Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories: Jack's Story

A mile out of town, Mom patted the seat beside her.

"Sit here," she said, "I want to talk to you."

I was still mad about the way Mom had tricked me and I definitely didn't want to talk about Carrie in case I made it worse.

"I can hear you from here," I countered glumly.

"Please. Sit here." Mom patted the seat again.

Frowning, I reluctantly unbuckled my belt and moved next to her, doing my belt up in an exaggerated fashion to indicate that I was upset.

"Don't be mad at me, honey," Mom slipped her hand onto my leg, patting it.

"You said you wouldn't say anything," I complained.

"No. I said I wouldn't stop you," she corrected me, "but I won't say anything either."

"You won't?" my voice raised in a query.

"I won't," she said.

We drove on in silence for a minute. Mom was driving slower than usual.

"So, what attracts you so much to Aunt Carrie?" Mom asked, her voice calm and quiet.

"Mom," I drawled in a whining voice.

"I was just wondering. I mean, she's as old as me. She's not like girls your age."

"That's just it. They're not interesting. They're so full of themselves, always playing silly games to make you go after them. Aunt Carrie isn't like that."

"No. And she doesn't have anything to keep her busy at home, either, like me, I guess," Mom said, surprising me with her reference to Uncle Jim which seemed contrary to her previous comment implying he was a bit of a lech. I didn't say anything to that, or the way she'd lumped Dad in.

"Well, your Aunt Carrie is just like family. You really shouldn't do anything with her that you wouldn't do with your own mother."

That statement took me by surprise. I had no idea how to respond, so I just sat still.

Mom's hand slid up my leg a moment later, right up over my shorts to where my boner had been the day before but there wasn't anything there today, her actions up to this point not being exactly encouraging. But the presence of her hand, and her strange statement, were causing a stir. Her hand kneaded my thigh.

"You won't, will you?" Mom asked.

I didn't say anything. Mom stroked her hand deeper between my legs, them rubbed her palm against me as she pulled her hand back. My cock stiffened, straightening out in my shorts under her hand. She rubbed her hand down again, rolling my hardening shaft on my leg.

"You won't, will you?" she repeated, rolling her hand back.

"No," I whispered.

"Promise?" she rolled me down.

"Promise," I answered.

"That's good. We've always been close, you and I, and you don't want to ruin that. Do you?"

"No, Mom," I whispered with difficulty, my breath catching as she rolled her hand harder over and back on my cock.

"I mean it," Mom whispered, "don't you dare do anything with Carie you wouldn't with me. I'M your mom."

"I won't, Mom. I promise," breathing quickly now.

Mom's hand suddenly slid away but quickly sprang back pushing my shorts higher, right off my now fully extended boner. Her hand slipped over my shaft, the feel of the soft skin on her palm making me gasp and my cock lurch.

"You better not," she warned me as her fingers closed around me.

Mom held me in her grip the rest of the way home. I couldn't believe I didn't come. She drove up the driveway, stopped the car in front of the garage, and turned the key off with her left hand. She sat there, staring straight ahead, as if afraid to look at me or her hand, the one not holding the keys. Her other hand loosely gripped my cock with her fingers curled around it.

Slowly, Mom began moving her hand, jacking me off. Faster and faster she moved until her hand was moving very quickly. I had a hard time breathing and was moaning softly, my head down, watching her jack my cock. I exploded, my cock bursting like a volcano, spraying the dash in front of me, covering the ashtray, spurting cum on the radio, gasping in ecstasy. Mom opened the door after my last squirt.

"You better clean the car," she said. "Your Dad will be home tomorrow."

She shut the door and walked briskly into the house.
​

* * *​

Dad came home. The best few days in my short life were now over. I couldn't see how things could continue with Dad around, especially when he would be picking me up from games and practices. Nothing happened all week. Dad picked me up from practice on Thursday and he also took me to the game on Saturday, stayed to watch, talking with other parents, and took me home. All the way, I played those blissful few days over in my head and had to hold my jersey in my lap to cover my boner.

After Church on Sunday, we went home to have lunch. When we finished, I went upstairs to change for practice and overheard Mom asking Dad if he minded if she took me to practices. "I know you like to watch the games, dear, but I want to be involved too."

"Oh. Sure, Marg, I understand," Dad answered.

My rising star subsided on the way into town, however, when Mom didn't invite me to sit next to her and barely spoke to me. After the game, it was the same, and she didn't pat the seat beside her to beckon me a mile out of town either.

