Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories: Grant's Story

A week after my father's funeral, everyone had gone home and Mom and I settled into a routine. Nothing happened after the episodes that first afternoon and later in the evening, when I had inserted my finger into Mom's behind, and my cock into her mouth. The feigned 'stress sleep' worked. We didn't have to talk about it. But then nothing happened. Mom didn't ask me to rub her back for her again, and there was no way to bring that day up, at least, the special things that had happened.

We carried on, not mentioning Dad, as if he was just away for a while. It was more than five weeks later that Mom had a bad day, and began mentioning things about Dad throughout the day. Late in the afternoon, I slipped out and came home with some flowers to cheer her up. I've made a reservation for dinner, I told her, so dress up and let's go out. Mom seemed pleased to get out of the house.

I don't think she meant to, but Mom wore a cute black dress. It wasn't a funeral dress. Quite the contrary, it was one of her favorites when she and Dad would go out. Not too revealing, actually elegant and conservative, but she did look great in it. I was dressed too casually to match her but Mom didn't seem to mind. She laughed at my apology when she came downstairs, and said a woman should always be better dressed than her man. She wouldn't let me get changed.

We had a nice, relaxing dinner with a whole bottle of wine between us, but we stayed for dessert and coffee, too. It was easily ten when we got home. Mom insisted on a nightcap, just one more glass of wine. I opened a bottle and settled down on the couch with her. I turned on the TV but switched it to a soft music channel. For the first time that evening, our conversation turned to Dad again. We drank more than one glass of wine, as Mom's conversation become more personal, talking about their relationship, things my sister and I didn't know.

Mom snuggled up to me as she talked, her thigh pressed to mine, her dress only slightly higher, but not intentionally. She talked about their ups and downs over the years, how sometimes things were difficult between them, about my father's wandering eye, but how their sex life had always been good. You'd think this would be uncomfortable, hearing about your parents sex life, but it wasn't, perhaps because of the wine.

It wasn't that he was a great lover, she confided, but he was always different, trying new things. And she would let him, often adding her own twist, which she knew always drew him back to her. I couldn't help but get excited as she told me these things, feeling her hair against my cheek as she nestled against me, the weight of her breast when she turned toward me for a little laugh now and then. She didn't do anything explicitly sexual with me, or provide intimate details as she alluded to sex between them that was periodically somehow illicit.

I was hard by the time we finished that bottle of wine. And, despite all the talk, I didn't do anything except keep my arm around her shoulder, sometimes letting it fall to her waist when she pressed herself closer to me.

"I knew you miss him, Mom" I squeezed her to me, "but now I understand just how much. Thanks for letting me know." I kissed the top corner of her head. Mom didn't say anything. She just nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"You know Dad thought you should get married again. He talked to me about it. He thought you were too young to be a widow for the rest of your life."

"I know," she laughed, then sniffed, and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"She's too much woman to go to waste," I repeated, mimicking my father's voice.

Mom laughed at that, remarking on how he'd said exactly that to her. Shortly after that we finished the wine and Mom said she should get to bed. She thanked me for the flowers and the lovely evening, all of it. She turned to me and gave me a kiss on my cheek, her hand laying on my leg. "You're more than a son to me, you know. You're special, like your Dad."

She got up then, and so did I. We turned out the lights and walked upstairs. Mom turned to me before going into her room.

"I haven't been sleeping well lately," she complained, her voice frustrated. "I just can't fall asleep. I used to get like that sometimes, and Dad would rub my back for me until I fell asleep."

I nodded, not knowing what else to say, waiting for her to say goodnight.

"Would you do that for me tonight? Rub my back, just until I fall asleep?"

I nodded. "Sure, Mom."

"Just until I fall asleep. Then you can go back to your own bed."

I nodded.

"Ok. Go get ready for bed and come back. I'll be ready."

In my room, I rushed to change into some pajama bottoms. I didn't usually wear anything but put them on for my mother's sake. I waited for a few moments to let Mom get changed, then went back to her room.

She was sitting on the end of the bed, still in her dress, one leg raised over the other knee as she tugged her pantyhose off her foot. Only one bedside lamp was on. She looked very sexy in the shadows. She held her hand up as she saw me.

