Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories: William's Story

My father's name is Bill and mine is William. That's right, William. Rather than being Bill Junior, I insisted on William after turning thirteen. Before that everyone called me Billy or, if my father was present, Junior. I think the choice made me grow up with more poise and maturity than most of my peers. After the teasing in that first year, being referred to as William just demanded more deference somehow and I learned to carry a certain quiet authority in my mannerism.

My mother's name is Linda. Bill and Linda were a popular couple in their younger days, hosting a lot of parties when my sister and I were growing up. But eventually the parties declined in frequency, attracted fewer new people, and slowly petered out. Still, it was a few years before my sister managed to turn the large party room in the basement into her private domain. The shift was more rapid for me, over my sister's objections, when she left for college. The only compromise I had to make was to store some of her stuff off to one end of the room but that wasn't such a big deal. After she left, I threw a tarp over it and painted it with a can of black spray paint, the dominant color in my new decor.

Dad was nearing the end of his career but rather than winding down that meant he was required to handle increasingly important issues for his company. He was away a lot but was well compensated, allowing my mother to retire, even though she was fourteen years his junior at only 46 years old (Mom was my father's second marriage, he her first). My father did slow down on the home front. His work was taxing and he simply didn't have extra energy to expend when he was home. He had always been a workaholic, so it just wasn't in his nature to lower his commitment to work near the end of his career; he needed to go out with at least one more achievement under his belt.

That left Mom alone while Dad was traveling, or even when he was home. She had long ago stopped accompanying Dad on his business trips since he worked even more on his trips than he did at home. When she had gone she was just bored and alone in strange cities, or stuck with another corporate wife who felt equally saddled. It was worse for Mom after my sister left because that's who she talked with when Dad was gone. Most of her friends were still working hard on their careers. Mom had never really been a career woman, being happy to leave work while my sister and I were growing up, and reluctant to return when we started school. Still, Mom was bored after quitting work.

She started coming down to visit me in the dungeon I had transformed my sister's room into, or had ruined according to my sister after Mom told her what I'd done. I have to say, I considered it quite an annoyance at first, but I realized that Mom was going through a difficult period of her life. She had only been 'retired' a few months, enough time to be bored silly but not sufficient to adopt new interests. So Mom would wander downstairs to visit me almost any time day or night. She had a hard time sleeping now and knew I was a night owl, so she would often knock quite late at night if dim light showed under the door, and eventually she just tapped a warning knock and then walked right in.

Now, I know you're thinking she caught me masturbating, but that didn't happen. Mom just became comfortable wandering in to hang out with me, and I with her being there. In a way it was cool. Mom and I got to know each other as people, well enough for her to be comfortable lying on my bed or in the old chair, sometimes without even talking while I played a computer game and she read a book. She just liked being near someone and I grew to prefer having her around to being alone.

Of course, when Mom visited me later at night, she was usually wearing her nightgown, robe and slippers rather than her typical day fare of blouse and slacks or skirt. I didn't really pay any attention to this at first until the thought crossed my mind one evening when Mom came down to visit even though Dad was home. Mom and Dad never got 'together' at night. Now, I know they used to because I had heard them when I was younger and my sister mentioned how noisy they were after she first moved downstairs. Their room was right above this one and unmistakable sounds floated down the heat vents but my sister only let me sneak down to listen once.

When that memory resurfaced in my mind, I couldn't help thinking about it more and more. They weren't doing it anymore? Yeah, my Dad was getting old, seemingly stressed all the time, and distracted, but my Mom looked younger than her age by a few years. She couldn't have lost interest in sex yet, I thought, not looking the way she did. I mean, she wasn't a raving beauty but she was at least as good looking as Julianne Moore. Still, I was positive that my mom wasn't involved with anybody, and wouldn't be. She was just going through a difficult time. I felt a tremendous softness toward her.

Of course, that didn't stop me from appreciating her form. After all, I was eighteen. As my eyes roamed over her, lying across the end of my bed reading a pocket book, I found myself wishing it was during the day when she would have been wearing a skirt that would show her legs better. I tried to remember the shape of her legs but I had no memories stored there for reference; I simply hadn't logged that kind of information about my mother.

