Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories: Colin's Story

I moved my left hand to the top of her buttock and let my finger lay in the top of her crack. Nothing. I moved it up to the side of her breast where more of her tit was now available because her arm had been pried away from her body. I let my hand take in all the breast flesh available and then probed further with my fingers, blatantly trying to feel her tit. No reaction. I began to massage her breast, ever pulling on it, trying to get more of it out into my hand.

I wasn't tickling her back now. This was obvious. I was fondling her breast. I slipped my hand down to her behind again and pushed my fingers into the furrow between her cheeks, under the waistband of her skirt, even pushing it lower, until they were firmly embedded between the fleshy part of her ass, very near her hole. If I could do this, what else?

I pulled on her shoulder with my right hand, lifting her torso toward me. Mom shifted her weight toward me, as she'd done the night before, increasing the access to her breast. The commercials ended at that moment. I pulled the blouse down off her face a bit so Mom could see if she opened her eyes. She didn't, but she turned her face up in line with her body, allowing my cock to rise from between my thighs. Gently, I pressed her face back against my thighs, and my throbbing cock. She submitted to my pressure. I kept my hand on her cheek for a moment, and she actually turned her face into my thighs, the corner of her mouth grazing my shaft. My cock lengthened in response to the heat of her breath.

Since she hadn't opened her eyes to watch the movie, I pulled the blouse over to cover her face once more, then gently pressed her against my twitching cock. Her head turned into my thigh, her lips pressing against my swollen, pajama-covered member. Returning my left hand to her breast, I reached further in and enveloped her small tit completely in my hand. I just held it, reveling in the feel of her nipple poking into my palm. I couldn't help subtly pushing my cock up against her face, against her mouth, feeling it press between her lips.

I didn't knead her tit. I didn't squeeze it, or try to pull on her nipple. I just held it. I was afraid to break whatever spell we were under, terrified of ruining this blissful moment. So I just held her wondrous tit in my hand, and pressed my cock against her face. Looking down at her skirt, I reached down to grasp and undo the pin holding the kilt together along her legs. Sliding it out of the material, I pulled it apart to expose her ass, covered now only by her panties, a three inch band stretched across her cheeks. I let my hand lay on her ass and softly brushed my fingers back and forth.

Returning to her breast, I held it until the movie ended fifteen minutes later. Mom let the commercials play out and the next movie start before she stirred. I pulled her blouse down to cover her back and tugged her skirt over her ass. Then she surprised me. She turned completely around to face toward me, on her side but leaning over a little toward her tummy. My cock sprang up when she lifted her head to turn around but when she set her head down in my lap again she pressed it back into place. It was an incredible, silent acknowledgement that she was aware of my excited state.

"Did Dad ever tickle your back until you fell asleep?" I asked her, whispering for some reason.

"No," she whispered back.

"Would you like me to?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I asked, confused that she seemed to be settling in with her head laying on my engorged cock but indicating that the 'tickling' session was over until tomorrow.

"Yes. Keep tickling me. You've been a good boy. A little frisky, but you haven't gone too far." She wiggled her body to settle in, and her head as well, which my cock greatly appreciated.

Hadn't gone too far? She was OK with what I'd done and thought that I hadn't gone too far? I could feel my cock twitching wildly. What were my limits? Clearly farther, but how much?

Mom's eyes were closed again. I reached down to pull up her blouse up her back but stopped, instead grasping her sleeve and pulling it off her right arm. Then I pulled the blouse up and draped it over her head. Her whole back and side were now exposed. Her skirt had fallen away from her ass as she had twisted herself around, so her cheeks were clearly open for my appreciation. Looking down, I could see her breast hanging down, completely accessible to me. I began brushing the fingertips of my right hand lightly across her back and reached down to take her tit into my left.

I didn't just hold her tit this time. As I played my fingers across her back, I gently squeezed and kneaded her tit, pulling on it, letting my fingers slide out to pinch and tug on her nipple. She didn't object. I could feel and hear her breathing quicken, but that was it. Rather than being terrified of ruining things, I was now intent on finding out how far I could go. But I realized that I couldn't leap too far, too fast. A jarring, desperate move would surely puncture this magical world.