"Sorry, Mom," I said as I took her hand, helping her to her feet, "I thought you'd be changed by now."

"I was waiting for you," she said, turning her back to me. "Dad always did my back after we went out for dinner, and he always unzipped my dress for me. It was like a little ritual."

Mom used both hands to lift her hair, sweeping it up behind her head, baring her neckline. God she looked great, waiting for me to undo her, her hips canted to the left, accenting her curvy body.

I unhooked her dress and slowly pulled the zipper down that elegant black dress. When I reached the bottom, Mom spoke, very softly.

"Since you're not your Dad, I guess you better close your eyes until I get into bed."

She didn't wait for me to answer, or look back, and I didn't close my eyes. Her hair fell as she dropped her arms and crossed them in front of her, raising them to push brush dress off each shoulder. I drank in her bare back as the dress fell to her hips, her shoulders covered by her hair. Seconds passed before she pushed the dress off her hips, her calves somehow seeming ultra sexy as the dress first covered and then bared them as it dropped to the floor.

As I pulled my eyes up Mom's legs they rested on her matching black, lace panties. Dimly, I became aware that her hands were pulling her bra off, and my cock hardened as it remembered being ensconced between those firm, substantial globes. I almost closed my eyes as I realized that she was about to get into bed, or turn around and catch me by surprise looking at her but before I could react, her hand had tossed the bra to the floor and placed itself on her hip. Stunned, I watched as she pushed her panties, dragging them over her hips and down her thighs to her knees. There, she lifted her foot and, hooking her toe in the little lacy affair, dragged it down her calf to the floor. Placing her foot on it, she stepped forward, pulling her other foot free.

She stood still for several seconds, allowing me to taste the vision of her full, womanly ass.

"I'll let you know when I'm in bed so you can open your eyes," she whispered.

Then, she moved with slow deliberate movements onto the bed, crawling up to the pillows, pulling the covers down, and getting in, never once looking back. She lay face down.

"Ok," she said, using her left hand to pull the covers back beside her.

I clambered onto the bed and got in beside her. Mom pushed the covers down so her back was bare to her hips.

"There's some oil on the table. Dad always put a little on his hands."

"Ok, Mom," I'm sure my voice cracked

"He always started at the top," she wiggled her shoulder, "and he kept the light on until he went lower."

She didn't explain what that meant. I had to reach across her to get the little tube of oil from the bedside table. Sprinkling several drops on the fingertips of my right hand, I began. I paused to put more oil on after doing her shoulders and upper arms, at least fifteen minutes later. I spent even more time on Mom's lower back, her waist, and her sides, where her breasts bulged out. I spent a lot of time there, tracing my fingers more lightly there, but she seemed most appreciative when my fingers delved into the small of her back, before the rise up to her buttocks.

"Dad used to pool some oil there before turning out the light," she said.

Though it was very low, her voice startled me because I was so focused on trailing my fingers around her skin. I put oil where she suggested and reached over to turn out the light, making sure not to let my huge hardon scrape her back even thought it was still inside my pajamas.

"Put more on," she said, before I reached the light.

Dutifully, I added more at the base of her spine where she seemed to be so sensitive to my touch, turning my hand over and letting the oil drip into the little dish in her back until a little puddle formed, spreading it in a little circle with my finger. She spoke for the last time that night.

"Lower," she whispered.

I turned out the light.

Starting at her neck, I slid my hand down her back in a languid arc, in no rush, skirted around the side of the little puddle of oil, and dragged my fingertips over the erotic slope of Mom's left buttock, the one nearest to me, pushing the covers ahead of my hand until I reached its crest. Sliding back down, I crossed her back and did the same on the other buttock, taking time to enjoy that one as much as the first. I paused at the top but rather than returning I pushed on, shoving the covers down the backslope to Mom's thighs, pulling my hand toward me to bare her left cheek as well.

I couldn't see in the dark but the vision of her perfect behind was vivid in my mind. No blind person could have read braille as intently as I read my mother's ass, sliding my fingers and palms around and around, over and over, until every millimeter of her bottom had felt the softest, gentlest touch I could muster. I could tell by Mom's breathing that she approved.