Feigning interest in my laptop (I was keeping up with friends on facebook) I let my eyes glance furtively over Mom's upper body since her legs were wrapped in her full length robe. I had better fortune here because her robe had worked loose and opened enough for me to see the nightdress underneath. I found myself wishing I could see her in just the nightdress. It was a shimmery looking blue material, edged in a white lace border about an inch wide that let me see her skin through the tiny holes in the lace. That was the second time in my life that I felt my cock stir in response to my mom, the first being that time I heard her and Dad at the cost of having my sister ridicule me for getting a boner listening to my own mother getting fucked.

I felt this horrible guilt but at the same time a thrill shot through me, spreading from the tip of my swelling member and through to my loins. My eyes traveled higher, over the curve of her breasts as they swelled above the neckline of her nightdress because of the pressure on them from the way she was lying. A few more inches and -- christ, her eyes were looking right at me. I blushed, too stunned to look away, my muscles incapable of responding and my brain similarly incapacitated.

Mom smiled, "Would you like me to make some hot chocolate?"

I nodded, at least I tried to: my neck muscles resisted my commands. Mom flipped her book over on the bed to save her place and slipped off the bed. The goofiest thought crossed through my mind, about how she would lecture me about how that wasn't good for the binding when I did that with my own books. When I finally managed to operate my head again, she was by the door.

"It's freezing in here," she commented, turning the dial on the thermostat before disappearing into the night.

What the fuck was going on with me? I had just got caught looking at my mother's cleavage. She had to know what I was looking at. How bloody embarrassing. Jesus! How could I face her? I should just pretend I was tired and fell asleep.

I closed my laptop and put it on the bedside table, slipped out of my t-shirt and jeans and under the covers, and closed my eyes. A moment later I sat up. This is stupid. She knows I'm a night owl. She'll know something's wrong. I should just brazen it out, act as if nothing happened. That's it. I was just about to get out of bed and back into my jeans when Mom appeared through the door again, carrying a tray with two huge mugs of hot chocolate, some cookies and cheese.

"Hey, lazybones. What are you doing in bed already?"

"Oh, uh, I was feeling kind of tired."

"Tired? Really? I was about to see if you want to watch that new movie, the one you downloaded on your laptop. You're not really tired are you?"

Mom set the tray down on the table on the other side of my bed, picked up one of the mugs and handed it to me, then passed me the plate with the cookies on it.

"Come on," she said, "watch a movie with me."

"Ok, Mom."

I was relieved that my transgression seemed to be history. I set the plate of cookies beside me and turned to set my mug down and pick up my laptop. My nervousness returned with a bang when I turned back, placing the laptop on my lap. Mom was standing on the other side of the bed removing her robe. I quickly turned my face to my laptop, concentrating on firing it up, but my attention strained toward my peripheral vision, trying to see without looking. I felt more than saw her pull the covers back and slip into bed beside me, plump up the pillow to make herself comfortable before pulling the covers up and over her breasts, but not before I had a fleeting glimpse of bouncing mammaries. I was distinctly aware that she was dressed only in her nightdress, lying only a foot away from me.

Mom watched me start up the movie, then turned to get her own mug and the other plate with the chunks of cheese, setting it beside the cookie plate between us. We watched the movie for awhile but I was very tense and couldn't tell you what happened. Slowly, I began to relax.

"Drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold, honey," Mom's voice broke through to me.

Looking down, I realized I was still holding an almost full mug and Mom's was half gone. I immediately raised it to my lips and took a big gulp.

Mom picked up a cookie and handed it to me but I couldn't take it because I was holding the mug and the laptop still on my lap, so she held the cookie to my lips and pressed it in so I could take a bite.

"It's been a long time since I had to feed you," she laughed, holding the cookie a few inches away, waiting for me to finish chewing.

You might have thought her closeness would have made me even more nervous but it seemed to have the opposite effect. The familiarity relaxed me. I snapped my mouth open like Malcom McDowall in 'A Clockwork Orange' which Mom and I had watched a couple of weeks earlier upstairs.