"Uncle Jim asked Dad if you could go over to help him with something," Mom finally said, her eyes on the road.

"Oh?" I commented.

"I'm sure your Aunt Carrie is behind it."

"Mom. You're best friends. You shouldn't be mad at her."

Mom looked thoughtful, then her face brightened and she said, "You're right. I'm being silly."

I shrugged. "A little," I said.

"She can't help it if she thinks you're handsome and has nice legs to attract you," Mom said.

"Nope," I smiled at Mom, "it's not a crime."

Laughing nervously, Mom said, "And I bet she showed them to you, didn't she?"

"Mom, don't start."

Mom dropped her right hand down to her knee and pulled her skirt up a couple of inches.

"Did she pull her skirt up for you?"

I nodded, wondering what she was up to.

"Like this?" she asked.

Nodding, I said, "Higher." I liked this game.

"Like this?" Mom asked again, pulling her skirt up a couple more inches.

"Higher."

"No," Mom's tone indicated disbelief.

"She did."

Mom pulled her skirt even higher. It was now only four inches below her crotch.

"Even higher, Mom."

"No way. She didn't."

I raised my eyes and nodded.

"Show me," Mom said, tipping her head, indicating I should come closer.

I unbuckled my belt and shifted to the middle, my excitement rising just by sliding into that favored position. I reached down toward Mom's skirt.

"Buckle up," Mom said.

Quickly, I buckled my belt, fumbling it a couple of times. Mom laughed at my clumsiness.

"Something on your mind, Jack?"

The belt finally clicked in and I reached down to grasp her skirt, holding the hem right between her legs.

"Show me, Jack." There was excitement in Mom's voice too.

I pushed her skirt up, bunching it before my hand. I kept pushing, very slowly, giving Mom the chance to stop me, not wanting to go too far, but she kept silent. I pushed until my hand was stopped by her tummy. She looked down, then raised her eyes back to the road. I slid my hand to the side of her hip and tugged the skirt up there too. Mom lifted her leg a little, allowing me to pull the skirt up. I slid my hand, following the hem, across to her other hip and tugged there. Mom lifted that leg as well. Shifting my hand back to the center, between her legs, I lifted the skirt up along her tummy, baring her panties. I leaned forward so I could look past her breasts which were heaving a little with her more rapid breathing.

"So, are my legs as nice as hers?" Mom asked, her breaking voice betraying her excitement.

"Man. Mom, they're awesome."

"But Jack, you're not even looking at my legs. What are you looking at?" Mom teased.

I blushed furiously but kept my eyes on her panties, in particular, on the bulge pushing out between her legs.

"Do you like that more, Jack?"

"Yesss," I hissed. "It's super-awesome, Mom."

"Hmmmm, that's nice to hear. I haven't been called awesome before," Mom laughed.

Her leg rose as she moved her foot from the gas to the brake, slowing the car. "Let's take the long way home," she said, turning down Curtis Road, a country lane that looped back onto the highway but took us a few miles out of our way. "It's such an nice day."

As we drove away from the main road, I put my hand on her leg, on top of her thigh. Mom was concentrating on the road and gave no indication she was aware I was touching her. I started to scratch my fingers into her leg, slowly digging deeper between her thighs, sliding my fingers closer and closer to that beautiful mound of panties. Mom drove on, commenting on how beautiful the country was out here. Scratch, scratch, my fingers were itching to dive right in but I held them back. Slowly, slowly, I cautioned myself. Don't rush, don't blow it.

Mom tensed up and looked nervous as a car rounded the bend ahead of us but relaxed when it turned out to be nobody we knew, expelling her breath in a big sigh. I shifted my hand right down, my fingers hitting the seat between her legs. The skirt fell over my hand, blocking my view of her panties. Mom looked down, then returned her eyes to the road. I kept my hand still, against the very soft skin of her upper thighs, my hand now touching both legs.

It was a couple minutes later that she finally spoke, "You want to touch them, don't you?"

I looked defensively confused.

"My panties," Mom explained, unnecessarily.

I nodded, too excited to speak.

"Did she let you?"

I shook my head. I couldn't bring myself to lie to my Mom.

"But you want to touch mine, don't you, my panties?"

My breath sucked in.

"You like the sound of that?" Mom laughed. "My panties?"

I nodded. My whole body was tingling.

"But I'm your mother," Mom laughed again, "how can you want to touch your mommy's panties?"

