Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories: Mark's Story

"Over your snit?" Mom smiled, walking toward me, waiting until I nodded again before climbing onto the bed and crawling up to sit back on the pillows next to me.

"You aren't staying downstairs to play host?" I asked.

"No," she replied, "I thought I'd let Brad keep his eyes on the game for once."

"Well, Mom. You have to admit he doesn't have much at home to look at, like Dad does."

"Mark. That's not nice. Martha is your friend's mother." Mom's rebuke was belied by her face which seemed pleased by my words. "Anyway, I don't recall you being interested, until I asked you to massage my feet." Mom pulled her knees up and rubbed her feet together. "And you didn't seem to be able to stay focused even on that little job."

It was my turn to smile. "I couldn't help it, Mom. You have really great legs, and your skin is so soft."

"Ok, stop it. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I know, Mom," I cut her off, "that's why I came upstairs." I turned onto my side, facing her, and slipped my right hand down to grasp her foot, my palm covering her arch, fingers reaching around to her instep. "I knew you'd want to have a private talk after they left for the pub..."

"Actually, I thought we could..."

"so we wouldn't be disturbed." I started to knead Mom's foot, bringing my left hand down to bracket her ankle from behind between thumb and fingers, squeezing and releasing, sliding up and down her Achilles tendon. Mom's hand came down to gently finger the back of my neck and twiddle the hair on the back of my head as I continued to work on her foot.

"Mark," she complained gently when my hand first slid up the back of her calf.

"We can't talk until they're gone, Mom." I kept sliding my hand up and down her leg. "We may as well relax, doing something we both like," my voice was soft and cajoling.

Mom didn't answer, so I kept rubbing her leg. After a few minutes, when I heard her breathing quicken, I held her foot and leg, put my hand flat against her calf under her knee, and dragged her down the bed until her head was flat on the pillow. Pressing with that hand the other way but now against her thigh, I pushed her foot and drove her knee toward her shoulder, holding her leg tight to her chest as I released her foot and slid my hand up the back of her thigh.

"Mark, what are you doing?"

"Just tickling your leg, Mom, until they leave, that's all," I whispered.

"But I don't think ..."

"Just until they leave, Mom. Then we can talk without being interrupted."

Mom relaxed, allowing me to continue sliding my fingers up and down her thigh for several more minutes. She didn't protest until she felt me getting up onto my knees.

"What are you doing, Mark?"

Raised up, I could see that Mom didn't even open her eyes.

"I can't reach your other leg, Mom. I'm just getting up so I can tickle your other leg, too."

I lifted Mom's other foot as I positioned myself below her, bringing both feet down to rest on my thighs and putting my hands on the back of hers to continue my massage.

"Just relax," I soothed, "until they're gone."

Again, Mom let me continue stroking her legs. Waiting a few minutes for her tension to subside, I lifted her feet to rest them against my shoulders and shifted forward. Her pleated skirt fell from her knees to her chest, baring her legs completely, and exposing the panties that covered the pleasure spot I had enjoyed so much the day before. My hands stroked closer to her panties as I leaned forward to roll her hips up and I couldn't help pressing my fingers in as I slid them off to either side, spreading her flesh and emphasizing the long puffy crest pushing up against her panties.

"Mark, I really think we should talk now."

"Not while they're still here, Mom. I can't."

"But I really think ..."

I picked up the hem of Mom's plaid skirt and pulled it up over her head, gently laying the material on her face, muffling her words.

"Talk later," I laughed, "after they're gone."

Making light of it worked, for she fell silent. I returned to fondling her thighs. Soon, I was running my hands down, outside her legs to her hips, then gradually over her buttocks but careful to stay on her cheeks and avoiding her crack. I was surprised when she let me do this without any comment or movement to indicate disapproval.

It was just after this that I became aware of the halftime music. Dad and Brad would be leaving now. Would Dad come up to say goodbye to Mom? Panic welled up inside me, quickly replacing surging anger at the potential interruption at this crucial moment. I almost leapt from the bed but then a sobering thought consoled me. Dad wouldn't make an unnecessary trip up the stairs. I was sure he'd just leave, or continue watching the game.

Mom didn't seem to be aware the halftime show had started. It was just after this, as I was looking down at her, trying to see if she knew Dad might be leaving, when my stroking fingers first caught the waistband of her panties, dragging them up toward me from her hips, quite by accident. Mom didn't react.

