Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories: Francis' Story

Hi everyone. My name is Francis and this is what happened with my mother. My Mom is quite thin, always has been. She has a fairly pretty face but you wouldn't give her body a second glance because she's quite flat-chested and doesn't have much of an ass, either. But my view on this changed one very hot summer day when I was home from school, still without a summer job.

I spent my time lolling around the house. We didn't have an air conditioner and when the temperature soared, I began shedding clothes, eventually hanging around in just a pair of shorts.

"You're so lucky," Mom said that hot afternoon, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her arm, "being able to wear just shorts."

"You could do the same, Mom. I wouldn't mind," I said with a grin.

"I'm sure you wouldn't," she smiled back.

"Why don't you just wear a bathing suit then?" I suggested.

"I don't have one. You know I don't like going to the beach," she replied in a semi angry tone. Mom didn't like the beach because she was shy about being thin and flat chested. I hadn't seen her at a beach since I was really little.

"Well, just wear a bra and panties, then. It's just like a swimsuit."

"I don't think so, Mister."

"Well, roast then," I casually dismissed her problem, having suggested a solution. I returned to reading my comic book. I had started working my way through my old comic book collection since coming home.

Mom read her magazines, huffing and sighing and complaining about the heat for most of the next hour. I ignored her. Finally, she spoke directly to me again.

"It wouldn't bother you, if I did?" Mom asked.

"Did what?" I replied, not even looking up from my comic.

"Just wore a blouse and panties around the house."

I replied with exaggerated disinterest, "Nope."

Mom went upstairs. When she came back down, I pointedly refrained from looking in her direction, keeping my nose buried in my comic book. After a while, when I could feel she wasn't looking my way, I stole a few glances. She had indeed changed into just a t-shirt and panties. Now, I wouldn't have thought she would need a bra anyway but her t-shirt clung to her chest and I could see her nipples poking against the fabric. I'd never noticed this before. And her t-shirt wasn't quite long enough to cover her panties, so I could see them, too. Despite what I'd said, it certainly wasn't the same as a swimsuit. My swelling prick attested to that!

Acting as if nothing was different, she asked me if I'd like some lemonade if she made some. Nodding absently, I turned my eyes to look at her as she walked away to the kitchen. I was stunned. My mother, who didn't seem to actually have an ass, sported two great looking pear-like globes that moved erotically with each step, pushing out against her panties. How had this treasure been hidden? Her cheeks hung low, rather than sticking out. Was that it?

I got up to follow her and stood watching from the doorway as she made lemonade. Her little ass was truly divine. I would have loved to see it in more revealing panties.

Glancing over her shoulder at me, Mom said, "You're sure this won't bother you?"

"No, not at all," I assured her. I walked up behind her for a closer look at her cheeks. "It's cooler without a bra, isn't it? You don't really need one anyway, you know."

"I'm quite aware that I don't have anything up top, young man," she rebuked me.

"No, no. That's not what I meant," I quickly scrambled to redeem myself. "I only meant that you don't need one to hold things up, ... I mean ... you don't, uh ... you're not saggy like bigger women," I finished off, lamely.

"No, I guess that's a plus," she acknowledged.

"Anyway, big ones were a big thing for Dad's generation. Guys my age like smaller ones," I added, quickly feeling like I was overstepping myself again.

"Is that so?" Mom replied with skepticism.

"Yeah. Really, Mom," I assured her with enthusiasm. "Big ones are ugly."

"Oh." She smiled, then added, "I don't like wearing them anyway, you know. They're uncomfortable and you're right, I don't really need one."

"Well, you shouldn't wear one. You look good without it."

"Hmmmm," Mom responded, turning to face me. "Would guys now-a-days really like to look at small ones like mine?" she asked.

"I would!" I blurted out loud, without thinking, looking at her t-shirt. My face reddened. I started to bluster a recovery, then just stood there.

"I don't think Dad would think very highly of that," she mused and then, with a little laugh, added, "For that matter, I don't think he'd like me wandering around the house in my panties, either."

I just stood there, not knowing what to say or do.

"But what the hell," she said, "It's so hot out." She reached down and tugged her t-shirt down, the stretched material emphasizing her small breasts, and particularly her prominent nipples. "See, this is all your mother has."

I stared down at her chest. She arched her back to amplify her limited assets. Her tits were beautiful in my eyes. They were small, yes, but the normal sized nipples looked extra long on her breasts.