Mom laughed, realizing the joke, and slipped the cookie in as per my silent demand. I chewed in an exaggerated fashion, took a sip of hot chocolate, and opened my mouth wide for more. We played that silly game until the cookie was gone.

"More?" Mom asked, holding the plate up to me.

I shook my head and she turned to set the plate down on the opposite table. I couldn't help turning to look at her back. The nightdress dipped down lower in the back than it did in the front, showing Mom's unblemished skin and a sexy groove running up the middle, tracing her spine. I felt myself stir again.

Mom picked up the cheese plate and set it on her lap, shifting closer to me, her legs almost touching mine. She picked up a finger of cheddar and nibbled on it until it was gone while we resumed watching the movie. She picked up another piece of cheddar and nibbled it, then turned to place it on my lips. I took a little bite without renewing the cookie game. Mom held her hand a few inches away, watching the screen, waiting. As soon as I finished chewing, she offered the cheese again, not even looking at me.

As I chewed, she took a small bit herself, and held it in front of her. I looked down while she was intent on the movie because I suddenly realized the covers had been lying in her lap since she had started feeding me the cookie so her arm could move. Though her arm now covered most of her breasts, parts were still visible. I admired their round, curvy shape and the way that even the tiniest movement jostled them about, and how wonderfully erotic that was. Perhaps noticing my attention, Mom raised the cheese to my lips again and I took another small bite. She returned it to her own mouth for another nibble, never taking her eyes off the movie while I glanced discreetly at her breasts.

I shifted my position, feigning discomfort just to shake the bed, and her breasts. I opened my mouth for another bite and Mom dutifully raised the cheese to my lips. I engulfed the whole thing in my mouth, including the tips of her fingers.

"Hey," she cried, laughing, "I guess I better feed you more often."

I watched as she picked up the last piece of cheese, enjoying the brief absence of her covering arm from the front of her breasts, allowing me an uninterrupted view of her cleavage, for the first time seeing how low the neckline of her nightdress actually plunged between those sexy pieces of human tissue. We shared a few small bites, as before. I'm sure I was enjoying it far more than Mom since she seemed oblivious to the tantalizing sexual overtones encompassing that mini meal. When the piece was short, though, Mom placed it to my lips gingerly. I gulped it in and her fingers too, closing my lips over them to tug the cheese away.

"Hey," she cried again, "you little bugger," laughing at my prank.

Mom pulled her fingers out and wiped them on the covers before returning to watch the movie. The way her breasts had moved when she laughed was intoxicating. They sagged enough to stretch down to her belly but had sufficient body not to get lost in her robe. As the movie progressed, Mom removed the plate from her lap and moved closer to me, twisting toward me to lie more on her right leg and laying her head on my left shoulder and chest. She wiggled about trying to find a comfortable position and this parted her nightdress, just enough that I could see the skin diving between her breasts, especially on the side of the one bulging out from being squished against my chest. Mom stretched her arm under my back, and laid her other hand on my stomach, completing her search for comfort.

Unfortunately, placing her arm on my stomach twisted Mom more toward me, blocking my view of her breasts. But the warmth of her body next to me, separated only by that thin material, more than compensated for this loss. I put my own arm on her shoulder and eventually began stroking it up to the side of her neck, and toying with her hair.

"Mmmmmm," Mom hugged me. When the pressure of her arm released, her right breast slipped down to my side, her left taking its place lying on my chest. I continued toying with her hair and stroking her neck, hoping for more things to happen. What, I didn't know, but we finished the movie like that. The only other thing that happened was the touch of Mom's feet on mine as she tried to warm them. I didn't find this particularly erotic until she curled her left insole around my leg and started sliding it slowly up and down. The movie ended shortly that, which is probably good because my erection was making it difficult to hold the computer steady and I was afraid Mom would be angry if she knew what lay underneath.

I was sorry to see Mom turn away and slip out from under the covers. I watched her get out of bed and turn to pick up her robe, raising it so she could slip her hands through the sleeves. I was elated when she paused and then lowered it, folding it over her forearm and holding it in front of her, below her breasts.