The next time was on purpose. I dragged her panties off a little more, and then again a few strokes later. It took the whole halftime show but eventually I had Mom's panties below -- or from my perspective, above -- her buttocks, betraying her dark little hole and just the briefest hint of the pussy still hidden above. Amazing. Until that moment, I don't think my mother's asshole had ever crossed my mind, but there it was, a tiny crinkled donut around a small open oval. Spotlessly clean. I spread her cheeks, opening that tiny orifice into a small circle.

She spoke then but I couldn't hear her. I leaned forward to listen, seeing her lips moving under the skirt that profiled her face, but I still couldn't understand what she was saying.

"Shhhhh, Mom. They're still here."

I thought she answered that we had to talk, but I couldn't be sure.

"When they're gone, Mom. We'll talk when they're gone," I assured her. "Now, be quiet, before Dad comes upstairs," I warned, the thought momentarily alarming me until I assured myself that he was gone.

I slipped her panties up a little higher until the waistband was halfway across her pussy. Readying myself to plant my mouth on her, I paused to push my sweatpants down, freeing my huge, raging boner. I didn't want to mess them up like I had yesterday. I thought that after licking her pussy, she wouldn't notice until too late that I was rubbing my bare cock against her. I shifted my knees closer to grip Mom's hips and curled my hands and forearms around the backs of her thighs, making sure she couldn't get away easily if she reacted against my first embrace.

I stared at her panties, half covering her pussy. I pried with my hands, opening her little asshole as I leaned forward, extending my tongue, dipping into her spread crack, across her hole and up to her pussy, my nose shoving her panties out of the way as my slippery, wet reptile snaked between her lips, delving deep, thrusting into her surprised cunt as far as it could.

"Ohhhhh, GOD, MARK!" Mom cried. "Mark, Mark, Mark," she continued as I dug my tongue in her, shaking my head violently side to side as I ploughed her depths.

"Quiet, Mom," I whispered harshly when I finally pulled my face back, "shut up or they'll come upstairs."

I didn't wait for an answer. Instead, I pulled her cuntlips apart with my fingers and dropped my tongue into the wet pink canyon that yawed before me, lapping quickly to her muted moans. Several minutes later I pulled back.

"Hold your feet up," I said, and was pleased to see her hands come up to grasp her ankles, freeing mine to touch her more delicately while I considered what to do next. I knew she wouldn't stop me now. She was too far gone. I don't think my father had eaten her for a long, long time, if ever, and she wasn't about to miss out. She truly loved it. Her pussy was throbbing in anticipation of my tongue's next move.

I moved my fingers around her pussy, heightening her tension, tickling the nub above with the index finger of my left hand as I moved the index of my right slowly down her slit and below, to her little hole, lightly pressing in there.

"Oh, god," she whimpered, the skirt moving where her mouth was.

"What's this?" I whispered, tipping my fingernail in before touching my tongue to the bottom of her pussy, working my way up in side-to-side flicks interrupted by the odd dip into her slit. "What's this?" I repeated teasingly several more times until my tongue was playing around my finger at the top of her pussy while the other's fingernail was buried, wiggling in that little hole while I stimulated her above.

A few minutes later Mom's breath was rasping through her skirt. By that time, I was watching two fingers of my left hand slip in and out of her pussy while I wiggled my fully buried index finger in her ass. On a sudden urge, I pulled both hands away, dragged my tongue across both holes, and pushed forward as I straightened up, readying my cock for a plunge into her soaking slipperiness.

Mom abruptly let go of her legs and yanked her skirt down from her face, planting her feet on the bed beside me.

"NO."

I froze, my cock in hand, still poised above her pussy.

"No," Mom repeated, a firm yet desperate look on her face. "If you finish, I'll suck you."

"What?" I replied, stunned.

"I'll suck you, if you finish what you're doing."

We stared at each other for long seconds before I slowly lowered my head to her pussy, Mom raising and opening her legs to help, hands sliding around the back of my head, pulling me toward the pussy I'm sure she was set to deny me forever during our special talk.

I didn't rush. Mom wouldn't let me anyway. She was intent on making it last, pushing me away several times until she couldn't and pulled me in, her grip nearly breaking my neck as she tried to pull my mouth right inside her. She came hard. It took several minutes for her to quit shaking and quivering as she experienced two revival episodes.

