Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories: Kevin's Story

But I didn't. I let my eyes run up her legs, over hips, to her chest, and stopped there, replaying the scene with Matt kissing Mom as he unbuttoned her dress and unfettered her tits. When I 'came to' Mom was getting up, seemingly angry, saying she was going to bed early. Dad barely acknowledged her.

The next night was a replay. I watched Mom the entire time she made dinner. She didn't admonish me or even talk to me. When we washed the dishes, I continued brushing against her and started to put my hand on her hip or waist every time I reached around her to put a dish away. She didn't stop me, or even rebuke me, but she became more angry and aggressive washing the dishes, banging them about more. She hurried through, finishing the dishes quickly but leaving them less clean than her normal standard. I rewashed a few dishes after she left before joining my parents again in the living room where I continued my admiration of her legs and breasts.

By the end of the week, Mom wasn't hurrying through the dishes, but she wasn't dragging it out either. She just went about her business as usual, ignoring my apt attention. I almost always had my hand on her hip or up along her waist when I wasn't actively drying a dish. In fact, I had made it a habit to grasp her waist when I passed by her if Dad wasn't around, usually giving her a quick kiss on her cheek, and sometimes on her neck. She just seemed to bear with it, pausing to let me finish but not reacting against it or for it, except that is if Dad was very near and sounded like he was coming our way. Then, her hand would press against my abdomen or chest to gently urge me away, or she would try to turn away early. The thing that excited me about those times was that her breath would quicken.

On Saturday night, we faced more dishes because we'd had our usual roast beef dinner. There was no hurry because Dad very rarely took Mom out. As we worked our way through the mound of dishes, I continued my usual brushes across Mom's backside but stepped up my waist holding to give her side a slight squeeze and, while drying a dish behind her, leaning in to kiss her neck. We didn't speak while we did the dishes, Mom concentrating on ignoring me, waiting me out I suppose, and I on enjoying myself, wondering how far I could push things. I was surprised, then, when she spoke.

"Kevin," she spoke softly, "if I let you see my legs, will you stop this nonsense?"

I finished drying the dish in my hand. "What nonsense?"

"You know. If I put a robe on tonight and show you my legs, after Dad goes upstairs, will you leave me alone? After all, you said you wanted me to wear the dress because it showed my legs."

"I don't know, Mom. Matt got to see you in that dress, and with your hair down. Wearing a bathrobe isn't the same."

Mom paused, her head turned to the side, thinking. "I can't wear that dress in this house," she blurted out, "I just can't."

Recognizing that this might be a painful memory for her, I relented. A little. "Will you go for a drive with me then, tomorrow?"

"Where?"

"Anywhere," I replied, "just out in the country."

"Ok," she seemed pleased at the opportunity to get away.

"And will you wear the dress once we're away?"

Mom frowned, but her frown slowly dissipated. "Alright," she said, "I'll wear the dress while we're out on our drive." She smiled and turned back to washing the dishes.

I had placed both hands on her waist while we were talking. I leaned in now to whisper, "And you'll wear your hair loose?" I asked, letting my breath blow past her ear and sliding my hands just a little higher so they were at the sides of her breasts.

She drew her breath in before answering, "Yes."

"Thanks, Mom." I turned my mouth down to connect with her neck, kissing the muscle cord running across to her shoulder, pressing myself into her behind just a touch more and squeezing my hands in tighter, against the side of her breasts. "Thank you," I repeated.

I was surprised when I entered the living room to see that Mom wasn't there with Dad. I sat down in the chair in the opposite corner from Dad and picked up a magazine from the side table, flipping through it while I thought of the concession I'd won, about what a great day tomorrow would be. I was surprised again to see Mom coming down the stairs, already dressed for bed in her bathrobe. She never did this and, given her commitment to wear the dress for me, I had thought the bathrobe and leg show were out. Was she going to give me a preview anyway?

My eyes never left her as she approached the couch and sat down at the end near me. She rummaged through the pile of magazines and picked one up to read. Dad didn't pay any attention. Fifteen minutes or more went by without anything happening. Mom changed her position a couple of times but she didn't loosen her robe at all, keeping herself covered from neck to ankle, with her feet covered by fluffy slippers.