Periodically, I left her tit and strayed down to fondle her ass. But this time I didn't just brush my fingers across her ass, I cupped her cheeks, though not roughly, and let my fingers trail up and down her crack, even digging in gently several times. I kept returning to her tit to play with it for longer periods and always, always, I kept tickling her upper back, shoulders, and neck with my right hand.

Eventually, it dawned on me to run my fingers over her tummy, that soft, pouting bulge above the gentle slope leading down to the secret place still covered by her skirt. I played my fingers all around her navel, tickling her tummy along the loosened waistband of her skirt. I wasn't denied. There was no sound, no tensing muscles, just the quiet sound of her breathing.

Cleverly, when I ran my fingers down to play with her ass, I dragged the waistband of her skirt lower to pull it down in front as well. This worked for a bit but I had to resort to pulling it down on her hips as well, potentially giving away my true intention, but I risked it anyway. Again, no objection. Reaching around to her tummy I was rewarded with greater access, the skirt having pulled down sufficiently far for me to feel the top of her panties. I could see that more of her panties were visible. I could see her mound pressing out. I couldn't believe that my cock could get even harder, but it did.

Mom's skirt had now reached the point where it would shift down on its own without having to push it. The barest nudge on the waistband now revealed more of Mom's panties. Soon the waistband was off her hips, almost down to the juncture of her thighs, revealing her panty covered pussy. I let my fingers 'tickle' across the top of her panties for the first time, even though I was convinced that this was my barrier, that this would break the spell, at least for this night.

But still she didn't object. She did nothing. I was stunned. Cautiously, I stroked my fingers, very lightly, back and forth across her panties, lower and lower, until I was brushing her pussy, strumming my fingers across her puffy lips. Finally, I just stopped and cupped her pussy, dipping my long finger into the cleft along its damp length. Slowly, I pressed my finger into her, and began moving it up and down the tiniest amount, increasing the length of its stroke at a glacial pace. My finger became wet as she, barely noticeable, pushed back, forcing her pussy lips further around my wiggling finger.

Finally, Mom began to make some sounds. Her breathing had quickened to short and rapid, wheezing breaths that matched my own erratic gasps. She was 'ohhhhing' and 'ahhhhing', though quietly. I increased the tempo of my fingering, in response, not by my own volition. Only a moment later, she tensed up incredibly tight, then went into a long spasm, and finally shuddered to stillness.

I didn't move. Even my right hand on her back was stilled. My hand still cupped her pussy under her panties, but it didn't move.

Then, Mom's head moved back, still covered by her blouse. My rock hard cock popped up through my pajamas. Mom's head moved forward again. Then, the most awesome thing. My cock was enveloped by Mom's warm, wet mouth, sliding way in as her head continued moving until I felt my tip hit the back of her mouth. My Mom was sucking my cock! I could hear wet, squishy sounds Back and forth she moved a dozen times until once, when my tip blunted against her, she kept pressing her head forward until I could feel my cock shove further into her mouth, her throat. I was in my Mom's throat. My Mom was deepthroating me!

I shoved my hips up and forward. I couldn't help it. A pent up geyser was coming. My hips bucked with each spurt. I held Mom's head with both hands, rocking my cock into her mouth. Even over my own gasps, I could hear her breathing loudly through her nose. I must have instantly manufactured more come at that sound as I squirted several more times after that.

Mom stayed still until I subsided, until I was soft. I pulled her skirt up to her waist and deployed it around to cover her, then pulled her blouse down and pressed it down to cover her chest. Mom looked up at me, then moved herself up to sit facing me. She kissed me three times on my cheek, her hands stroking my face and hair.

"I think you got a little too frisky, Colin, but it's my fault for letting you go too far," she whispered. I said nothing, still too stunned to speak. She kissed me lightly on my lips, hers just brushing mine, teasingly.

"Would you like to tickle me to sleep tomorrow night," she asked, still in a whisper though we were the only ones in the house and Dad must be hundreds of miles away by now, "even if I don't let you get so frisky?"

I nodded.