I don't think Dad had ever made her come like that. I don't think anyone had. She looked like truly pleased as she watched me, a satisfied smile on her face, crawl over her hips and past her stomach to straddle her chest. She shifted higher up on the pillow then, knowing what was coming, her eyes on my cock as it wavered before her mouth. I grasped the side of her head and lifted it toward me.

"You won't have to suck much, Mom," I moaned, pressing the tip to her lips.

"I know," Mom whispered, finishing with open lips on that 'oh' sound, letting me slide my cock inside her in one full thrust. Then I was at it, fucking her mouth. I know she said she would suck me, but I wanted to fuck her mouth, to fuck her face, and she knew it. I felt her hands come up to grip my ass as my thrusts shortened, quickened, and grew more desperate as I hunched over her head, moaning as my cock scraped by her lips, feeling the wet heat of her constantly moving tongue, then grunting with each spurt that burst out of my burning hose.

When I finally pulled my softening cock out of Mom's mouth, expecting to see a mess all over her face, I was surprised to see her soft complexion unmarked, the only evidence of my attack being the end of a big swallow followed by Mom's smile.

"Oh, Mom," I gasped, dropping onto her chest, wrapping my arms around her.

"It's ok," she patted my back, "it's ok."

Mom continued to console me for a few more minutes, then said, "I guess we have to recognize that we've crossed a line, and we'll want to do it again. It's inevitable, so there's no use fighting it." She paused for a minute, then added, "You like being with me don't you?" I nodded. "But there is a line I'll never cross. You understand that too, don't you?"

I shook my head against her chest.

"Yes, Mark. There is a line."

I shook my head again, making sure to rub my cheeks across her tits. Mom laughed, pushing my head up, making me look at her.

"You brat. There is a line, and I won't cross it with you. Say you understand or I won't do this with you again."

I shook my head again, dipped down to kiss her breast, then said, "I love touching your legs, Mom, and I love kissing your other places even more."

Mom looked at me closely, assessing me, then laughed again. "You really are a brat."

I laughed back. "I know."

"Well, I won't let you."

"But I'll try."

Another pause.

"Go get me a beer. I need one."

I put my sweatpants back on and headed downstairs, realizing then that Mom knew all along that Dad and Brad had left at halftime and that we were alone.

Can you guess how shocked I was coming down the stairs to see Dad and Brad still watching the game?

"Coming down to the pub with us, son?" Dad asked as I reached the bottom of the stairs, "We're heading down as soon as the game's over."

"No," I choked out, darting into the kitchen, "I've got to talk to Mom."

"Grab us a couple more beers," Brad yelled.

When I came out with two beers for them and two for me and Mom, I explained that I wished I could go but I had to talk to Mom.

"Hey, we understand women," Brad guffawed. "Go take care of your mom, kid."

"Yeah," Dad laughed along with his friend, "take care of Mom."

That's exactly what I intend to do, I thought as I climbed the stairs for the second time that day, but not the way you think. I closed the door firmly behind me before walking to the bed. Mom watched me as she lay propped up on one elbow.

"They were downstairs the whole time?" she seemed genuinely surprised.

I handed her a beer, already opened. "I guess," I answered. "They're off to the pub after the game, said I should take care of you."

"Oh," she laughed, rolling onto her tummy, propped up on both elbows now, looking sideways at me as I lay down beside her on my left elbow, beer held in my right, eyes sliding down her back, over her red plaid skirt, and along her legs to her bare feet. "So, are you?" she asked.

"Am I what?" not really paying attention to what she was saying.

"Going to take care of me?" She turned her head, taking a small sip, watching me appreciate her form.

"After they're gone," I replied.

"What am I supposed to do until then?" Mom asked in a sexy, husky voice, shifting her feet apart to open her legs.

I took a drink too, a long one, and passed my beer to my left hand when I finished. I trailed my free hand down her back and up the rise of her buttocks, letting it rest on her soft flesh, fingers finding the groove under the plaid material. Gently, I moved my hand in a small circle, searching for the telltale ridge of her panties but finding no sign.

"Sip your beer," I suggested, "it's gotta last."

My brow furrowed as my hand moved, widening the arc of its search. Mom's knees bent as she drew her legs up to allow them to open wider.

