Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories: William's Story

It all made sense. I could do it. But I was so scared. I don't think I'd been more scared to do something in all my life. I was still thinking about this and wondering how I would do it, just grab her? Then, without volition, my hand just slid forward off her arm and onto her tummy, surprising me. My hand wasn't on her bare skin, it was on the nightie I had just pushed off her breast. I was almost in shock at what I had done and suddenly felt that I must explain myself.

"Mom," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Shhhhh," Mom whispered, her eyes intent on the now active breast massage on the screen.

"I ..."

"Shhhhhh," Mom leaned forward, peering even more intently at the screen.

Her movement caused the bottom of her breast to now brush the edge of my hand, right at the crux of my thumb and fingers. Again, without thinking about what I was doing, without intending to act, I simply turned my hand to cup Mom's breast.

I had my answer. Mom didn't react at all. Her breath seemed to quicken and her hips pressed harder against my leg, but only for a few seconds. I was holding her breast and Mom was acting like we were just watching a movie. It was like I was suspended in a slice of time, Mom watching the video and me just holding her tit.

Then, as if regaining the ability to act, like Tom Hanks recovering from nearby explosions in Saving Private Ryan, I started to massage Mom's breast just like in the movie. I began the way the son had started, so you could almost not tell anything was happening, but I knew. I'm not sure if Mom did but I knew she would in a minute. I lagged behind the movie.

By the time the son moved his fingers up to pinch and flick his mother's nipple, even stroke its extended length, it was clear that I was manipulating Mom's breast, my fingers clutching its sides to pull it into my palm, then squeezing so I could watch her nipple push out, releasing, and starting over.

Mom loosed a small gasp, whether in reaction to my now overt massage, or because the son was now pinching the mom's nipple between thumb and forefinger and stretching it up and out over the kitchen table. Or maybe she was gasping in response to a future event because she could predict that in less than a minute my fingers would seek out her nipple for the same treatment. My cock straightened to breaking point under the laptop as Mom pressed herself harder against my leg.

Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, my fingers gradually slipped up to bracket Mom's nipple, once or twice, then more often, finally staying to tweak it, and sometimes pulling away only to bend it over and let it spring back. I really wanted to take it into my mouth. Why didn't that movie-kid start sucking his mom's tit? Could I get away with that? Would she let me go that far? No way. She couldn't pretend that wasn't happening.

Mom's panties suddenly mashed against my leg. I jerked my eyes up to the screen. The son had turned his mom toward him a little, sacrificing pretense, and taken both tits into his hands. His eyes were on her legs and the panties peeking out below her nightie. Manipulating her breasts, he pushed his knee between his mother's legs and pressed the left one aside to open her legs, bringing her panties into full view.

Immediately, I grasped Mom's nipple firmly tugged out, away from her breast, squeezing it in a rolling action between thumb and forefinger just like the guy in the movie had done. He had now dropped a hand and flipped her nightie up to her hips before returning to her breasts, his eyes and the close-ups now on the mom's panties.

Mom's head suddenly swung up and she kissed me, missing my cheek where I think she intended to kiss me and hitting my ear. After the brief kiss, her tongue swirled inside my ear and, just as quickly, she turned back to watch the movie.

Mom had leaned into me to turn her head up, pulling her breast away from my hand, but she hadn't twisted back to her original position and I now couldn't get hold of her tit since it was pressed against my chest. Without pausing or thinking, perhaps because of my desperate need to regain possession of the breast I had worked so hard to hold, I simply released the laptop and slid that hand between our chests and gripped her tit firmly, as if to stop it from slipping away. Again, there was no acknowledgement that I was doing anything wrong, and certainly no argument. I just renewed my breast massage with a fresh hand.

The laptop was rocking precariously on my boner and definitely would have fallen off my lap but Mom quickly moved her hand to grab it, holding it steady so she could watch, just in time to see the son drop his right hand from his mother's tit and let it fall to the kitchen chair between her legs, palm up. The camera zoomed in to show his hand lying like a large penis pointing to the apex of his mom's legs. The fingers twitched. Was that Mom that groaned, or the mom on the video?

Mesmerized myself, I didn't really pay attention as my left hand, now free, moved down Mom's back, outside her nightie but under the sheet, down that sexy groove in her spine to the small of her back, pressing her in toward my leg. The hand in the video spread its fingers which were close enough that their tips grazed the inside of his mom's thighs, on that softest part right at the edge of her panties.