Dipping my fingers in the pool of oil, I raised my hand from Mom's flesh and held it above where I knew her crack to be. I traced my extended fingertips above that line back to her thighs, letting drips of oil fall into the crevasse below, moving ever so slowly so I could hear her breath change as the drops hit, formed little rivulets, and ran down into her crack. I repeated this again and again, until the puddle was gone. At last, I let my fingertips touch her ass. She was slippery all the way down her crack. I brushed my fingers back and forth several times relishing the feel as they slipped past the slick inner skin of both cheeks, pausing to let my longest fingertip remember her crinkly donut.

Her legs parted a tiny bit as I pushed beyond. I pulled gently, urging her left leg toward me a little more, then pushed out to demand similar compliance from her right. Like a short domino effect, this thigh moved further than the first, providing ample room for my oily hand to cup the juncture of Mom's behind and legs in its palm. A moment later my fingers stretched out to rest on the back of her pussy. I brushed my fingers side to side and was rewarded with a sound I hadn't heard for more than five weeks -- Mom purring.

Her right leg shifted out more as I brushed, so wide that I easily rested my arm on the back of her left thigh, allowing my fingers to stretch out from that side rather than from above. I was now pushing my fingers across the surface of her lower pussy. On one backward draw, I dug my fingertips in a little and dragged her pussy open. She gasped. I held it open for several long seconds before pushing across and dragging her other pussy lip back the same way, holding it open too.

Returning, I stopped to dig in just a little more, then slid up her moist slit as she gasped a long sigh. And though she twisted her hip to cock her ass up, my path was still blocked by the mattress. Mom raised her hips as I my left hand pushed under her tummy to the rescue. Unfortunately, this made it harder for me to keep my right hand as far forward, and it slipped back. By this time, the fingers and palm of my left were skidding under her from above. I stopped my hand there and delighted in the feel of her full mound as she relaxed her weight directly upon it. For several moments thereafter I cupped her damp pussy as my fingers stroked it from the rear. Mom's faint purring raised up a notch.

I hunched myself closer to rest my head on Mom's behind, the proximity allowing my right arm greater freedom of movement. I opened my left hand to form a pincer of my thumb and index finger, placing one on the inside of each pussy lip. Slowly, I spread her open, holding her like that, waiting. I could feel the tension, feel her wondering what was coming, all the while knowing.

Still, she flinched and gasped out loud when she first felt my finger seeking the center of her open cunt, trying without success to avoid touching their walls but then drawing immediately away, chased by the throb of her velvet sheath. The further in, the harder it became to avoid these brief, feathery touches, my finger failing to hide its presence as it crept inside her. My head laying on her ass could feel Mom's tension as she fought to keep still, waiting breathlessly for the next tickle, positive it would come. Yet, each time she gasped in total surprise.

Soon, I couldn't avoid touching her tunnel walls so I dipped in as far as I could and wiggled my finger all around. I drew my finger out and slid it back in, slowly, doing more of the same. I must have repeated this thirty or forty time before adding a second finger. The whole time I kept her pussy lips spread wide open but I let them go when I added a third finger. That's when she first started to moan and when I began strumming her clit with my dormant left hand she really got going.

I didn't try jackhammering my fingers in Mom. I had read somewhere that a woman is more responsive to her lover's girth, so I concentrated at the depth of each thrust to move my hand in a small circle, working my upper knuckles against her sensitive opening. It seemed that I was right, because Mom was really getting into it. I was incredibly excited to make her feel this good. It made me feel like her lover.

I think it was by accident that my thumb first dipped into her little hole, probably seeking traction to help my volatile fingers as they swirled in the entrance to my birthplace. Mom's moaning briefly reached a new octave which is what first brought the mini invasion to my attention. But the second time was not an accident, or the third and fourth, and after that, well, I just left it in there. She was still slippery there from the oil so it had likely slipped in easily to that first knuckle. Still, my main focus was working Mom's pussy, the more so because I could tell she was close, very close. Her hips were pushing back to meet my fingers and rolling around trying to accentuate their touch as I reamed her pussy lips.