"Good," she smiled. She kissed me on the mouth, letting her tongue slide along the length of my closed lips. Just as I belatedly opened them, she broke the kiss and bounced away, holding her blouse closed with one hand and her skirt with the other as she quickly walked away and up the stairs.
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The next day, Mom wore one of Dad's thick workshirts and sweat pants. I could hardly tell, with her slight figure, that there was a woman under there. But, trust me, my imagination filled in for me through the day. After supper, Mom sent me to the store to get some movies for us to watch. When I returned, she was dressed in a black suit. She had on a long, full length, form fitting black dress and a black jacket. Very elegant, but very conservative as well.

We sat and watched an entire movie, her sipping her wine, and she didn't even take the jacket off, let alone offer to lay across my lap for a nice 'tickle'. I did get to see her leg, at least the part that showed through the slit up the side. But not too far. This was a conservative suit fit for a funeral, so the slit only went to just above her knee.

I actually tried to get out of watching a second chick flick but Mom insisted. After it started, Mom paused the movie and stood up.

"Could you take my jacket off and hang it up for me, Colin?"

"Sure Mom." I stood, not enthusiastically, to remove her jacket for her. She unbuttoned the jacket and opened it to reveal a dress that reached right to her neck. As I pulled a sleeve down her arm I realized her dress must be sleeveless since her arm was bare. She turned as I pulled the sleeve off, her back to me, so I could slide the jacket off her other arm. As she turned, her back was revealed. Numbly, I realized the back of her dress was completely open. Her back was bared from shoulder to a blunted 'V' that reached to the crest of her behind providing an unrestricted view of her unblemished back. I pulled the jacket off her other arm as she turned once again to face me.

"Hang it up carefully, sweetie. I don't want it to get creased."

When I returned from hanging the jacket up in the hall closet, Mom was waiting for me, smiling.

"Do you like my 'funeral' dress?"

She spun slowly around, letting me gaze once more on the daring dip from her shoulders through the shallow valley at the base of her spine and up the sweeping rise onto her buttocks. She paused when her back was directly facing me, arched to emphasize the curve of her spine and the outline of her bottom as it pushed against the fine material of her elegant gown. My mother, I realized, was a woman who knew how maximize enjoyment for her audience and perhaps even thrived on delivering such satisfaction.

Facing me again, she stood with her hip cocked slightly to one side to highlight the slenderness of her waist and curve of her hips. After a long moment in which I simply stood there as well, I'm sure with my mouth open, she broke the silence.

"Dance with me before you tickle my back."

She held up her arms, beckoning me toward her delicious figure. I shuffled toward her, slipping my arms around her waist and onto her back as we began a slow dance with her arms resting lightly on my shoulders.

"There's no music," I said, on my second turn, "should I put some music on?"

"We don't need music, sweetie, just move with me," she answered, her hands tightening on my shoulders.

As we moved silently around the living room, I became increasingly comfortable, adapting my movements to hers, melding with her body as our limbs flowed in unison. When we 'one', Mom turned her face up into my neck and whispered, "Tickle my back while we dance."

I moved my hands over her skin, up to her shoulders, around in circles, and down her sides.

"Fingertips," she instructed.

I obeyed, arching my hands so my palms were raised, skittering across her sensitive flesh with just the tips of all ten digits. I concentrated on giving her the best back tickle she'd ever had. When I managed to apply the lightest of feather touches, she squirmed, pressing her front to me. It was such a reward to feel her breasts against me, or the warm surge of her pelvis, but the greatest reward was the primeval sound emitting from her throat followed by a more delicate, "that's nice" or "that's lovely" or best, simply, "ohhhhh".

Not that I minded feeling her body suddenly pulse against me. Although I knew as soon as she took off her jacket, I could tell from the press of her body that there was no bra encumbering her breasts and, looking over her shoulder down her back, I couldn't see any hint of panties either. And I looked hard.

She surprised me when she first raised her lips to kiss my neck. The first was very brief but those that followed were longer, sustained attachments of her moist lips to the sensitive skin under my chin and along my throat.

"Mmmmmm," she murmured, "you're so good at this I might have to reward you with a little friskiness."

I couldn't help the reactionary throb in my groin on hearing that. As if in response, she added, "But not as frisky as last night," before planting a long, sucking kiss in the hollow of my neck. When she finished, she whispered, "It's time for you to tickle me to sleep, young sir."