I shrugged, my face going bright red. It was difficult to breathe.

Mom slowed the car, pulled over to the side and steered onto a small road blocked by a farmer's gate. She put the car in park and turned to look at me. My hand was still between her legs, so close, but not touching her panties.

"You're very naughty, Jack." I would have been upset except she didn't seem to be mad. Her eyes were sparkling and excited. She leaned her face close to mine. "How can a good boy want to touch his mother's panties?" she whispered.

I didn't answer. My body was like a stone, I couldn't move.

"Well?" she asked. Still, I didn't answer or move. "Touch them then. Touch your mother's panties, you very bad boy."

She opened her legs a little and nudged forward to bring her panties into contact with the edge of my hand along my index finger and thumb, then nudged me a second and third time.

"Go on, touch them," she insisted, "you naughty boy. Do it if you want to." Nudge, nudge.

Finally, I pushed my hand against her panties.

"Kiss me, baby." Mom's hand pulled my face to hers and I pushed my fingers against her panties as her tongue slipped inside my mouth. Oh my god. This wasn't anything like the dates I'd been on. Minutes later, she pulled her head back. My mouth felt like it was burning. Mom dropped her hand to grip my forearm, twisting it, turning my hand flat against her.

"Cup it, baby," she whispered, "hold it in your hand."

Mom returned her hand to my face as she turned more towards me. This time I slipped my tongue into her mouth first. My cock was raging in my pants as I formed my hand and moved to grip her panties. I rubbed it as I dug my tongue around in her mouth, thrilling to the feel of her grinding against my hand and the sound of her flaring nostrils in my ear. I mashed her pantied mound with my palm until she broke the kiss, gasping for air, her hips bucking wildly against my hand.

"Rub it," she cried, "rub it hard."

I started rubbing her panties furiously. She thrust her hips out, pushing my hand back as she slipped down the seat, slumping to her side against the door.

"Hard, hard," she yelled, her hips bucking at blazing speed, her legs suddenly clamping my hand like a vice. "Oh god, oh god, ohhhhhhhhhh," she was almost screaming. Suddenly, she slumped, her hips dropping to the seat, her legs still thrusting, jerking on my hand.

Finally, she stopped and her legs relaxed, allowing my hand to be pulled away. Her eyes were closed. She stayed like that, slumped against the door, until her breathing returned to normal. My hand was damp. I sniffed it, inhaling her musky odor. Mom's eyes opened.

"Am I still awesome?"

"Totally," I answered enthusiastically.

Mom smiled, sat up and squared herself to the steering wheel, not bothering to push her dress down to cover herself. "Am I your favorite older woman?"

"You're my favorite woman period," I assured her.

"Well, we can't be late after every practice, you know," she said plainly as she started the car and reversed back onto the road. She didn't wait for me to answer. As she slipped the car into drive, she added, "We wouldn't want your Dad to start wondering, now would we?" She laughed. "Not that he'd think his precious sports star was feeling up his wife," she turned to look at me, laughing, "you bad, bad boy." She looked down at the lump in my shorts. "You'd better do something about that when we get home."

Mom didn't offer to relieve me. I guess she felt she'd given me enough that day. I beat off twice in the shower as soon as we got home. I had some great dreams that night.
​

* * *​

I couldn't keep my mind or eyes off my mom after that. I was careful when Dad was around, which was most of the time when I was home, but the few times when there was just Mom and I, I made no bones about admiring her. She seemed to blossom under my attention. Her skin looked healthier and she just seemed happier. Even she noticed it, commenting that nobody could love a woman better than her son. It was three days after that day. We were in the laundry room and I was watching as Mom filled the washer, then measured detergent into the slide-in container.

"Doesn't Dad love you just as much?" I argued.

Mom smiled. "I said better, not more," she replied, closing the lid and pushing the buttons to start the washer. It kicked in, filling the little room with noise. Mom turned to face me, leaning back against the washer.

"You haven't mentioned Carrie," she said. "Has Dad said anything about going over to help Uncle Jim?

"I haven't even thought about her," I answered, not quite truthfully. "And no, he hasn't."

Mom smiled, seeming very pleased. My eyes ran down her body, over her ample breasts and down her legs, then back up to rest on her skirt, just below her waist. Mom watched my perusal, taking a deep breath when my eyes passed over her breasts, causing them to expand and lift.

"See anything you like, Mister?" she said in a mock hooker voice.