"Do you have other movies on there?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Show me what you've got in your movie folder," she said, putting her knee up to lean it on the bed.

I was evasive in my response, "We can play any DVD in here."

"I want to watch one of the movies you downloaded," she insisted.

I opened the folder, hoping I didn't have anything too embarrassing there. I couldn't remember because it had been a long time since I'd downloaded a movie, other than the one we'd just watched.

Mom crawled across the bed as I opened the folder and I turned the laptop slightly so she could see it better. Still, she had to lean forward to see, affording me a tremendous view of her breasts, jutting against her nightdress as their weight fell forward. I completely forgot to look at the list of movie files as my attention was riveted on her chest and the two nipples trying to poke their way through the nightdress.

I could almost feel the blood draining from my head in the rush to fill my cock. I felt faint. I finally realized that her nightdress sported a large gap because of her forward leaning position and I could see her left tit hanging off her chest, the smooth curve of the bottom as it protruded sending an electric tingle ripping through me.

"Oh, there's lots. What's this one about?" she asked, pointing at the screen.

"That's ... oh, that's ... uh ...," I stammered, starting to blush.

"Probably something you don't want to watch with your mother, right?" Mom laughed at me.

"Well, uh ...,"

"That's ok. Don't blush." Mom leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. "We'll just pick another one for tomorrow, but don't delete it, don't delete any of them. Promise?"

"I promise."

Mom tousled my hair and gave me another kiss on my cheek. Then she crawled off the bed, but off the end rather than the side. I had a nice long look at her bum, and a last look at her breasts as they stretched up against the material when she pulled her robe on.

"Nighty night," Mom said, like she used to when she tucked me in so long ago.

I dreamt a lot about Mom that night and the next day dragged on forever at school. I rushed home hoping to learn that Dad was off on another business trip, but no such luck. I hung around in my room, hoping Mom would come downstairs but she didn't so I went upstairs to watch some TV with her and Dad. After the movie and the late news, Mom and Dad went to bed. Sulking, I dragged my ass downstairs and went to bed. I couldn't help fiddling with myself and turned the light back on, dragging my laptop over to watch that movie Mom had picked out.

Most of the downloaded movies turned out to be porn. A few were action flicks, some war movies and westerns. I was just thinking about deleting some of them, and was trying to remember exactly which one Mom had picked out just in case she remembered, when I saw her out of the corner of my eye, padding silently toward me on bare feet. She was carrying a bottle of wine and one glass.

"Are you picking out a movie?" she asked as she neared the bed, stooping over to set bottle and glass on the bedside table beside me. She looked at the screen, still bent over, and opened her robe, preparing to peel it off her shoulders. She had on a nightie this time rather than a nightdress and it only covered her to her knees, showing her nice legs. It sported a diving neckline as well and I wondered if all Mom's night clothes were like that, chosen to excite my father in the old days. It had a similar peek-through lace border but I could also see her skin faintly beneath the material proper because it was so thin, especially the dark spots surrounding her nipples.

"Isn't it pretty," she asked.

I was stunned. I had been staring and hadn't realized she had stopped looking at the screen.

"It used to be one of Dad's favorites," she said.

Mom pulled the robe from her shoulders, slipped it off her arms and turned to throw it on the chair behind her. When she turned back, she pinched the hem mid-way down her thighs and pulled the material a couple of inches from her legs, then curtsied, legs held together demurely. Her sculptured thighs were stunning, especially since I hadn't seen them before. And aside from being shorter, the neckline was actually cut much deeper.

"Fun, isn't it?" her voice tinkled.

I watched closely as she bent to pour herself a glass of wine, enjoying the show.

"You can share with me, can't you?" she asked. "I don't think Dad would appreciate me encouraging you to drink. For such a partier," she added, "he's sure become a stick-in-the-mud."

Mom waltzed around the end of the bed, slid under the covers, and immediately cozied up to sit beside me, fluffing pillows to prop up behind her.

"Pass me the wine before you start."

