His breathing became very ragged and his hips started bucking frantically. So good, so fucking good.

My mind stopped, stunned. I was facing the end of the bedroom, toward the closet doors that spanned the whole end of the room, the mirrored closet doors. I could see them. Rocking my head into the pillow, he had scraped my blindfold off.

My God. Oh my God!

I could see my lover, fucking me. Not his face, which was hanging low over my back, but I knew him just the same.

It was Jamie!

I guess I should have screamed and tried to throw him off. I should have done something, but I didn't. I just let him finish fucking me. Not that I had much choice, his hands had slipped under my thighs, holding my legs up and open, yanking me back onto his cock, impaling me with every thrust.

He spewed inside me, gasping, crying out, his head falling onto my back. For the first time, I didn't come with him. I thought, No wonder he's not worried about the noise. What a strange thought to have. I turned my face down into the pillow while he emptied himself inside me and kept it there while his gasps dwindled. He pulled out of me and climbed off the bed, surprising me by not leaving right away like he usually did. Instead, he stood beside the bed while his breathing returned to normal, presumably looking at my body, still quivering from his assault. Suddenly self-conscious, I closed my legs.

Please go, I thought, before I start crying.

He left shortly after that and I sobbed into the pillow as soon as the door closed.
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The next week was horrible. At least Jamie didn't try to visit me during the nights but I hadn't expected him to. Our brief erotic history consisted of weekend mornings and nights. The days were hard enough to get through, especially breakfasts and dinners. It was extremely difficult to act normal as if I didn't know my son had been fucking me on the weekends but somehow I stumbled through.

In fact, the worst times were when I was alone with only myself to face. I recriminated myself in the bathroom mirror and really dressed myself down as I stood in front of the full height mirror in my bedroom. I even caught myself knocking the side of my head while having my morning coffee.

What had I done to make my son want to fuck me, or better yet, to think that he could? Surely, he must have thought about getting caught. All I had to do was turn around. Why was he so sure I wouldn't, or that it would be ok if I did? He had never spoken except for those two whispered words near the end, 'Not yet', so he must have believed that he needed to hide his identity. Did he think after it had gone on for a while it would become a 'fait accompli'?

Even if he knew about my flirtation with the young man, had somehow observed it, how could he know I would think it was him and that I wouldn't start screaming the instant I felt him behind me? Did I look like I needed it so bad?

Maybe. I looked at myself in the mirror. Not bad, especially for my age, but there was a sad look about me. Face it, I thought, you've been horny for five years, at least.

There was no denying it. The feel of Jamie's thick cock inside me almost made me pass out. I crossed my legs, squeezing my pussy together, tightening my thigh muscles. Yeah, it felt good. The thought of it made me want it. Could I do it one more time?

No fucking way!

Just once? I clenched my thighs hard and dropped my hand to my front.

Not a chance. It's over.

But how will I tell him?

You won't. You'll send him to the boat with his father in the day and lock your door at night.

Ok. That latch is still there that Ken used to use when Jamie was little so we could have privacy when we needed it. It wouldn't stop anyone but a little kid but it should give him the hint. Jamie will think I've come to my senses, that I've had enough of my mystery lover, that I've become a chaste mother again. Nobody ever needs to know what happened and we don't have to admit it to each other. Jamie will think he fucked his mother and she didn't even know it.

I scrunched my legs together again. He fucked his mother. He wanted me so bad, he really did it. I squeezed my thighs tight.

I maintained my resolve throughout the rest of the week. I was so strong in my conviction it was over that I allowed myself a few indulgences. I let myself look at my son, not as the boy I had born and raised, but as the handsome, virile young man he actually was. I was proud of him and, admittedly, proud of myself that such an attractive young man would want me that way.

I found myself adjusting my sitting position when Jamie was near to enhance the presentation of my legs or the profile of my breasts. I didn't realize it at first but when I did I gave myself only the mildest of mental spankings, and I didn't stop. Friday night was the worst. Jamie didn't go out and I found myself twisting about on the couch and adjusting the hem of my skirt so often it was almost halfway up my thighs. I kept asking myself what the matter was with me, and what was I thinking, to no avail. I wanted my son's attention.

Attention, yes, but no more, my conscience warned. You get Ken to take your son to the boat tomorrow morning and tomorrow night, you lock your door before you go to bed.

I waited until Jamie left the room to use the bathroom before I approached my husband. I tugged my hem down until it was almost to my knees.

"Ken?"

"Yes." My husband didn't look up from the paper.

"You should take Jamie to the boat with you tomorrow."

