Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories: Calvin's Story

"I guess so, Mom," I answered, getting up to my knees, swinging the left over her to straddle her tummy. "But you need to let me carried away, now."

I pulled my pajamas down, letting my cock spring out toward her face. To my relief, she didn't yell, didn't even look angry. She just smiled that smile, let a twinkle sparkle through her eyes, and opened her mouth wide. Her arms remained limp at her sides. I grasped my cock and pushed my hips forward moving unerringly into her gaping jaws. She clamped her mouth down, sealing her lips around my shaft, swirling her tongue around my cock's head, and then sucked hard, her cheeks caving in. She released me, quickly pulled out and then pushed back in quick succession several times, then clamped down and repeated the same action.

"Oh, god, Mom," I cried.

Her eyes sparkled. She pulled her mouth off me again. "Like that?" she asked with a big smile.

To my grateful nod, she responded, "OK, I guess you can fuck me that way, if you want. Do you, Cal?" she smiled, opening her mouth, adding, "Do you want to fuck my mouth? Come on, fuck your mother's mouth."

Several times over the next two minutes, when I pulled out, she repeated these words, "Fuck my mouth, come on, fuck your Mom's mouth."

That's all the time I lasted. I blasted what was left of my come into her throat, convulsing against her face. She laughed when I pulled out. "Did you jack off over me last night? I wouldn't have thought I could swallow it all, a young man like you. You did, didn't you? You've already blown your load this morning, haven't you?" She laughed again.

Was she kidding? Did she really not know I had just emptied myself in her cunt? No. She had to know. She was just letting me know she knew, without admitting it, while at the same time acting like she didn't know.

As I was leaving to allow her to get up and dressed, she spoke again but this time her voice was soft and sweet. "Cal, honey. I like to have a nap in the afternoon. Would you be a dear and bring me some tea after?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'll bring you some tea."

"Thanks, honey. But come in quietly, like you did this morning, and don't wake me if I'm sleeping." I nodded, and she blew me a kiss. I grinned as I skipped down the stairs. She was in for a long shag this afternoon, and a giant sperm attack.

Well group, I hope you think it was worth waiting for this postscript. I know I just couldn't wait to tell you. Mom has asked me to bring morning coffee and afternoon tea to her two or three days a week since then. One day, morning coffee lasted well over an hour and on another Mom I brought her 'tea' within ten minutes of her going up for her nap and left just minutes before Dad got home. My cock is so sore and chafed, I'm thinking about getting a skin graft.

I can kiss Mom, feel and suck her tits, finger her and even push my cock into her mouth as long as Dad isn't close enough to catch us. I just can't fuck her. At least so she has to admit it. I guess she can't engage in incest, or admit it to herself at least. I dying to have her when she's 'awake'. Just so you know, I'm working on that. By the way. Dad is happy because Mom dropped the barber thing. She told she just didn't have time for it, what with all the other things she had to do in a day. Bye for now.

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Though Mom had made Dad happy by abandoning notions of a home barber shop, I asked Mom to continue cutting my hair because she did such a great job. So once again I was in the kitchen after dinner getting my hair cut while Dad watched a game in the living room. I had waited until later before asking Mom to cut my hair, hoping Dad would be hitting the sack soon after. But the game turned into a long battle with several periods of overtime.

By that time, I had been fondling Mom's tits for quite some time. Her nipples, fully engorged, were sticking out proudly from her tits. We were both wearing robes, she with just panties underneath and I with just my boxer shorts. I pulled her closer to me, forcing her to straddle my knees, so I could run my hands up and down her sides through her still belted robe, over her ass and down her flanks. She kept whispering for me to stop it but she never backed away.

Eventually, I slipped my hand to her inner thighs and started stroking up and down from her knee to her panties, gradually shortening my strokes until I was just rubbing the softest skin within four inches of her pussy. Without warning, I suddenly cupped my right hand and pressed it against her pussy, holding it there. Mom stopped dead still, her hands falling to grip my shoulders. She didn't move.

Encouraged, I squeezed my hand, scrunching her pussy several times. I slipped my thumb up to rest it against the top of her mound and began sliding it lightly side to side as I milked her pussy with my palm. As her pussy became damp, I pressed my fingers into her panties, dipping the material between her lips, spreading them under the material. I started to move my fingers back and forth in a small oval, rubbing her increasingly wet pussy.

I could tell she was looking down, watching me rub her. Knowing this, I reached down with my left hand to fish my hard pole out of my boxers.