"But you're not sipping yours."

I retrieved my hand to take my beer, took another big slug, and switched hands again, returning to fondle Mom's rump.

"I have other things to do," I argued, "you don't."

"Oh," Mom said in a teasing tone, "so I'm supposed to just lay her while you do your big important things." She lifted her hips, pressing her rump against my circling palm, settling down with legs open a little wider yet.

"That's the picture," I responded, teasing her backside, "your job is to just lay there and enjoy yourself."

I was now convinced that Mom was naked under the skirt but, looking around, I couldn't see her panties anywhere and it didn't make sense that she would toss them after laying down the law about not crossing the line.

I switched hands again, downed the rest of my beer, and tossed the empty to the floor. Mom sipped her beer as I did, looking very amused, even laughing at my eagerness to return my hand to renew my search.

"Lost something?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"No, no," I returned, my hand dipping down, pushing her skirt between her legs, finally encountering her panties, stretched across the bottom of her buttocks, leaving her cheeks bare above. She hadn't tossed them, she simply hadn't pulled them back up. I could feel myself lengthening as I realized she was open to play, even though she knew Dad and Brad were still downstairs watching the game.

Mom reached over to set her bottle down on the bedside table, then settled down in the pillows, hands folded below her chest, elbows by her sides. Her legs straightened but remained parted. I started pulling her skirt up, bunching it in my hand on her behind, then pulling it higher to pile it on her back, leaving her ass bare before me, her panties stretched tight across the back of her thighs.

"Make sure you pull my skirt down if you hear your Dad coming," Mom instructed.

I laid my hand across her cheeks, then slid my palm down, cupping her left cheek, sneaking my fingers between her panties and her ass, fingertip brushing across the bottom of her pussy. Pushing my hand forward, I slid it back up, fingertips trailing up her crack, stopping when my palm was once more resting on the crest of her left buttock, fingers poking in, wedged between her cheeks. I wiggled my fingers, searching for the crinkly button with my longest finger.

"Haven't you had enough for today?" Mom whispered, her face toward me.

"No, not nearly," I whispered back, hoarsely.

"I'm serious about the line, Mark."

I leaned forward, placed my left hand on Mom's right cheek and pressed it outward, opening her crack, revealing the little donut hidden there. I drooled some spit directly on target and quickly moved my long fingertip on top to spread it around.

"Why do you like that so much?" Mom asked, apparently not bothered by my anal attention.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, "I just do."

"You can play there all you want but it won't get you in where you want to go," Mom warned.

"I don't mind. Can I play around until they leave?" I continued circling my fingertip and dripping in another dollup of saliva to smooth its ride.

"It's neither here nor there as far as I'm concerned," Mom commented nonchalantly.

I surmised from her answer that this didn't do much for Mom, but from what I'd seen in porno movies by so-called ass masters, that could change if you took your time. I resolved to do just that. Play with her ass while stroking all around her pussy to build up a groundswell of horniness.

After a few more minutes went by, I suggested, "Can I lay on top of you? It wouldn't be crossing the line when you're facing away like this."

I was looking for confirmation, or at least no objection. Mom didn't say anything so I just kept sliding my left hand around her bottom while I continued working my finger around her little hole.

"Mom?"

"If you keep your pants on," she sighed.

"But I'd pull them up quick if I heard Dad coming." I argued.

"No."

"After? Can I do it after they leave?"

"We'll see," Mom's delayed response finally came.

I pulled my finger out and replaced it with my thumb, allowing my fingers to trail down her crack to her pussy slit. As I rubbed her crinkly backdoor with my thumb, I let my fingers brush back and forth across her pussy lips. I knew I was getting somewhere when her tummy suddenly pushed into the bed, cocking her ass up so more of her pussy could twist toward me.

As I twiddled her pussy lips I managed to work the first part of my thumb inside her ass. Mom's reactions belied her nonchalance about her ass since I seemed to be getting more reaction to my thumbwork than the manipulations of her pussy, but I had a sense she wouldn't admit it.

"I think they're going now, Mom," I whispered, pretending to hear something.

During the distraction, I slipped my left hand under her tummy and moved it down until I could slip my fingers between her pussy lips from above. Mom moaned and turned her face into the pillow. I was sure I had her now but that made me even more tense and afraid to screw things up.​