It was Mom, or maybe both. Stronger than a soft moan, more of a groan.

I pulled Mom's nightie up, bunching it in that shallow dip at the base of her spine and then let my own fingers splay out, stretching down from where my palm rested at the top of her buttock, searching and finding the edge of her panties.

I was worried about lagging too far behind the video, so when the screen-fingers closed together and moved forward, touching and then sliding under the panties, I pushed mine down too, finding the gap between the waistband of the panties and the groove in Mom's ass, half way down her cheeks.

As Mom groaned along with the moans of the mom on the video, in time to the son's hand moving back and forth under the panties, I prized Mom's panties over her cheeks, pushing the waistband down to stretch across the bottom of her ass. I gently fondled her bare cheeks, sliding my hands around, and pressing her against me.

Belatedly thinking about her tit, I realized that I was simply holding her nipple in a gentle squeeze, gently tugging and rolling it between my fingers. Mom was breathing quickly and oscillating her hips against my leg. She was moaning softly in time with the woman on the video who was now groaning and rubbing herself on her son's hand, rocking hard enough that the chair legs scraping against the floor. The camera was switching between her sex consumed face and her son's hand vigorously frigging her shimmery green panties. It wasn't going to be long now, I thought.

That thought had barely bubbled into my consciousness when the mother came loudly on the screen, her hand finally directly acknowledging her son as she grasped his and held it hard to her pussy, hips bucking furiously against it. At the same time Mom began silently lunging against my leg and I felt a extra dampness as the muscles in her whole body went rigid for about thirty seconds before she relaxed and released a long gasp. She was still.

And so was I. I released her nipple and pulled my hand back and grabbed the laptop again, knowing my tit massaging was over. My other hand was lying awkwardly on top of her bare cheeks. I didn't know how to move it without calling attention to it so I just left it there.

Video-mom gazed lovingly at her son, reaching forward with one hand to grab the waistband of his pajamas and pulling it away from his tummy while her other hand slipped over his shaft, tugging it free and towards her. Slowly, she jacked him until she had worked his cock into a rigid pole. Her hand paused at the top, twisting her palm around the head before sliding down his cock, over and over, broken only by the need, on an upward stroke, to open her hand so she could spit in it before closing her fingers to work the saliva around his cockhead, and then down his long, stiff shaft.

Mom watched intently, as she had the rest of the video, and I also paid more attention than I had to the other parts. Though her breathing had almost returned to normal, it was still quicker than usual. Then she did an incredibly erotic thing.

Mom pulled her left hand from under her chest and spit into her palm, twice.

Her hand withdrew under the covers but I felt it a moment later grazing down the outside of my leg. It slipped onto the top of my thigh and moved higher onto my boxer shorts just under the back edge of the laptop. Her small, soft hand found the tip of my rigid stick, uncomfortably pressed between my legs and slid along its length, fingers scraping both sides until she was at my root, then wrapping around me in a tight grip. Slowly, she started tugging my swollen, cotton covered member until it sprang out between the fly of the boxers. I almost came when I felt the warm touch of Mom's fingers and the bare skin of her palm, slick with her spit. Mom slowly jacked my cock, pointed down to minimize the movement of the laptop while she watched the woman on the video do the same thing to her son.

I was surprised how long I lasted. Maybe it was Mom's expertise, keeping me from coming until it happened on the video, or maybe it was the almost painful way she held my hard cock straight down, periodically squeezing it head hard. I don't know, but when the video-son suddenly spurted all over his mom's tits, belly, panties and legs, it triggered my own reaction, helped along by Mom pinching and rubbing just under my head, making me sperm all down my legs.

"Are you going to join me again for breakfast tomorrow," the movie mom asked, smiling sweetly at her son.

"I can hardly wait," he replied, smiling back.

Mom, still lying on my chest, paraphrased her video counterpart, "Are we going to watch more movies tomorrow night?"

"I can hardly wait," I replied.

Mom turned her head up toward me, kissed my cheek, then swirled her warm, wet tongue in my ear.

"Neither can I," she whispered.

