Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories: Mark's Story

Her ass lifted, whether from my fingering underneath or new appreciation for my asswork, I don't know. I slipped the long finger of my left hand fully inside her pussy and replaced my thumb with the long finger of my right, along with all the drool I could muster. Within a dozen thrusts, I accompanied both long fingers with both index fingers and began working each hole with two fingers.

Mom's hips were hunching now, her ass lifting up to meet my fingers in her rear and then forward into the mattress to shove the others as far inside her as she could. She was definitely moaning, a constant low hum modulating in tone.

I wouldn't have heard Dad now if he had walked in the bedroom door. I began nibbling Mom's ass and covering her cheeks with love bites. I don't know why I started doing this but Mom seemed to really like it, judging from the sounds she made.

I don't know when, but there as a point when I realized Mom had raised her hips, my pussy fingers following, and was holding her ass up to let my rear fingers more easily push in and out of her. She was definitely loving the ass stuff, her body couldn't lie. I started to work her ass more, using my pussy fingers to just hold her in place. I was kneeling beside her now, providing greater leverage for the assault on her behind, and leaned in to drool more saliva down her ass crack as needed.

I expected her to panic when I shifted to kneel behind her but she didn't. Maybe she wasn't aware of my move, I don't know. Using my left hand, I pushed my sweatpants over my ass and swung my arm around to lift them off my dick which was stabbing straight up. Grasping my tool, I spit on it for good measure, pulled my fingers out of Mom to a desperate sounding 'ohhhh', lined up, and nudged it against her now yawning hole. My cock head slipped almost completely inside her, requiring only a slight push to pop in.

"Ohhhhhhhhhuuuhhhhhhhhh," Mom moaned loudly.

"Unnnnggghhhhhhhh," she cried as I pushed all the way in, slowly, until my legs met hers.

I hoped to god my Dad had really left because there was no way in hell I could pull out now.

Out, I dragged my cock back, then the slow shove back in again.

"Ohhhhhhhhhuuuhhhhhhhhh," she moaned as I pulled out, and "Unnnnggghhhhhhhh," she grunted as I pushed back in. Over and over and over.

My hands were gripping the fleshiest part of her hips, holding her as I dragged my cock out and pulling her back as I drove it forward. I was getting carried away by the anarchy of her moans, pushing and pulling faster and faster as my cock slid through her forbidden ring, abandoning my movements to simple reactions to her sounds.

"Yeah," I grunted, "do you like that? Huh?"

I repeated that every thirty seconds or so, putting a little more ummphh into each thrust, making a point, delerious in the thrill of fucking her ass. I leaned heavily into her, collapsing her flat onto the bed, digging my cock in and pulled her head up to gasp in her ear.

"Do you like it? ... In your ass? ... Do you? ... Huh?"

My toes were digging in the mattress as I tried to leverage my cock farther and farther into her and, finally, to just hold myself in as I discharged jet after searing jet of hot cum between her cheeks, gasping my heart out.

We lay still.

I raised myself up on my knees and pulled my still hard cock out, white goo dripping down in a long string to her open hole which was filled with the same stuff. Fascinated, I spread her cheeks and pushed my cock back in, just inside, before pulling out again. Mom moaned, a desperate, needy moan, making my softening cock harden again. She hadn't come and she needed more. I pushed in an out, pausing to enjoy the sounds I pulled from her throat and the pop of her asshole as it released my cock.

In, out, pause ... back in.

Gosh, how she seemed to love this slow ass fucking, like a steam train slowly gaining speed as it leaves the station, chug ... chug ... chug.

In and out faster now, but pausing for the same time to listen to the obligatory moan and sucking sound as my cock popped out of her ass. Back in but not far, getting a grunt now on the poke inside. Lovely, lovely. Cock fully hard again, messy with my own cum lubricating her ass, Mom lifting up trying to get it inside her sooner.

Staying still now as Mom fucked her own ass on my cock, thrusting back, keeping herself impaled on my pole, obviously loving it, loving my cock in her ass. She was really going now, leaping up from the mattress, shoving herself frantically back as she neared her orgasm, finally reaching it, yelling out loud and pushing with her arms to hold herself against my hips, wriggling her ass all over to ream herself with my hardness. I pulled back when she collapsed on the bed, holding my cock tip just at her entrance, rubbing it back and forth across her hole until I came again, releasing a steady flow of white cream, filling her little hole and her crack.