I passed her the wine and asked her which movie.

"You pick," she replied, sipping her wine.

I chose 'Unforgiven' and started it.

"Can you pour me another glass, honey?" Mom asked, just as Clint and Morgan caught up to the kid.

I poured the glass and handed it to her.

"You can have some," she said

I took a drink.

"More," she said, "you have to catch up to me."

I downed the glass and turned to refill it.

"Oooohhhh, what a man," Mom teased, laughing.

After taking the glass, she said, "Let's watch something else."

I killed the movie. "Which one," I asked, nodding at the list.

"That one," she pointed, selecting the one she'd teased me about last night.

"Mom," I complained.

"Oh, come on. You're grown up now. Don't be a stick-in-the-mud like your Dad. Ooops," she cried, covering her mouth with her free hand, "I shouldn't talk so loud."

"Is Dad still awake?" I asked.

"I don't think so. Still we'd better be quiet. Start the movie."

It was a porn movie. It was pretty graphic right from the start, so I stopped it after a couple of minutes, feeling very awkward.

"Pretty gross, wasn't it," Mom said, though she didn't seem to be put out with me. "I guess you can't really tell until you download them, can you?"

I shook my head, grateful that she let it seem like an accident that I had downloaded such a graphic fuckfest.

"Let's try one of these," she pointed to a couple of titles. "They've got older women in them, don't they?"

I nodded.

"That's what Mature and MILF mean, isn't it?"

I nodded again.

"See, your Mom isn't a dinosaur."

Mom held the wine glass to my lips. I took a sip and then another when she held it there.

"No, wait. What's in this folder?"

Now, I didn't want to look in that folder, but I was stuck. I opened the folder titled 'ms'.

There were a dozen movies in the folder and it was immediately clear they were mom and son videos. They were all amateur. I mostly hadn't watched them having copied them from a buddy and losing interest once I found out they weren't about guys fucking their sisters. I couldn't very well explain that to Mom. I avoided looking at Mom but she wasn't looking at me anyway, apparently fascinated with the titles.

"This one," she said. "Play this one."

As I opened the file, Mom leaned across me, stretching to grab the wine bottle from the side table. Her breasts scraped on my chest, reminding me how little she was wearing. She placed the glass to my lips again before drawing back and I took a big gulp, draining half the glass. Mom laughed, sounding a little nervous herself, and drained the rest. She leaned forward to fill it again, pausing to let me have another sip. I took another large gulp and she sat back in the pillows to watch the movie which had now started.

It was clearly amateur quality. It just showed an older woman and a very young guy, my age, moving about in a kitchen aimlessly. However, whenever they passed near each other, he would touch her, her shoulder, her waist, her ass, the side of her tits, whatever was handy.

"Wow," Mom said. "She really is old enough to be his mother. I thought she would be just an actress acting older, but they look real."

I simply nodded, too freaked out to speak. Mom sipped her wine, watching as the young guy started to kiss the older woman, his mother I suppose, on her cheek, then her neck, finally pulling her around for a long bout of french kissing. Belatedly, the mother and son looked toward the kitchen door, implying someone was there they had to worry about, but that didn't stop him from working her back until she was pressed against the counter.

Mom drained her glass and handed it to me. I filled it and handed it back as she sat staring at the screen. She waved it off, so I drank it and put the glass down. The guy had her turtle neck pulled up to bare a large set of tits and was squeezing and rubbing them as he kissed her, once in a while leaning down to take one into his mouth.

I worked myself back in the pillows, scrunching down in the bed. As if on cue, Mom slid down and turned toward me into the position she had so enjoyably assumed last night with her arm behind my back. Her head was lying higher on my shoulder and she had it turned down more to face the screen.

I curled my hand around to stroke her shoulder just as the guy dropped to his knees in front of his mother, turned to look at the kitchen doorway again, then flipped her skirt up and dove underneath. Mom's arm tensed behind my back and she slid her other hand up to rest on my stomach, as she had the night before. We watched the guy's head move underneath the woman's knee length skirt. It was obvious what he was doing but the sounds removed any doubt. The woman's head was lolling back in ecstasy, eyes closed, her hands on his head to hold him in place and steer him where she wanted his mouth to be.