"Calvin," she whispered, her breathing ragged, "I can't rub you with it sticking up like that."

"Yes you can," I disagreed, reaching up with my now free left hand to pull at her panties. She wriggled her pelvis to block my attempts to pull her panties down, rewarding my thrusting fingers with welcome pussy action. She seemed to momentarily forget her efforts to block me as her thighs clenched around my shoving hand. During the foray, I managed to pull her panties off her ass to rest below her cheeks. With my thumb, I dragged the front waistband of her panties down, pulling it off her pussy.

Just then, we heard Dad yell, "What a game! I need a beer."

Mom suddenly sat on my legs, leaning forward to let her robed body cover my partially open robe and my fully extended cock just as Dad burst through the kitchen doorway heading for the fridge. He glanced our way, "What an incredible game."

As he opened the fridge in search of a beer he continued with a description of what was going on. When he pulled his head out, twisting the cap off his prize and tossing it at the sink, Mom rebuked me, "Stay still, Calvin. I don't want to poke your eye out!" She pushed my head to the side with one hand as she clipped at my eyebrows with the scissors which had remained in her hand the whole time.

Dad continued with his description, watching Mom work on me as she sat on my legs. "Stay still!" she repeated.

I don't know if her command was to convince Dad that we were in this compromising position because we were in the middle of a potentially dangerous hair operation, or if she was referring to the lunging efforts of my bare, hard cock which was, hidden by her robe and mine, pressed to her bare pussy lips, and trying valiantly to push inside. I moved my head, causing Mom to pull back with the scissors, facilitating the interpretation that we were in the midst of a delicate situation, which we were, but I did it more to cover some little hip movements in aid of my cock's endeavors.

Mom couldn't close her legs to keep my eager member away. Nor could she stand up with her panties below her cheeks and pulled down from her pussy in case her belted but loosened robe fell open revealing this inexplicable predicament. She had to stay the way she was until Dad left. But he'd just fetched his beer and the overtime interlude had just started. How long were they? Ten minutes? Twenty?

"Bob," Mom spoke sharply, "I'm trying to concentrate here. Go watch your game."

Interrupted, Dad nevertheless responded apologetically, "Oh, I'm sorry," and began to move away, but I stopped him.

"No wait, Dad. Tell me about the game," I pleaded. Dad leaned back into the counter, pleased, took a swig and began talking excitedly about the game again. Mom's eyes shot daggers at me. And I, I used the opportunity to slip my left hand through the hole in my robe pocket to push my erect cock forward toward my Mom, pressing it firmly against her open, bare and wet pussy. Looking out the corner of my eye, I could see Dad wasn't really watching us anymore, he was too excited about relating the actions of the game. I allowed my hips to rock up and down the barest amount -- hardly discernible without direct scrutiny, or so I hoped -- rubbing my cock through my mother's soaking pussy lips.

After a couple minutes of this action from which Mom couldn't retreat, she gave up trying. She didn't rock her hips back at me, but she quit trying to pull away, allowing me to freely rub my cock up and down her soaking trench. As the sounds of the game started anew, Dad moved past us to stand in the doorway. With his back to us, I quickly pulled my hips back drawing my cock away from Mom, pressed my hard, hard cock painfully forward and shoved it back toward her, embedding it a full inch in her open pussy.

Mom groaned just after Dad disappeared into the living room to once again watch the game, and I shoved my cock home, slowly sliding in to the hilt. Sliding my right hand around her waist, I used my left to pull her belt undone and part her robe. Pressing my hand on her belly, I pushed until she fell back, hooking her feet around the rear legs of my chair to brace herself and allowing her head and hair to dangle toward the floor. As the sounds of the game increased in intensity, I shoved my cock vigorously into my mother's cunt. Squish, squish, squish. God she was wet, and I was unbelievably hard. Suddenly I was gushing in her, my hips grinding, squirt, squirt, ... squirt.

We were still. My cock was fully embedded and still pulsing in Mom's pussy. Her throat was fully extended as her head reached back to lightly rest on the floor, her hair in disarray on the tiles. I couldn't see her face. Her belly was heaving in reaction to her rapid and heavy breaths. My cock still hard, I started moving again, slowly fucking her. She shook her head. "No, no," her hands waving in a negative signal. But I kept thrusting, slow but relentless. Her protestations stopped. Her pussy squeezed and clenched my cock as it bulged into her.