Laying heavily on her back I whispered in her ear, "That's the new line Mom."

Mom was silent. There was no other response except for her heavy breathing. My cock lay embedded in the crack of her sticky bum. I was in no hurry to move.

Epilogue

My life was a paradise after that day. Mom regularly asked me to massage her tired feet when she came home from work. She loved to tease me with looks up her skirt, usually introducing a new pair of panties. Flowered cotton jobs, thin thongs, lacy black and red panties, a pair of lewd crotchless panties, and of course, none at all. If the noise of a game suddenly rose, indicating an interesting play, Mom would lift her foot onto my crotch and rub her heel around on my cock. She really was merciless.

But my days of masturbating while I reviewed the night's teasing were over. When she was ready, Mom would get up and disappear, sometimes upstairs to her or my room, and sometimes downstairs to the laundry room or the guest room, waiting for me to join her.

Once, she only made it to the kitchen. She was waiting there near the door to the basement stairs when I came in, fell on my knees in the center of the room and leaned my head back. Wild eyed, she walked slowly toward me in her bare feet, swishing her loose skirt from side to side, lifting it in her final approach and dropping it over my head just as her wet pussy found my mouth and her hands the back of my head.

When I ate her like that I was always rewarded by more than a blowjob. That night she came to my bed and, though I'd tried hard to wait knowing she would come, she still had to wake me with her mouth. She turned easily onto her back when I could no longer lay still and twisted on top of her, needing to assert my male control. She moaned as I shoved it into her mouth and started thrusting, soon generating the wet sounds of a nasty face fuck.

Mom had left my bedside lamp on, knowing how much I loved watching my hard cock slide in and out of her mouth, the alternating hollowing and bulging of her cheek, and best of all, the sight of my cum falling on her face, spurting, dribbling, sometimes hanging from my cock until I pulled back far enough for it to snap back on her face.

She didn't often let me do that. It was a special treat. But when she did, she never hurried me. She always let me enjoy the sight of her face covered in my jizz and waited for me to get a cloth to clean her. And then sometimes, as she did this night like I knew she would, she'd turn over with herface in the pillow and raise her ass toward me, waiting.

She knew I would be ready even though she'd just sucked me dry. The sight of her raised ass and open legs were irresistible and would raise the staff of a man much older than me even so soon after such a fulfilling facial dump. And that's why Mom's ass would already be greased and ready. All I had to do was guide my cock to that beckoning cave and push, and push, filling her dark, resistant tunnel that would struggle so hard to keep me out yet so suddenly welcome me in a moaning, enveloping hug.

I loved that sound, the sound of first entry, her acknowledgement of my swelling, filling pleasure, her tacit approval of a forced entry into a place not designed to receive anything from outside, let alone her son's cock. But I had no choice, for she would block the only alternative destination. Mom's fingers would appear from her tummy and slither up to cover the one treasure I desired more than anything else and which she still denied me, her wonderful, maternal pussy.

Disappointed, I would lose myself in her ass, yet I never treated it as a consolation prize. How many teenagers were awarded such gifts? I had been handed her mouth and ass, probably what any other guy my age would consider the best prizes of all, but I wanted Mom's pussy.

I dreamed about it almost every waking moment. I was so familiar with its sight and smell, the texture of its internal channel, the slippery feel of its walls to both finger and tongue and where all the really sensitive parts were, and I even knew the location of almost every little hair on the outside. But my cock was totally ignorant about her cunt. It was my overarching ambition to possess that flower.

I tried bringing arousing movies home for us to watch when Dad wasn't home, and when that didn't work, I tried withholding my oral treats but I could never outlast her. A few shots of her open skirt and I was done. The one time I was able to hold out, when I refused to touch her feet or even look up the open skirt she offered, she left in a huff only to appear a few minutes later from the kitchen, unwrapping something as she walked slowly back to the couch.

Sitting back against the arm of the couch, she pretended to read the magazine resting in her lap against the skirt that covered her knees but, unseen from Dad's perspective, not her open legs. She ignored me except for a rare glance and smile as she sucked and licked a root beer popsicle. She slid it slowly into her mouth and withdrew with a prolonged, wet suck, opening her mouth to circle her tongue around the end before plunging it quickly into her mouth, deep. Then the coy smile and the seductive flash of her eyes.