Then, Dad's favorite show came on, CSI, and his eyes were glued to the set. Within minutes, Mom changed her position, re-crossing her legs again but this time, she didn't reach down to tug the robe firmly into place around her ankles. The robe lifted about six inches up to rest halfway to her knee but, more alluringly, it split to show the inside of her calf, on my side, all the way to her knee.

Mom extended her foot, letting the heel flop down, the sole marking a 45 degree angle away from the bottom of her toes. As I watched, she began tapping her foot to some silent tune. I ran my eyes up her legs, leaving her foot with difficulty, past the magazine in her lap and climbing her torso to glance at her face. She was smiling. I gazed intensely at her, demanding her attention, but she never looked my way.

Running my eyes down her legs I found even more showing as her robe seemed to have split even wider. Her foot was still tapping to the same tune and, as I watched, she curled her toes and let the slipper fall to the floor. Her toes stretched out and then spread wide. Relaxing, her foot arched, bending her instep into a tight curl and stretched out, toes spreading wide again. Mom repeated this languid stretching over and over. Gradually, I noticed how the muscles tightened and released in her leg as her foot played, how it made her calf look hard and muscular and then suddenly soft and yielding.

The sound of the show intensified as it neared the half-time commercial set, setting up the hook to keep viewers riveted so they wouldn't change channels. At that moment, Mom's hand slid off the top of her magazine to pinch the robe where it lay on her thigh. As Dad leaned forward toward the TV, Mom's delicate hand lifted her robe, re-arranging it on her legs, but pulled sufficiently high that I could see the tops of her thighs, at least a foot above her knees. The skin there looked incredibly soft and enticing. Her hand paused, holding the robe open, clearly letting me see. As the show reached its mid-point climax and the commercial started, the robe closed again, Mom's hand smoothing it down her leg, all the way to the ankle.

"That is such a great show," Dad exclaimed, getting up, "this is a really good one." He headed quickly upstairs for a bathroom break.

I sat there, staring at Mom, my mouth open, I'm sure. She had an enigmatic smile on her face, but seemed engrossed in her reading. By the time I realized this was a great opportunity to see more of her legs while Dad was upstairs, the toilet flushed and I could hear him tromping down the stairs. He resumed his position without saying anything more and quickly became engrossed as soon as the show started again.

I waited for Mom to renew her leg show, expecting a full half hour of tantalizing display. But she made no move to continue. I was noticeably fidgeting, becoming quite antsy actually, trying to indicate my great desire to see more of her legs. Her hands moved, but not down to pull on her robe. Instead they moved up behind her head, fussing with her hair.

My disappointment gave way to a thrilling bolt that shot from my eyes through to my hardening cock as she shook her head and the first pile of deep auburn hair tumbled out over her shoulders. She gave it another light shake, and then another. Then she shook her head hard, side to side, throwing her hair into a violent swirl, finally settling down around her face which was now pointed directly at me. She was smiling, that same enigmatic smile, her soft lips barely turned up. Then she looked away, picked up her magazine and began to read.

As I stared, cock hard, mouth open, Mom's hand slid across the magazine laying on her thigh, and on past to her knee. Her fingers slowly tapped her knee, then sped up to a light drumming that continued while the tension on TV grew. Mom pulled her right leg up from where it lay crossed on top of her left, slowly pulling her right foot up to her left knee and finally resting it there, her hand holding her robe in place. From Dad's side, she was completely covered, the robe stretched across her leg, but I could see the whole inside of her right leg, right up to where her panties would be if they weren't covered by her robe and the magazine.

My eyes were captivated by her bare leg and I wouldn't have thought it possible for them to look closer without burning her skin until she did a very simple thing, she arched her foot. Like before, this tensed the muscles in her calf, turning her soft looking skin into cordoned contours of shadow and light. I wasn't so focused on her lower leg to miss the tensing of her upper thigh, especially on the inside running up to her loins. Mom kept reading her magazine, she never looked at me but the whole time she flexed the muscles in her right leg, intensifying its dazzling effect on me. As CSI neared its conclusion, she collapsed her leg, stretching it out over the other, her robe demurely arranged by the time the commercials started.

Dad got up to go to bed after that and Mom followed, to my great disappointment. She didn't look back as she followed Dad up the stairs but she shook her hair, tosing it wildly over her shoulders. Dad hadn't even noticed that Mom's hair was loose.