"Umhmmm," I nodded.

"I'm up here," she laughed.

I kept my eyes fixed on her skirt.

"Jack wants to be a bad boy, again, doesn't he?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Well, he's going to have to wait until the weekend," Mom said, pushing her hair up behind her head and striking a teasing pose.

"That's two days away, Mom," I complained. "Can't you just give naughty Jack a little look, to tide him over?"

"It's too dangerous. His Dad's right upstairs."

"But he never comes down to the laundry room. He's allergic to it."

Mom laughed out loud. "You have a point there," she said. She dropped her hands to her skirt, grasping it on the outside of her legs, lifting it a little, teasing. "I don't know, though."

"Come on, Mom," I begged, "just a little peek."

"I don't think so," she replied, but lifted her skirt up a little more anyway.

"Please, Mom. I'll be good."

"What makes you think I want you to be good?" she teased, pulling her skirt higher, now more than halfway from her knees.

"I'll be whatever you want me to." I could feel myself tingling in my jeans. I knew she was teasing me now, that she would probably let me have a look but not touch her, not while Dad was in the house.

"You really want it, don't you?" Mom's voice was suddenly hoarse, possibly reacting to my obvious need. She pulled her skirt up high enough so I could see her panties peeking out underneath. She swished the skirt from side to side. My mouth was dry, my tongue slipped out to lick my lips.

Mom smiled, "Is that true? Do you really need to see it?" I recognized the excitement in her voice. She was getting into it too.

I dropped to my knees in front of her, gambling on humor. "Yes," I gasped, feigning exaggerated sincerity," I need to pray to the panty god."

Mom laughed out loud again but her voice was still excited when she spoke, "Then pray."

"Oh, great panty god, show yourself, reveal yourself to your true believers," I grasped Mom's legs behind her knees, pulling them slightly apart.

Slowly, Mom raised her skirt higher and higher, until she was holding it by her hips, her panties fully exposed, allowing me to see far more than I had in the car that day. She swayed her hips around in a slow, erotic tease.

I pushed my face in close, pulling her legs apart some more, sniffing her musky odor. She was excited, I could smell her dampness already. Her pussy quivered behind her panties, shaking from the washing machine as it rumbled through its load. I slid my hands up the back of her legs, my fingers stretching around the inside of her legs. Up, up, until my fingers were resting below her panty legs.

"Stop, Jack," she said, breathlessly. "You can't touch me, it's too dangerous ... your Dad," her voice trailed off as I looked up into her eyes, then back to stare at her pussy, my need obvious in my eyes. I pressed my fingers into the inside of her thighs, pressuring her legs open.

"Jack, no," Mom said, her voice barely audible above the washer, but her hands still held her skirt high on her hips, leaving herself open to me.

I think she expected me to touch her then, to move my fingers higher onto her panties, but I think I really surprised her, judging by her gasp, when I stuck my tongue way out and pressed it against her mound where it pouted out the farthest, letting it stick there, pushing into the little cleft.

"Oh, god, Jack," she cried, "ohhhhhhhh."

I pushed my tongue against her hard then and when her hands came down to grasp my head, she held me instead of pushing me away. I chewed on her, munching her pouting lips in my mouth. Mom was going wild, 'ohhhhing' and 'ahhhhing'. I spread her legs wide and pushed in, letting her legs slip onto my shoulders while I munched away. I ran my tongue hard side to side under her panties. She really seemed to love that but the best part, I think, was when I pushed my tongue up her center and dug it into her above her mound where I thought her clit would be. She went crazy, jamming her pussy against my face, jerking crazily until, finally, she suddenly slowed down and just shuddered on my mouth, pressing my nose flat against my face. Then she went still and pushed me away.

Mom turned as I stood. Her voice was almost normal again, "You may as well take those jeans off while you're down here," she said. "Come on, you can take a clean pair from the dryer. It'll save me carrying them up and down the stairs."

I shucked my jeans off. I never knew what to expect from her. I tossed my jeans on the floor in front of the dryer.

"Your shorts too," she said.

I shucked those too and tossed them down. Mom turned then, smiling, looking down at the rock hard, youthful pole aiming right at her.

"Well, well," she said, "what have we here? You're very naughty, Jack, to show that to your mother. What would your coach say, if he knew you were showing your cock to your mother? You're very bad."

I didn't say anything, afraid to break the spell of whatever game she was playing. I stood there, my cock wavering before her, not the least bit interested in dying down.​