"Oh, did you want one, honey? I think there's one left."

She beckoned me to follow her into the kitchen. By the time I got there, she was on her knees in the center of the room, waiting. I walked quickly to her, not slowly the way she'd approached me, unlimbering my hard cock on the way and shoving it into her mouth without delay, frantically thrusting, almost coming as I felt the cold shock of her slick brown tongue. I fucked her mouth for less than a minute before filling her throat, my whole body going rigid before slumping to the floor to join her.

"Don't try to play out of your league, sweetie." Mom's arm circled my shoulders, then slid down to pull my sweatpants up to cover my soft cock. She kissed me gently, then whispered, "I want to feel that behind me tonight." She stood and smiled down at me. "Just accept things the way they are, the way they have to be."

A year went by. Mom and I still had regular sex, oral and anal, though not as often. We had settled into a comfortable routine throughout that year and would have continued forever. I had no reason to complain but I couldn't shed the desire to re-enter my mother's womb.

Then I brought Jenny home.

Jenny was a sweet girl I had met at a local hangout that specialized in the blues, a world in which I loved to immerse myself. Jenny was new and different. She was attracted to me because, she said, there was something unusually intriguing about me and she was keen to find out exactly what it was. Whatever it was, no one else could sense it, especially girls as attractive as Jenny. None of them had ever caught a whiff as far as I could tell.

Anyway, as you probably know me well enough to know by now, I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Jenny and I had sex the very first night we met, in her small apartment. For a person who had all the sex he wanted on a daily basis, I was starved for pussy, and it was a wonderful evening. I'd tell you more but this is a forum for relationships with mothers, so let's put that story aside for now.

Jenny and I started screwing several times a week. Despite my youthful vigor, my attentions to mother dropped off noticeably. Mom thought I was up to my old game of trying to get her horny enough to succumb to my womb desires and reminded me one night that a starvation diet would harm me more than her. After a while, knowing that I was just a man, I think she began to have suspicions about why I wasn't 'losing any weight'.

On the other side, Jenny was ferociously persistent in her quest to discover what was especially unique about me. Unfortunately, one night in the throes of passion, I shouted out my lover's name as I unloaded a particularly large and volatile wad of spunk. Except I didn't yell 'Jenny'. And I didn't yell 'Carol'.

I yelled 'Mom'.

The stiffness in Jenny's body, normally pliant and comforting, alerted me that something was wrong while I lay upon her recuperating after disposing of my load. What? Had I left her hanging? No, I had said something when I came. What? What did I say?

"Mom?" Jenny asked. "You yelled 'Mom' when you were coming in me?" Jenny's voice was rising, not angry, but surprised, even incredulous. She shoved me off to the side and rolled over, half on top of me, her face close to mine.

"Mom?"

My mind was reeling. I'd said 'Mom'? You dumb dork, stupid dipshit, I cursed myself.

"No," I denied it. "I said 'Man'. That was fucking incredible man."

Jenny dismissed my lame attempt to cover up.

"You said 'Mom'." She nodded in affirmation of her conclusion, convincing herself that she had indeed heard what she thought, seeing something in my face -- fear? -- that confirmed it.

"So that's it. You're got a thing for your mother." Jenny's face assumed the triumphant expression of one who has solved a difficult problem, finally found the elusive missing piece to a perplexing puzzle.

Again, my face gave something away.

"No, that's not it." She paused, her eyes searing into mine. "No. No way. You're kidding. You're not ... You are. You're fucking your Mom!" Her eyes were wide. "I don't believe it. That's it. You're fucking your Mom!"

Jenny's face broke out into a huge smile. I shook my head but words failed me.

"Don't even try it," she said. "I can see it in your face. I knew there was something weird about you. Something really different. Wow. You're fucking your Mom. Man you read about it but I've never met anybody who's actually done it. Wow!"

There was no way I could convince Jenny she was wrong. It was all in my face. I denied it but of course, she wheedled the story out of me, about how it all started, how we'd done everything except that one thing. She had slithered up on top of me by that time and was teasing me, hovering her pussy over my resurrected cock, dipping her slit down to briefly envelop my head, until I spilled the entire story. I gasped out the details while she slowly pushed and pulled her sheath up and down my full length until I came again, insisting that I yell 'Mom' with the first burst.

"I have to meet her," she said afterwards, quietly, with dreaded finality.