"They're nice," I finally choked. It was clear that I wasn't kidding, that I meant what I said.

"Oh. Well. Thank you very much, Francis." I could tell by her voice, the way her eyes glanced shyly down, that Mom was pleased despite her kidding tone. She really wasn't used to men complimenting her breasts and I could tell she liked it.

"Well, if I did take my shirt off, you wouldn't gawk at my tits all the time, would you?

"No, Mom," I tore my eyes away but they soon strayed back to her t-shirt, latching onto her nipples once again.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. I suppose I could tolerate you looking. I'm sure you'll tire of it soon enough." Mom poured two glasses of lemonade and walked toward the living room with the glasses in hand. "Come on, then."

My eyes fell to her ass as she walked. As I followed her, I noticed for the first time that I was hard. I wondered if she'd noticed the bulge in my shorts.

Mom sat on the couch and started reading her magazine. I sat next to her, not in the chair where I'd been before. I sipped my lemonade, staring at her nipples poking up from her t-shirt. Eventually she looked up, "Is that all you're going to do all day, stare at my tits?"

"Sorry, Mom. I just haven't seen you like this before."

"Well, you're the biggest fan they've ever had, that's for sure. God knows, your father certainly strains his eyes looking at other women with bigger ones," she complained. She looked down at her chest and laughed, "Well, they do seem to like your attention."

Mom turned her eyes back to her magazine, letting me carry on ogling her shirt. I let my eyes stray down to her panties, her open legs providing a great view. I could see the crevice below her mound where her pussy lips parted, pouting out against her panties.

"I thought you were fascinated with my breasts," Mom suddenly asked. Quickly jerking my head up, I could see her looking right at me, a quirky smile on her face. I went beet red. "Go read your comic now," Mom instructed me. I did, but I couldn't help but look over to check her out now and then. She didn't seem to mind. About an hour before Dad usually came home, Mom went upstairs and got dressed in her normal attire. When Dad came in, everything was prim and proper.

When I got up the next day, Mom had gone out shopping. I was sitting on the couch in my shorts reading a comic when she came in the front door about noon.

"My god, it is SO hot out there," she announced, dropping her stuff in the hallway and walking into the living room toward me. "Should we have some lemonade, sweetie?" she asked stopping in front of me.

"Sure," I started to get up.

"No stay, I'll get it," she said. But she didn't move, she just stood there. "Were you bored, honey, sitting here with nothing to look at?" she finally said, that quirky smile reappearing on her face. I could feel the blood flushing to my face. She lifted her foot and stretched it out to me. "Why don't you undo my shoe for me?"

Flustered, I undid the ankle strap and slipped the shoe off her foot. She kept it still in my hand, not pulling it away, so I rubbed the bottom of her foot, then slid my hand up the back of her calf and rubbed the muscle in her leg.

"Mmmmm, that feels good," she sighed. I did this for a minute or two before she pulled her foot away to replace it with the other. I did the same for that foot. Then she pulled it away to and just stood once more in front of me.

Without a word, she dropped her hand to the side of her skirt, cocked her hip, and pulled the zipper down. Uncocking her hip, she let the skirt fall to the floor. Her blouse fell low enough to cover her panties in front so that it looked like she was only wearing her blouse. She stood again for a full minute, just looking down at me while I gazed at her pelvis. "Come on," she finally said, "Let's go get some lemonade."

I followed her into the kitchen, not able to see her ass in just her panties because her blouse covered her backside as well. As she retrieved two large glasses from the cupboard she instructed me to fetch the lemonade from the fridge. When I came up behind her, she told me to reach around and fill the glasses. When I was done, I put the lemonade container back in the fridge and returned to stand behind her. She stood in front of our lemonades, not doing anything. There was a strange tension in the air. I felt awkward but I didn't want to leave.

"Should I take off my blouse and just wear my bra?" she broke the silence. "Would you like that, Francis?"

"Yes, Mom," I whispered.

"Then do it. Take it off for me."

I reached around and fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. I was all thumbs but Mom was very patient. Finally, I had all the buttons undone and I pulled the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms. I stood behind her, holding her blouse in my hands.

She turned to face me. I looked down, avoiding her gaze. She wasn't wearing a normal bra! I could see her tits through the see-through red material and her nipples standing up, stiff and proud.