Mom's foot slid on top of my calf and then completely over, her heel pulling against my leg. I felt her press against my hip. Her heat was incredible, even through her panties. I could feel Mom's breathing increasing through the pressure of her breasts on my chest. I lengthened the stroke of my hand on her shoulder, pressing in to flick my fingers lightly up her neck and around to her throat, then back along her shoulder, dipping into the hollow below her clavicle, before sliding down her arm, dragging my fingers up the sensitive backside.

I did this the whole four minutes the guy was licking his mother but I didn't make my biggest move until he reappeared, stood, turned the woman around and pushed her forward over the counter, shoved his pants down, bent his knees, and straightened up in a bold surge between his mother's open legs. He started moving into her vigorously, right away.

On the outward stroke, I dragged the shoulder of Mom's nightie out and down over her upper arm, pushing it to her elbow without any reaction. Mom was enthralled by the action on the screen. On each stroke down Mom's arm, I stretched my fingers out, trying to drag the front of the nightie down to expose more of her breast. As it was, the nightie was now barely covering her left tit, its edge hanging just above her nipple.

Mom pressed harder against my hip as the speaker relayed the sound of the man's pelvis slapping against the backside of the woman, now leaning flat on the counter as his paced quickened to cum mode. It wouldn't be long now. What would Mom do when it finished, and she realized I'd pushed her nightie off her shoulder trying to bare her breast?

Both the man and the woman began to moan loudly. Here it comes, I thought. He had slowed but was bursting into her with long, hard lunges. Suddenly, his legs straightened, the muscles tensing with strain as he bulged his cock into her as deep as he could, lifting her feet right off the floor. He slumped against her, jerking into her every few seconds until they were finally still. Then they both fixed their clothes and began doing things in different parts of the kitchen, just before an older man with silver hair entered the room, speaking cheerily, both of them responding as little as possible.

"Wow," Mom said. "That was something."

"Sorry, Mom."

"Sorry? Don't be sorry, that was great. Is there more?" she asked, just as another scene started up with a different older woman and younger man.

"You don't have to watch this, Mom."

"I want to. It's interesting."

Mom settled in to the watch the next scene. The ramp up was much longer than the first, pull-you-in scene. The glances, flashes, voyeurism, touches and kisses were much more subtle, taking place in a number of places and over a longer period of screen life. It was much more realistic. I tried my darnedest to slip that nightie off her tit but couldn't manage it. It must have been glued on there. Just as it was about to get into the more explicit sexual activities, Mom turned her face up to me.

"Can you start this one over, honey? I want to watch the teasing part again."

I nodded and restarted the scene. Mom kissed my cheek, then laid her head back on my shoulder, watching me. Abruptly, she leaned forward and kissed me on my ear.

"Thank you, sweetie," she whispered, kissing me again. "I'm so glad you can be this comfortable with me, to share this with me." She kissed my ear again but this time it felt like she dipped her tongue in after finishing her kiss, just barely. It was very arousing. She turned back to the movie.

She watched the preliminary build up with the same intensity as she had the first time. Her pelvis was warm on my hip and I imagined that it felt damp, not just hot. I tickled her arm, neck and shoulder the whole time but I gave up on trying to get the nightie off her breast.

Just as the sex part was about to begin, Mom whispered as if sharing a secret with me, "Here comes the action."

She raised her head from my shoulder and curled her hand up to pinch her nightie between her fingers. Well, I couldn't get it off anyway I thought. At least she's pretending it's an accident and not giving me what for. She pulled the nightie, flapping it back and forth, breaking its clinging hold on her body to let cooler air in. I peeked when the nightie was lifted away from her breast, momentarily glimpsing it in its gloriously bare state without even a thin nightie-type bra. Mom let it go after a dozen flaps, allowing it to fall back onto her breast.

"Whew, this stuff is making me warm."