She promised not to let on.

Mom exhibited that same satisfied look, that knowing smile when she first met Jenny, as if she'd known all along why our sexual activity had diminished.

"She's beautiful," she said as I helped her prepare some drinks and snacks in the kitchen. "I can't believe you've done anything at all with that at your disposal." Mom looked out the window into the back yard where Jenny was sitting in a lawn chair talking to Dad.

"She's so pretty and petite, and those mysterious, Chinese eyes are devastating," Mom continued.

Yes. Jenny was very pretty. Was Mom surprised that I'd managed such a catch? Was she jealous? I couldn't detect anything in her tone or mannerism to suggest she was.

"And so well-endowed for such a slim girl," Mom laughed, looking at me. "Or had you noticed."

I grinned. "Come on, Mom." I led the way outside with a tray full of drinks.

We spent the afternoon outside in the sun and had an early barbecue. Brad dropped by to pick Dad up on the way to the pub. There was another big game on. We walked inside when they left, bringing the dishes with us. While we were cleaning up in the kitchen, Jenny shocked me with her betrayal of my trust.

"So," Jenny said, as if preparing to say something important. "Mark tells me you love having your feet massaged."

Mom dropped the cutlery she was about to put into the dishwasher. My mouth dropped open.

As Mom retrieved the fallen forks, Jenny went on, "Did Mark tell you that I studied massage?"

"No," Mom replied, momentarily flustered but recovering quickly with only the briefest glance my way. "He didn't."

"Mark," Jenny admonished me with an annoyed glance before turning back to face Mom. "I'd love it if you'd let me give you a massage. You've been so nice, it would be the least I could do."

Mom hesitated, unsure.

"Please?" Jenny asked, eyes indicating that 'no' wouldn't be accepted.

"Well...," Mom said.

"That's great." Jenny took Mom's hand, leading her out of the kitchen.

In the living room, Mom started toward the couch but Jenny held her back.

"Is there somewhere you can lay down?" she asked. "My massages are very relaxing."

"Well, there's my bed ..." Mom replied, uncertainly.

"That would be perfect," Jenny responded quickly.

Reluctantly, Mom led us upstairs.

Once in Mom's room, Jenny instructed me to sit cross-legged at the top of the bed and encouraged Mom to lay on her back with her head resting in my lap.

"Close your eyes," she told Mom, and then to me, "Stroke her face and forehead, very gently."

Jenny went into the bedroom and returned a minute later with a face cloth soaked in hot water. She sat on the end of the bed and removed Mom's shoes, then sat cross-legged under her feet. Lifting one foot at a time, she washed Mom's feet, checking to see if I was stroking Mom's forehead and face properly, then returning to concentrate on Mom, apparently satisfied.

As soon as Mom's feet were clean, Jenny began her massage. It wasn't long before Mom was responding to Jenny's superior craftsmanship and there was no surprised reaction when her expert fingers started stroking up Mom's legs and kneading her calf muscles, just murmured appreciation.

Watching Jenny stroke Mom's legs was a rare lesson in how to touch a woman. My fumbling had been directed at maneuvering Mom's legs so I could see through them to her thighs and panties but Jenny was focused on Mom's flesh and the difference was audible in Mom's reaction and visible in the expressions on her face.

Jenny shifted forward, bringing Mom's feet nearer as she kept them in her lap, raising her legs and bending her knees in adjustment, allowing her to concentrate on Mom's upper calves and then the hollow behind her knees. She took much longer to move to Mom's thighs but when she did she calmly set Mom's feet to the side of her own legs and casually brushed Mom's skirt back, causing it to slide down as her other hand slowly slid underneath along the soft swelling curve to her buttocks.

Jenny spent even longer on Mom's thighs. Eventually, she was tantalizingly trailing her fingertips all around Mom's upper thighs, concentrating on the area around Mom's panties. Twice she had pushed Mom's skirt out of the way, and finally she just pulled it right up, laying the hem across Mom's tummy, exposing all of her panties and her sexy belly button too.

Jenny never touched Mom's panties but she traced their line so closely it was hard to tell she hadn't. The front of Mom's panties were full, puffed up and ready. Jenny had moved closer as she worked, forcing Mom's knees apart until the thin yellow cotton panties couldn't hide the swollen, vulnerable pussy underneath, open and ready.​