I swept her up in my arms and headed for the stairs. She gasped, and then giggled.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, looking at the couch and waving her arm in that direction. "The movie ..."

"No more chick flicks. We're off to my tickling lair," I announced as I took the first step up the stairs.

"But I can't fall asleep in your lair," she protested.

"And you can't fall asleep on the couch, either."

I entered her room and carried her to her bed. Gently, I set her down on her feet but she protested, "No no, I can't stand anymore."

"But your dress, Mom. You don't want it to get wrinkled."

"No, but I think it would be a little too frisky to remove my dress in front of you, and I can't wait for you to start tickling me again. So lay me down."

I picked Mom up and set her down on her bed. She rolled onto her tummy, ready for me to tickle her back. I had hoped she would remove her dress and get under the covers, allowing me to peel them back to tickle her back while she maybe really fell asleep, but no such luck. Oh, well.

I walked back to the door and dimmed the lights, kicked off my shoes and returned to the bed. Mom raised her feet up and wiggled them as I approached, "Shoes."

I removed her low-healed black shoes, undoing the thin leather straps that wound around her ankles and part way up her calves. I didn't hurry, taking the time to caress her legs after the shoes were off, using my fingertips to trace her muscle line up to the hollow behind her knees several times before laying her feet gently back on the bed.

"Some woman is going to be very lucky one day," she remarked.

"I hope I can make you feel like that, Mom."

"I already do," she said.

When I started to climb onto the bed, she cried, "No way, Mister. Not on my bed with those dirty jeans."

"Oh, sorry Mom. I'll go get changed."

"No. Just take them off."

I was stupefied. She wanted me to undress. But if I was just in my shorts, and she did look, how could I hide my hardon? I stood, stuck in my quandary until she prompted, "Come on, I'm not going to look. Just keep your shorts on." She wriggled on the bed, "Hurry."

Quickly I dropped my jeans and kicked them off, followed by my socks and then my shirt. I clambered up on the bed, took a few breaths, and ran my fingers up her back. For the next twenty minutes, I did my level best to regain the reactions I had experienced while dancing with her. I wished I was still dancing with her. I missed the feel of her reacting against me. As my arms tired, I lay down beside her, caressing her back and sides with one hand at a time, switching sides about every five minutes. She seemed to be in a trance except for her sudden twitches in response to a particular touch, which I could neither predict nor reproduce regularly. I traced my fingers slowly along the sides of her breasts, as I had before, but couldn't think of a way to pull her up onto her side so I could get better access to her breasts like I'd done when she was laying across my lap.

"You should have got under the covers if you were going to go to sleep," I whispered, the first words spoken since I started tickling her back. I was hoping to prompt her into removing her dress to get into bed.

"There's time for sleep later," she laughed. "I warned you. You'll have to work hard to make me fall asleep."

So this was just a warm up? She was planning on getting into bed? Maybe she's let me continue tickling her after she changed into a nightie, maybe while I was in the can or something. She'd surprised me before.

"I'll just undo your dress then, if you're going to bed." I reached up to undo the snap on the material at the back of her neck, the only part of her dress evident until the dress reappeared to cover her behind.

"Colin, don't get frisky."

"Oops, too late," I laughed, undoing the snap and laying the ends to each side of her neck.

"You brat," she laughed in return.

I started tickling her all around her neck, taking extra special care to reward her for allowing me to undo her dress. It may not have shown me more of her body but it was huge for me psychologically. While I was leaning close to her shoulder blades, concentrating on her neck, I suddenly kissed her back. Startled by my impromptu action, I covered up by raining a number of 'butterfly' kisses across her upper back. Mom used to give me butterfly kisses when I was little, placing her eye close to me and fluttering her eyelashes. I loved it and so, apparently, did Mom.

"Oh, that feels wonderful."

Music to my ears. I ran my fluttering lashes all over her back, along her waist and even along the edge of her dress above her bum. Mom clearly loved it. I began brushing my lips on her skin as well and tracing the tip of my tongue behind the path blazed by my eyes. I even traveled down her upper arm. This was also a hit and I included this in my path.​