Mom sank back to rest on my chest and I resumed stroking her arm, shoulder and neck. Thankfully, and to my surprise, she hadn't pulled the nightie back onto her shoulder. While Mom concentrated on the movie, I was more interested in caressing her. I diverted my gaze to enjoy her charms since they might be covered up the next time she rearranged her nightie. The surprise I found there caused me to lurch against the laptop as my guy reacted before my brain could finish processing the information impinging on my retinas.

I hadn't tried to snag Mom's nightie but it had fallen slightly, enough for me to see the top part of her nipple. The material around the nipple was now loose, not tight like it had been when I was trying to dislodge it. Mom must have accidentally loosened it when she was flapping it around. Craning my neck so I could look over Mom's head, I saw that the sleeve of the nightie had slipped down to the underside of her elbow. Maybe I could move it down her forearm. If so, it would loosen on the front and might even slip down enough to show her whole nipple.

I stroked a few times the entire length from Mom's neck to her elbow, then returned just up to her shoulder. Focusing between her shoulder and elbow, my fingers caressed the back of her arm which I considered to be a very sensual area. Cautiously, I slid my hand past her elbow a couple of inches, enough to push the sleeve down her forearm another inch. Mom was still fascinated by the movie and didn't give any indication that she was paying attention to what I was doing. The sex on the screen was getting pretty intense but I was far more excited about Mom than the movie.

I managed to push the nightie along yet another inch but I couldn't reach farther than that. The nightie hadn't loosened any more around her breast, showing the same amount of nipple. Why didn't it just fall off? I was getting frustrated.

Then I had a brilliant idea: pull her arm out of the sleeve. Immediately, I slipped my hand down to cup her elbow and hugged Mom to me.

"Enjoying the movie?" I asked to distract her.

"Yes," Mom whispered, her voice low and excited.

Hearing her like that made me even more excited. I released the upward pressure on her elbow, loosening my hug, but managed to pull back on her arm. I craned my neck to see. It had moved! The nightie was now a third of the way down her forearm.

I pulled Mom's elbow up again, kissing the top of her head as I hugged her, "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, sweetie," Mom replied, kind of automatically, her attention still riveted on the laptop.

That was ok by me. I let her elbow fall and tried to pull her arm back even farther this time. Stretching to see over her head, I was delighted to find the nightie down to her wrist. Leaning the other way to check her front, I was disappointed to see no further progress there. What to do?

The second scene ended with a huge cum followed by intimate cuddling by mother and son. I thought they were going to start right way again since the mom kept playing with his large dick but then it faded out. I grasped Mom's forearm to discourage her from moving it back onto my stomach but there was no need. She seemed content to wait patiently for the next scene to start. Maybe she was more than happy for us to be lost in our own thoughts in this situation.

The new couple was a very attractive boy about my age and a similarly hot mom. I could physically feel Mom's concentration. She really seemed to like the slow build up, the first awareness by both mother and son followed by each one intentionally flirting but not acknowledging what was really going on. In this scene, the first overtly sexual act happened when the mom, sitting in her robe at the kitchen table reading a magazine and sipping coffee, asked her sleepy son who had just entered to pour her more coffee. She was holding the cup out for him to take it but he brought the coffee pot over to her.

She set the cup down while he poured the coffee slowly into the cup, glancing up to flash him a brief smile of thanks before looking down again at her magazine. But a look of shock crossed her face for an instant, and you could see her look down to check herself before her eyes moved on to the magazine. Her son's attention hadn't been on the coffee, he was looking down her front, exposed by her open robe and deeply cut, sexy nightie.

Of course, this happened slower than one might have expected in real life to make sure the audience caught on to the mom's quandary. The next move was clever. Although she had been drinking her coffee black, the mom asked her son to put some cream in for her, without raising her eyes. When the son turned to replace the coffee pot and get some cream from the fridge, which you could hear opening and closing, the mother slipped her non-coffee hand up and quickly pulled her nightie off and to the side of her right breast, and then slid her coffee hand over to cover the top of the cup. The son returned and immediately noticed her bare breast, indicated by a focus on his face followed by a close-up of her fine feminine specimen. He stood there, waiting to pour the cream but not saying anything, just staring at his mother's breast. Eventually, she removed her hand to allow him to pour the cream, but not until further close-ups showed how rigid her nipple had become. When the son left shortly after without having any breakfast, presumably to go wank himself as he clearly needed to -- they showed something large trying to poke through the front of his pajamas, and his mother noticing it as he walked by -- the mom's expression clearly indicated she was shocked by her own actions.