"They really do like you looking at them, don't they?" she laughed softly, as her nipples visibly stiffened even more. "Do you like them, Francis?"

I nodded my head. "I love them, Mom."

She smiled and reached out to pick up the glasses. "Love? Well, let's go drink some lemonade to that."

As she walked away I thrilled to the discovery of her new matching red panties. They were just a tiny triangular patch that barely reached up onto her ass cheeks. I could plainly see through the material to the globes underneath, and the crack of her ass. The slowness of her pace could have been to avoid spilling the glasses of lemonade but I got the impression she also wanted me to look at her ass. My cock swelled at that thought.

We finally made it to the coffee table and Mom set the glasses down. Then she stood, and just stayed like that. I stood back a little, so I could keep admiring her ass, the narrowness of her waist and the flare of her hips.

"Do you like them?" she asked.

"What?" I feigned innocence.

"My new panties, of course." My cock stiffened at hearing her say panties. "They're the smallest, ... the coolest ... ones I could find without going to one of those thong things." I immediately pictured a thong dividing her pearish cheeks. My cock hardened even more.

"Do you like it too?" she asked.

"Like what?" I played the innocence thing again.

She was having none of it. "My ass, silly. I know you were looking at it. A woman can tell when she's being admired. Do guys your age like little asses too?"

"Yes, they do," I said, and added, "I sure do."

Mom laughed out loud. "Well, your father doesn't. He thinks its too skinny."

"He's crazy."

"You think so?"

"I sure do, Mom."

There was a pause. Nothing was said for a minute. Then Mom broke the silence.

"They're made of a special material that keeps you cool. Would you like to feel it?"

"Your panties?" I asked.

"Yes, the material. What were we just talking about?"

"Sure," I replied. I reached my hand down, cautiously stretching my finger tips out to touch the material of her panties. She pushed her ass back a little, pressing my fingers flat onto her panties and forming a cup to hold her right cheek in my palm. "Yeah," I said, "it feels silky, kind of slippery." I moved my hand around on her cheek, gently squeezing her little globe as if testing the panty material. I cupped her left cheek in my other hand and began gently kneading that globe as well.

"Don't get too naughty, Francis," Mom cautioned me. Ignoring her reproach, I continued to knead her flesh.

"You'd be even cooler in a thong, Mom."

"I doubt it, my butt's too skinny for a thong."

"No it's not. You're perfect for a thong. You'd cause accidents if you walked down the street in one."

Mom burst out laughing. "You're just trying to make me feel good. Men would laugh if they saw my skinny butt in a thong."

I leaned in over Mom's shoulder. "Trust me, Mom," I said, my voice thick, "You'd look awesome in a thong. Men would look, and they wouldn't laugh."

"Do you really think so? Do you think I'd look good in a thong?"

"Why don't you buy one tomorrow and try it on? See for yourself."

"Actually, I did," she confessed. "It's in my shopping bags," she tossed her head in the direction of the hallway.

"Go get it," I said, releasing her cheeks and patting her ass. I didn't say it like a request. Mom looked surprised, even a bit shocked, but she wasn't angry.

"No. I don't think so," she dashed my hopes.

"Well, you bought it. What are you going to do with it?"

"Oh, I'll probably just throw it away," she mused.

"No, don't do that," I protested.

"Why? Is there someone you'd like to give it to, to try it on for you?"

"No."

"Would you like me to wear it, then?" she teased.

As I started to nod my head, she went on, "For your father?" A quizzical expression formed on her face.

I shook my head no. "For you, then?" She smiled, the quizzical expression becoming more exaggerated. "You wouldn't want to see your own mother in thong?"

"Yes," I answered, my hopes rising again.

"Francis, you wicked, wicked boy," she teased me, having a laugh at my expense. I was too tense to laugh along with her and her face quickly sobered. "We'll see, then. Maybe I'll let you have a quick peek tomorrow or the next day."

She sat on the couch, and I sat on the other end, watching her. She swung her feet onto the couch, pulling her magazine up, obscuring her face and blocking my view of her see through bra. I shifted my gaze down to her legs and along her thighs to her panties. As I watched, she slowly opened her legs until I could look directly at the front of her panties. I could see through the material to her pussy underneath and the crevice dividing her pouting lips. I swear that once in a while she twisted her hips forward, accenting her pussy mound for me. She kept her legs open for me the whole time until it was near time for Dad to come home.