Ken looked up. "He isn't interested."

"I think he is. He just thinks you want to enjoy it on your own."

"Really? He said that?"

"Not in so many words, but a mother knows what her son is thinking." I don't know how I said that with such aplomb after what had happened.

"Well, he's welcome anytime he wants to come along."

"I think you should ask him."

"I've asked him before."

"You need to insist. I'm sure he just doesn't want to intrude."

"You think so?"

"I do," I nodded in emphasis.

"Well, ok."

As soon as Jamie returned Ken asked him to help him on the boat the next day. Jamie tried to decline but his father was persistent and wouldn't take no for an answer. Jamie finally capitulated, quickly covering his initial resignation when he saw how pleased his father was. I had mixed feelings. I was relieved that a life-changing confrontation had been avoided. If Jamie had visited me in the morning, a showdown was inevitable and admission of our incest, and my knowledge of it, guaranteed.

On the other hand, my body was disappointed that his visit was canceled and let its yearnings be known. I shifted about uncomfortably. Feelings of relief began to wane, replaced by a curious anger that my son had so easily given in to his father. Did he not value the rub of my body against his, was the feel of my womb encompassing his manhood lacking in some way? I fiddled with my blouse until a button became undone and managed to return the hem of my skirt to its previously daring position. Just look at what you're missing, young man.

I swear, sometimes even women can't understand women.
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The morning broke. I turned onto my back and stretched. I looked at the clock. I had slept in.

I hadn't slept well, fidgeting most of the night, but in the predawn, I had fallen into a heavy slumber which I often did after a bad night. If Jamie hadn't gone to the boat with his father, he would have found a woman near dead. What did they call that, fucking the dead? Necromancy? Something like that. Is that what it would be, incestuous necromancy, or close to it, to fuck your own mother when she was so far gone?

I laughed out loud at my silly thoughts, a strange, almost evil sound. I listened intently. Nobody was home. I was alone. Disappointment swept over me and I felt as empty as the house. Things were back to normal.

I dressed and went downstairs. As I busied myself with my Saturday chores, I half expected Jamie to come in the door, having found an excuse to get away from the boat. But he didn't sneak home to see me and that depressed me even more though it was exactly what I wanted. Jamie needed to know it was over, but did he have to see the light so quickly?

Ken was in a great mood when he and Jamie returned. They'd had a great day on the boat together and had even taken it out into the bay for a short run around the island. The way they talked, I was afraid another boat fanatic had been born. God help me. I did feel better at dinner, watching the two of them talking about the day, about the boat, and chatting knowingly about the pros and cons of other boats in the marina.

"You should come tomorrow, Pat," Ken suggested.

"No way, not on your life," I replied.

"But you might like it," Jamie chimed in.

"I promised to go for a cruise for a month this summer and that's enough boat for me."

Both of my men started to protest but I waved them off.

"And two of you gone for the whole weekend isn't fair."

I don't know why I said that. I guess I was expressing my true feelings.

"Anyway," I said before either could speak. "I think the two of you can do the dishes while I relax, for a change."

I got up and walked into the living room, exaggerating the sway of my hips, to what end, I didn't know.

I played a silly game with my legs again that evening but only caught Jamie paying attention once. I had a growing feeling that stopping our illicit affair was going to be hardest on me. It was over, and being over so quickly would prove best in the long run. I know, I thought, wistfully.

That night, as I reached up to flip the latch on my bedroom door, a hollow voice in my mind boomed, There's no need.

I left the latch and went to bed, consciously dragging my feet.
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My dreams were wild, realistic yet surreal at the same time. He was behind me again, spooning my body with his thick stump prodding between my legs. In the heaviness of my mind, confusion reigned. Everything was misty but though I could see his face clearly through the wavy haze I wasn't sure from one moment to the next whether it was Jamie or the young man from the store. Somehow in my dream I was aware everything was make-believe. I knew it was Jamie but saw him as the anonymous young man because that was acceptable, wrong, but not taboo. So it was the young man's face I saw when I loosened my legs to accept his prying tool but when it sawed back and forth over my slick, wet pussy, Jamie's darling visage burst through.

What the hell. It was all a dream. I arched my back and pushed my pussy lips over the top of his thick shaft. His arm encircling my waist, pushed up under my nightgown, felt so real. Grasping his hand, I pulled it up to my lips and kissed his fingers before sucking them into my mouth. If only I could be so wanton in real life, I thought, squeezing my thighs around his gorgeous, healthy young cock, think of all the wild, abandoned sex I could have enjoyed.​