It wasn't lost on me that movie-mom had just bared her breast for her son by pulling her nightie off her breast, something I had been trying to do for half an hour, at least. Perhaps spurred into action by this, I slid Mom's arm right back out of the nightie and pulled her hand up to kiss it.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you too dear," Mom's reply was as distracted as the last time I'd told her that a few minutes ago, her attention now immersed in the next breakfast scene, presumably the next morning.

This time the son picked up his mom's cup as he walked by, filled it and added cream, then returned to set it down in front of her, asking if she minded if he read along because it looked interesting. The mom hadn't moved her nightie aside to bare her breast. The deed was already done. The mom nodded and the son stood ogling her dangling tit. He sat down after a while, continuing to stare at her, enjoying the sideways angle with its better appreciation of how much his mother's tit stuck out.

Carefully, I set Mom's hand down, moving it back into its original position resting on my stomach before I had slipped it out of her nightie. I tried to scrape the nightie forward in an attempt to dislodge it from her breast -- yes, the stubborn thing still clung there -- but without success. Nevertheless, Mom's hand was free of the nightie on her left side and, who knows, when she got up she might not realize it and I would see her tit hang out just like in the movie.

Then the son in the movie did something that is one of the reasons I'll never forget that movie. He put his finger on the magazine, tracing along as if he was reading, moving his finger slowly to the bottom of the page nearest him. His mother was supposedly reading the other page though the audience realized she was just looking the other way to let her son ogle her tit. But the bottom of the magazine had been pushed to the edge of the table, and her robe spilled over to block the bottom few lines of text on the son's page. When his finger traced down as far as he could see, he used that excuse to pull the lapel of her robe out of the way but his fingers caught the nightie as well and dragged it off her one covered breast. Close-ups showed both the mom and the son being aware that this was happening, but neither acted like they knew.

The son returned his finger to the page to resume tracing the text. A roof shot camera angle showed his finger approach the bottom of the page where it contacted the mother's bare breast, and stopped. A long moment followed, the camera remaining on the shot, before you could see the son's hand flip over so his knuckles were flat on the magazine and then slide under his mother's tit, his fingers curling up to close on it. The mom continued reading as if nothing was happening.

My courage once again buttressed by the make believe world, I moved my hand to Mom's upper arm, sliding it up and down, fingers curled around her biceps, gently squeezing and following the curve of her muscle. I changed to an open-handed rub, stretching my fingers out and, seemingly by accident, allowed my fingertips to catch Mom's nightie and knock it off her breast. I was ecstatic watching it fall from the height of her nipple to the floor of her tummy below. Her whole tit was bare to me now, just like in the movie, and, as in the movie, Mom acted like nothing had happened at all. The elation in my mind was only surpassed by the tingle that was running up and down my sperm tube, jolting it rigid into a spear under the laptop instead of a longbow.

On the screen, the fingers began to slowly knead the mom's breast. It was hard to tell at first if there really was movement, but intense scrutiny and a closeup confirmed it. Soon, there was no mistaking it. He was fondling her tit and she was letting him as if it wasn't happening though clearly she knew. How could I do that? How could I possibly get away with it? Mom would know. It wasn't reasonable to think that a movie could be replayed in real life. Or could it?

Of course Mom would know, but did that mean she had to acknowledge it? Couldn't she pretend it wasn't happening just like in the movie? She'd let me push her nightie to bare her tit and hadn't reacted at all. Did I really think she didn't know? Come on, you chickenshit, I thought, she put her tongue in your ear. You can feel her pussy on your leg, and it's hot. She wants you to do it but she can't let you know, and maybe she can't admit it if you do, but she'll let you.​