The next day at breakfast Mom announced that I was going to take her out for a drive, and would he like to come? I almost choked on my eggs. Oh yeah, that would be a lot of fun. Given her actions last night, I had laid awake, hard, most of the night, my mind imagining over and over what could happen the next day. But Dad declined, which I'm sure Mom knew he would. When Dad headed out to the garage to get the rider mower fired up, Mom packed a picnic and we left shortly after. Mom wore a long coat with her typical kerchief covering her hair, tied back as usual in a tight bun.

It was a brilliant, sunny day, perfect for a drive. I headed for the country, toward some small, windy roads, still paved but seldom traveled. I rolled the windows down in my four door hardtop, the car my father had given me so much grief for buying because I could have gotten a sedan for much less. The wind blew by but it wasn't cold, it was such a beautiful summer day.

It wasn't until we were miles from town, turning off on the three digit country roadway that Mom pulled her kerchief from her head with her left hand. Reaching up, she pulled her bun apart and shook her head, tossing her hair out, fluffing it up with her hands and pulling it out through her fingers. I loved the look of her and watched her while she modernized her look, only glancing at the road as we drove along.

We had only driven a few miles before we ran into a little town. I had never been here before, having never strayed from the larger roads but it wasn't hard to find our way through. The downtown was only about two blocks long and we were almost out the other side when Mom implored me to stop at a Dairy Queen. We pulled in. There was no drive in window so I went inside to get a banana split, Mom's request. When I returned, Mom was sitting in the dress, her coat thrown across the back seat.

"Let's find somewhere nice to eat this," she said as I handed our splits to her. I couldn't help looking at her legs as I drove, though the dress came down almost to her knees. Mom's arms were also bare, something I hadn't seen since that afternoon with Matt. All in all, she was sporting more womanly skin that I'd ever seen on her.

I pulled off on a small, grassy/dirt road winding off to the right, probably toward a few small farms, turning off at the top of a small rise that afforded a view over the green fields. As soon as we stopped, Mom opened the door and got out, walking toward the edge looking back the way we'd come. "Bring a blanket," she yelled back, "I put one in the basket."

I retrieved the blanket and caught up to her, standing there looking over the field. I admired her legs as I spread the blanket. Mom sat down, tucking her legs to her side, handing a banana split to me, and digging plastic spoons and napkins out of the bag. We ate our splits in silence. I finished way before Mom and watched as she ate hers, delicately inserting small spoonfuls of ice cream into her mouth, licking any extra from her lips that didn't make it all the way in. I beat her near the end, reaching out quickly with my finger to wipe some chocolate from her upper lip. She smiled at me and didn't seem upset when I pulled it back to lick the chocolate off. She just turned her head sideways again, showing me the profile of her face. She really was quite attractive. She had a lot of sex appeal with her hair flowing free.

When she finished, Mom carefully put the spoons, the plastic dishes and our napkins into the bag. "Shall we go?" she asked.

"Let's stay her for a while longer," I responded. In answer, she stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back, bracing herself on her hands. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, allowing her hair to fall free behind her back. She used her feet to push her shoes off her feet, bending her knees and pulling them toward her, causing her dress to slide up her thighs, closer to her pelvis than her knees. My mouth was dry as I ran my eyes up and down her legs. I was surprised when I noticed her watching me.

"Matt was right, Mom. You look fantastic. Thanks for letting me see you in this dress." My eyes strayed back to her legs, following the curve of her calves down to her ankles.

"That's ok, Kevin. Fair is fair."

"So you admit wearing the dress for Matt."

"Yes," mom replied softly, "but I think you like me in it even more that he did." Her knees widened a little as she said that, forcing the dress a little farther up her thigh. I don't know if she knew, but from my vantage point, I could see most of the backs of her thighs, though not all the way to her panties. Still, it was very sexy and I could feel myself hardening in my jeans. "Perhaps you're more of a leg man than your brother," Mom added, moving her knees just slightly wider again.

"Perhaps," I mumbled in response, loving her legs with my eyes. We sat there for a few minutes, Mom quietly allowing me to look all I wanted, moving her legs side to side in unison, or apart and together again, once stretching her right foot up in the air, tensing her muscles and twisting her leg before bringing it back.

"You're more relaxed than Matt. That's nice. Oh, you've been pretty persistent up to now, a real pain in the butt, but now that you're here, you seem content to take your time. That's attractive in a man. Rare, but attractive."