Finally, she dropped her magazine and said, "Let's go upstairs and change, Francis, before your father comes home."

Mom walked to the stairs, a slow sensuous walk that exaggerated the sway of her hips. My face was level with the jut of her buttocks as we slowly climbed the stairs. When we reached her room, she told me to wait there for a minute and disappeared inside. A moment later she reappeared wearing a robe loosely clutched to her chest. It splayed open under her breasts, widening as it crossed her hips, exposing a tuft of golden pubic hair. With her free hand, she held out her red bra and panties. "Here," she said, "keep these in your room for me. I don't think it would be good if your father saw them."

I whacked off more than once that night thinking about my mother and the highlights of that day, capped by the glimpse of her pubic hair and her choice for me to keep her bra and panties. I went to sleep dreaming about her wearing a thong for me.

The next day, Dad went in to the office late. He said he had a dinner meeting and would be home late, so he wasn't going in until noon. I could hardly wait for him to leave. The morning dragged on for an eternity. It was sweltering. Mom looked flushed and sweaty. I was boiling but didn't feel I could drop down to just my shorts with my Dad there. Finally, he left after a quick lunch. Mom gave him a kiss goodbye, wished him luck in his meeting, and went upstairs.

I waited impatiently for her to reappear but finally gave up and started to read my comics while sitting on the couch. I didn't hear her, but she was suddenly just standing there, barefoot in a white t-shirt which clearly showed two very stiff and long nipples poking up underneath. Her face was flushed and she was breathing in short, rapid breaths, as if excited about something. I think we'd both been tense waiting for Dad to leave, and were both a little wound up.

"When Dad left, it felt like a visitor had left," she said. "What a weird feeling."

"Yeah, I know," I replied. "It was uncomfortable, and now it's kind of like the way it should be."

"Yeah, weird," she said. She tugged down on her t-shirt, forcing it down so hard on her nipples I thought they would burst through. She arched her back and twisted from side to side. "But we're alone now," she said, coyly.

I didn't say anything. I just watched her.

"Would like to see something?" she asked, taking our little game further.

"Yes," I answered, my mouth dry.

She raised her hand behind her head, pulled on something and shook her head, her yellow blonde hair falling out about her shoulders. Then she lifted the bottom of her t-shirt up to the level of her hips, exposing a little red patch that covered her pussy.

I stared. "Mom, is that ..."

"You wanted me to wear it for you, didn't you?" she cut me off, dropping the t-shirt to hide the red patch.

I stood up and she turned away, walking to the middle of the room.

"But, I can't ..."

My voice trailed off as Mom pulled her t-shirt up with both hands at her sides. Her bare ass came into view, separated by a red strand of material that disappeared between her cheeks.

"Well, have a look, then, Mr. Impatient."

I stepped behind her. Her ass was essentially bare. I reached down to take possession of her cheeks.

"I don't think your father would approve of that, young man."

"I'm just checking the material."

Mom laughed. "Don't get too clever, Francis. I never said you could touch my bare ass."

"You didn't say I couldn't, either." Then, more submissively, "Let me, Mom. Just for a while. You look awesome, just like I said you would."

"Will you stop when I tell you? No arguments?"

"Yes, Mom. I'll stop right away." I continued kneading her cheeks, pulling them apart and squeezing them together again. Hanging my head over her shoulders, I looked at her nipples poking out her shirt. "Can I touch them too, Mom?"

Her voice was a little hoarse when she answered. "No, Francis. I don't think I can go that far."

"Please, Mom. You said they like it when I look at them. Let me touch them a little bit. I'll stop when you say," I whined, following the same path that succeeded in letting me fondle her ass.

She didn't answer. I released her cheeks and pushed my hands around to her tummy, then started sliding them up over her t-shirt toward her breasts. She watched them approach but didn't say a thing. My fingers moved over the swells of her small tits and then on to close on her long nipples. I brushed over them and back, pinched them softly through the material of her t-shirt, and tugged on them gently. Releasing, I flicked them again with my fingers, back and forth, many times like I was strumming chords on a guitar. Mom moaned. Surprisingly, I could feel them grow even more. They were already stiff and long. Groaning, I grasped them again, pinching and twisting, rolling them between my fingers, tugging. Again I released them and flicked them back and forth with my fingers, then grasped them again. Mom was moaning softly, constantly.​