I lifted my weight from the chair and pushed it back, gently holding her until her hips rested on the floor. Holding her legs up, I placed one ankle on each side of my head and lowered myself on her, pressing her legs high toward her shoulders, jackknifing her body against the floor. Straddling her haunches with my cock fully shoved up her cunt, I started banging her hard. Not fast, but hard shoves, slamming into her, thrusting as hard as I could. Bam ... bam ... bam. The expression on her face, which I could now see, was intense. I grasped a tit in each hand and squeezed tightly, not gently. Bam ... bam ... bam. The loudness of the TV surely covered our illicit sounds.

Mom lifted her hands to my shoulders. "Uhhh ... uhhh ... unnnghhh," she moaned as I fucked her across the floor. I could already picture the look on her face as her head reached the bottom of the cupboards, anticipating with relish her blocked retreat from my hammering cock. If I could only reach it before I came again. I could feel another load of sperm ready to blast again into her cum soaked pussy. Where were those cupboards?

"What the hell? ... What the FUCK! ... WHAT THE FUCK!!!"

That sound, that anger penetrated my head. Mom was oblivious, her eyes screwed tightly shut as if to keep the intensity of her orgasm inside. Groggily, the spunk already rushing out my shaft, I looked toward the source of the sound, finding my father's outraged face, realizing that I'd banged my mother across the kitchen floor, through the doorway and into the living room just as I gushed another load into my mother's cheating cunt.

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Hello everyone. I know my last letter ended on a traumatic note with my father screaming at me as my Mom and I, oblivious to the world in our ecstasy, fucked our way into the living room while he was watching a game on TV. I can easily see how you might think that my subsequent silence indicated that I had been kicked out of the house, and indeed, I expected at least that. But after his initial reaction, my father simply withdrew into himself. He kept drinking beer and watching games on TV as usual but ignored Mom and I completely.

Nevertheless, the haircuts were over, and everything associated with them, ended. My Mom's doing. But other than that, Mom and I lived like we always had before the sex started. This went on for months. Various times I tried to renew my relationship with Mom when Dad wasn't home but was always rebuffed. I even tried when Dad was home but in other rooms thinking maybe she got off on the fear of discovery, but was rejected again.

One evening we were sitting in the living room, Dad watching a game, and Mom and I reading. We happened to be sitting on the couch flipping pages in a magazine when my attention was caught by Mom's bare legs still shining from whatever she put on after she shaved her legs. Her loose skirt had just ridden up her left thigh after she changed to a more comfortable position. Try as I might, I couldn't keep my attention away from Mom's legs. All the memories of her body and our intimate encounters kept flooding my mind. I tried to get her to go to the kitchen on several excuses -- snacks, drinks, making sandwiches for lunch the next day, anything I could think of -- without success.

Mom had twigged to my interest by the second suggestion and, noticing her skirt, pushed it back down. A moment later, I pushed it back up her leg with my stocking feet whereupon she again smoothed it back in place. This to and fro was repeated several more times until she gave up, looking very annoyed with me but I guess not wishing to attract Dad's attention. Removing my socks, I placed my bare foot behind her knee and began flicking the back of her thigh with my toes. I think the only reason Mom didn't get up and leave is that she didn't want deal with me alone if I followed her.

Despite her dagger-eyed, recriminating glances, I kept scratching at her leg with my toes. And, despite her anger, I could tell it was triggering memories of our good times for her as well. The longer I stroked her thigh with my toes, the more agitated she became.

Finally, feigning interest in what she was reading, I slid over and sat next to her. She pulled her legs down to the floor but I slipped my arm behind her back and around her waist to keep her from moving. I don't think that was necessary because she didn't seem eager to leave Dad's circle of protection. I tried to hold her book to look at it but she pulled it away. Dad pointedly paid no attention to us.

"Come on, Mom," I badgered, "let me see. I won't keep it." I tried to grab her book again.

"No," she countered, holding the book away from me, "go read your own and leave me alone."

After a few minutes of this, I realized that Dad wasn't going to interfere, so I became bolder. Dropping my hand to Mom's lap, I rubbed her lower belly through her skirt and then slid my hand along the crease between her legs to the hem of her skirt. Returning my hand, I tried to tug her skirt higher up her legs, with some success. I kept badgering her to let me see her book to cover my actions because I knew I was skirting disaster if Dad looked over and saw what I was doing. I couldn't help myself, the danger made my hold body tingle. But Dad never even glanced our way, not even a flicker of his eyes, which were firmly fixed on the TV.