I looked up at Mom. She was smiling at me. I smiled back. We were very relaxed with each other.

"Do I have a time limit, Mom?"

"No, sweetie. You don't. I'm yours all day."

"And after?"

"You can't keep doing what you're doing. Your Dad will notice."

"What if he doesn't?" I reached out to touch Mom's leg. She watched as I traced my fingers up and down her leg, from her ankle to her knee.

"Let's not think about that," she replied, continuing to watch me stroke her leg.

I stroked her leg in silence for a few minutes.

"So, you'll let me do what Matt got to do?"

Mom seemed surprised. "I'm letting you see me in this dress." She seemed suddenly nervous. "What do you think Matt got to do?"

I looked at her, my love showing in my eyes, I'm sure. "Can I touch your hair? Matt said you let him touch your hair."

Mom visibly relaxed. She shifted her hands behind her, her upper body moving enticingly as she did. "Sure, you can touch my hair, Kevin."

I shifted closer to Mom then, moving up beside her, letting my hand slide up her leg with my fingers dangling on the inside.

"Can I touch your legs for a while longer?"

"Sure," Mom smiled, "Like I said, we have all day and I like that you take you time."

"Thanks, Mom." I trailed my fingers down the back of her calf, my hand reaching around the inside of her leg to do so.

Mom closed her eyes, her head tipping back again, "Uh huh," she said, as she lowered herself onto her elbows instead of her hands.

I caressed Mom's leg for some time, tickling up and down, trying to be gentle yet stroking her as sensually as I could. Mom looked really relaxed. As I neared her knee, coming over the thick part of her calf, I arched my hand so it scraped against her thigh. She tensed the first time I did this but relaxed as I continued to her knee and journeyed back down to her ankle. I didn't scrape her again until the fifth time after that and the third time after that. She only tensed up the first and second times. Soon, I was regularly scraping along the back of her thigh, managing to hit sooner by arching my hand awkwardly so I could touch her higher up her leg. I was also arcing my fingers around the hollow behind her knee and I think I was on my third time down the back of her thigh with my fingers before she noticed. I caressed the outer part of her thigh and moved my fingers inward, toward her center, for the return journey. I heard a sudden intake of Mom's breath, and that, I think, is when she first noticed that I had strayed from her calf to her thigh.

"I think you should try my hair now, sweetie."

The tone of her voice didn't seem to leave room for choice but I tried anyway. "Just a few more times, Mom."

"Three more," she replied, "just three."

I tried to strain my fingers closer to the inside each time I reached the furthest point up her thigh. She smiled, amused by my attempts, but kept her eyes closed. She must have enjoyed what I was doing because I was on my ninth stroke when she shifted her leg downward, signaling that my leg time was over.

I shifted to a position kneeling behind Mom as she moved back up to brace herself on her hands again. I slipped my fingers into her hair, pulling gently lest I hurt her by catching a snag.

"You're so much more thoughtful than your brother," Mom said.

I began stroking my fingers through Mom's hair, concentrating on giving her a relaxing head massage. A long while later she slumped back against me, her back laying on my thighs, tipping her face up to me as I massaged her temples and her jaw.

"Oh, god that feels so nice, Kevin."

"Just relax and enjoy yourself, Mom," I whispered.

I continued massaging her face and head, running my fingers through her hair as well. After a while, I reached forward to slip my fingers behind each knee, pulling them closer to me. Mom shifted her feet closer to her bottom to help. I slid the fingers of each hand in a slow caress down the back of each thigh. I could feel her legs tense, but she didn't stop me. I pulled back up just as slowly and ran my fingers down again.

As I pulled back up, Mom spoke softly, "You really do like my legs, don't you Kevin?"

"Yes, Mom." My voice was dry and cracked. My nerves were tingling, I was so nervous.

"Ok," she whispered.

I continued caressing her thighs, looking down to watch her face in my lap. She seemed serene, her eyes closed. Some time into this, I closed my wrists to the sides of her legs, pinching her dress and dragging it on the down stroke, right to the top of her legs. I could see her panties now. I looked down at Mom's face. She was smiling, that same enigmatic expression she's worn the night before. I stroked my fingers down her thighs, staring at her panties and the faint outline of her womanhood laying underneath.​