It was on one of these backward thrusts that Mom suddenly went rigid, her hips lifted an inch or two in the air, her legs snapping shut on my hand, shuddering, followed by a feverish series of frantic bucks of her hips, her pussy squeezing my fingers, my hand trapped by her bear trap legs.

"Unnnnnnnnngggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she let out a long, low grunt.

Her legs continued to clutch me for another minute and then she collapsed to the bed, her muscles sagging loose, expelling a long, long sigh. She went still and didn't move. Even her pussy was dormant.

After a few minutes, I pulled my hand from under Mom's tummy. I guess she thought I was going to sneak off so we could keep up our charade. I'm sure that's why she emphasized that I should go to my own bed after she fell 'asleep'. Well, she'd given me a beautiful show when she'd dropped her dress and taken off her bra and panties, allowing me to watch. She had certainly let me enjoy touching her body, but I had paid the piper and made it worth her while. I was still hard. She had repaid me with her mouth five weeks ago after I'd done her but I couldn't see how I could manage that now the way were laying. So I just lay there, my face still on her cheeks, my fingers still just inside her, thinking, how can I get mine?

Mom lay still, patiently waiting for me to go, her breathing returning to normal. I still hadn't come up with a plan when my fingers moved. I could feel her head shake, could sense her message, 'no, time for sleep'. I wiggled my fingers again and felt her head shake in reaction so I pulled them out, but as I did, my thumb slipped up to nudge her little bud which was still open from my little guys earlier visits. She stiffened when she felt that, so I circled my thumb around her little hole without trying to push it in. Mom remained tense, but I noticed that her head didn't shake.

I raised my head from Mom's cheeks and turned to look down at her ass, though I couldn't see my thumb in the dark. I swung my left arm over Mom's back, resting my elbow on it and my hand on her right cheek. Pressing the edge of my right hand into her cheeks, I let its thumb again press on her dark hole, circling the rim once more with its tip. Mom noticeably tensed up. Pulling her right cheek away, I lowered my head as I pulled my thumb back, sliding my tongue along her crack until I found the little hole. I flicked my tongue rapidly across it, swirled it around the edge, and quickly dipped inside before pulling just as quickly out.

Mom let out a weird sound, not loud, almost a whimper. I can't describe it accurately, but it was a sound of pleasure for sure, because her hip pushed up toward my face, eager for more. I drooled into her ass and moved my thumb up to mash it into her hole, pushing in and then out. Quickly, I teased her with my tongue, flicking, swirling, poking, circling, then up and drooling a big shot of saliva into her now quivering hole. When I didn't do anything, the whimper started but it only became louder when I inserted my thumb into her, this time pushing until it was all the way in. I stopped, letting her feel it plugged inside her, then began moving it in a small circle the same way I'd started to work her pussy less than a hour before.

She didn't moan like she did when I manipulated her cunt, but every once in a while she let out a small, quiet grunt. I liked the sound of that. There was something abandoned, almost primeval in that sound. I tried hard to make her do it again, pushing my face in so I could lick all around the base of my thumb as it dug around in her ass. Soon, I was able to make her grunt several times a minute, but couldn't predict exactly when or what would actually do it. I was so fucking hard.

I scrambled from my side to my knees without interrupting my work, passing first my right and then my left knee over her leg. Mom opened her legs to make room for me. She must have known what was coming but didn't object. Still, I wasn't 100% sure, so it was with a little trepidation that I lined my cock up with her pussy, my thumb still twisting in her ass. Her legs were open and inviting. I slipped my left hand under her to lift her hip and felt her helping, rising up to meet me. GOD, she was going to let me fuck her, she was even welcoming me, almost asking me!

Leaning forward, I pushed my cock at her, trying to find her pussy, to push into her gorgeous, hot wet cunt. I was there, but I couldn't get in! What was stopping me? I shoved, and shoved. I was blocked. It was her fingers! Mom had her hand covering her pussy. I poked again, and again. I reached around, trying to pull her hand away but couldn't. I pulled my thumb out of her ass, heard her whimper, reached down to dislodge her hand. I couldn't. Why was she stopping me?​