I let my hand stray above the waist of Mom's skirt, sliding up her blouse to pat her tummy below her breasts. I held her firmly around the waist with my right arm as I brushed her breast on the side away from Dad with the back of my hand. Mom went rigid, but there was still no reaction from Dad. As the game went into commercials, I backed off but when he didn't change his demeanor, watching the commercials just as intently as the game, I let my hand furtively return to cup the bottom swell of her breast. Mom was like a deer caught in headlights, sitting like a statue. Throughout the commercials, I gently squeezed and even rubbed her tit through her blouse and bra. Even so heavily ensconced, I could feel her flesh tightening.

When the game returned, I discreetly started undoing Mom's blouse. The commentators yakked on as I carefully revealed Mom's bra for the first time in months. After a short pause to relish the moment, I twisted the bra undone and slipped my hand inside to grasp her bare tit. Her whole body went even more rigid and my cock stiffened when I felt her hard nipple poke into my palm. I tried to kiss her neck but she twisted away. Amazingly, she didn't make any attempt to stop me from caressing her breast.

Keeping my hand on her tit, I pulled my other arm from behind her back and slid that hand under her legs. Grasping the hem of her skirt, I pulled until I had dragged it up behind her, tugging it all the way to her waist. Quickly, I slid my hand back underneath, pushing along the outside her panties, until my fingers were reaching between her legs from behind. I danced my fingertips around, massaging her pussy through her panties to the next set of commercials and beyond. Dad continued to ignore us.

When the game started again, I pulled Mom's hip up and cocked her ass sideways toward me, pulling my hand away from her tit to join its brother under her thighs. Prying her flesh apart, I slipped my fingers inside the panty leg and dipped into her pussy. She was wet and slick.

No longer concerned about what Dad was doing, I concentrated on pushing my fingers in and out of Mom's pussy using the other hand to open her wide. Soon she was slightly rocking and clutching at my invading fingers and a faint squishy sound matched her movements.

Suddenly, I guess Mom could take no more and she jumped up from the couch. Unsteadily, she walked across the room, her skirt noticeably disheveled as she headed up the stairs. I leapt up to follow, too far gone to be concerned about Dad's reaction but no booming voice or angry footsteps followed me. Mom was just entering her room as I topped the stairs and the door was almost closed by the time I reached it. She halfheartedly tried to push it closed but quickly gave up at the first sign of resistance and stumbled toward the bed. I followed, catching up to her before she could lay down.

I pulled her skirt up over her hips and shoved my jeans down over mine. Freeing my cock from my shorts, I yanked her panties down to her knees. Without any finesse, I pushed on her back until she leaned forward onto the bed. Lining myself up, I entered her and starting thrusting into her right away. Through the thunderous ocean-like sound rocking around in my head, I could distinctly hear her rasping breath and grunting against the backdrop of baseball sounds drifting in the open door as I lunged into her again and again, my calves and thighs straining with the effort.

When I came, I collapsed, gasping, onto her back. Catching my breath moments later, the realization of what we'd done crashed down on me. Stunned that I was still alive, yet alone unmolested, my cock began to harden again. Moving my hands up to grip her tits, I slowly began to work my still starved cock into my Mom. Months of nothing but my hand had taken its toll. I needed to have her again, right away.

Mom lay there, letting me have my way with her, lifting her ass up to help me only at the end. After finishing, I retreated to my room. Mom and I didn't say a single word to each other. I later learned that she showered, changed into her pajamas, and simply read a book, waiting for Dad to join her. I heard him come to bed after the game ended, expecting him to pay me an unpleasant visit, but he didn't. Less than an hour later, I welcomed Mom to my bed. We made love for two hours, slowly and tenderly, whispering about how we'd missed each other and vowing to never be apart again.

Mom and I continue to have sex. Dad never pays attention. We don't flaunt ourselves but it does excite Mom more if I initiate things when Dad is close by. If I don't, she'll often lift the back of her skirt while sitting on the couch, flashing her backside at me, covered by panties or not. She gives me a much wilder fuck if I first play this game with her in Dad's presence.

Once, we went too far with our foreplay and I actually slowly fucked Mom on the couch under a blanket while he watched a game. Dad hasn't had sexual relations with Mom since that fateful night when I banged her through the kitchen doorway. It's weird, but that's how things have turned out, and I'm not complaining. So this is my last letter, friends. I'm enjoying my new life, fucking my Mom every day.​