Mom sat up when I closed the laptop and turned to put it on the table. When I turned back, she was already stepping off the bed. She walked straight to the chair to retrieve her robe and leaned forward to pick it up, her dangling breast creating a magic silhouette for a brief moment. Holding the robe in her hand, one shoulder still free of her nightie, Mom walked toward the door and was gone, leaving me to wonder if all of that had really happened.
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If you think the next day dragged, you're right. I rushed home after school, taking all the flack about being a suck for going home to study instead of hanging out. I may as well have stuck with the guys because Mom acted as if last night hadn't happened. She was the same as always, cheery and friendly, just not sexy. I had expected sexual insinuations, some innuendo, something. I mean, she had wrapped her soft fingers around my cock and jacked me until I came all over my legs. But now there was no hint that anything had happened.

Normally, I would head to my room and Mom would follow me downstairs a few minutes later just to hang out. I mean, she was bored and starved for company. But today, I hung around, waiting for some sign from her that things were different between us now. I waited and watched and, nothing.

I was confused, disappointed, and disillusioned. Dad came home earlier than usual and immediately started reading some papers while watching, or rather listening, to the news while Mom got dinner ready. I hung around in the kitchen with Mom.

"Is something wrong, dear?" Mom asked.

"No," I replied. "Should there be?" I shot back, testily.

"No. I was just wondering why you're upstairs, that's all. You don't have to keep me company. I'll call you when dinner's ready."

I gave up and went down to my room. I fired up the laptop and checked out some of the mom/son movies I'd gotten from Jeremy. There were only 11 movies. I searched the internet for more but couldn't find anything as realistic as the ones I already had. I made a note to ask Jeremy where he'd got these ones. I decided to download the one decent one I'd found and set the laptop up on a small fold up table beside the bed. I had just finished when Mom called me for dinner.

Dad and Mom talked through dinner which was fine by me. Dad was leaving town in a few days which should have excited me beyond belief but now I wasn't sure it mattered. After dinner, Dad stayed to help Mom clean up but she shooed both of us out, saying she could do it faster herself.

When she joined us in the living room, Dad asked her if she wanted to watch a movie. Dances With Wolves was on. Great, at least three or four hours. I was about to make my exit when Dad insisted I stay and watch the movie with them. He hadn't seen much of me lately, he said, so I stayed.

Less than two hours into the movie, Dad fell asleep. Mom and I were on the couch but at opposite ends. Mom was still wearing the white blouse and black pants she'd been wearing all day. We watched for another ten minutes in silence. I felt awkward and unsatisfied. I wanted to take Mom into my arms but couldn't muster the confidence or courage to just slide over and do it, especially given the distance between us ever since I came home.

"I'd better wake Dad," Mom finally broke the silence. "He'll get a real bad crick sleeping in the chair like that."

Mom woke Dad and he shuffled off to bed. Mom followed but she turned around and told me to keep the TV on because she wanted to finish the movie. I didn't really want to stay to watch another hour or so of Kevin but felt obligated, and also hoped she would sit closer to me, so I waited.

Mom came downstairs about fifteen minutes later. She had changed out of her day clothes and was now covered by a full length robe. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch, as before.

"Thanks for staying, sweetie," she said. "I love this movie."

Mom tucked her feet up and we watched the movie. After another half hour, Mom turned to me and asked, "Should we watch a computer movie instead?"

My nerves were suddenly on edge. A 'computer movie'?

"Or do you want to finish this one?"

Mom waited patiently for my answer, her eyes soft and not demanding.

"Sure," I said. "We've seen this a million times."

"Ok," she said, getting up and starting toward the stairs.

I picked up the remote but Mom told me to just leave the movie on with the sound up, so I scrambled after her. She stopped in the kitchen and got a bottle of dry red wine from the wine stand on top of the fridge before heading to the stairs down to my room. I followed, my excitement already growing, literally.

Mom headed straight to the bed and set the wine and the glass down on my table. She looked at the computer on the little table and remarked, "That's a good idea. It'll be way easier to watch with it there." She tousled my hair, laughing. "Always thinking."

Mom opened the wine and poured a glass. Picking it up to take a sip, she said, "I'll turn around while you slip under the covers." She turned to face the door at the far end of the room. I didn't move, still digesting her meaning. "Quickly," she said.

Realizing she really did mean for me to get out of my jeans, I quickly doffed my shirt and socks and shucked my jeans. Wearing only my shorts, I slipped into bed.

"Ok, Mom."

Mom turned around, smiling. There was now a hint of that coquettish woman that had been in my room the last two nights. I was aroused even though she was covered from head to toe. Mom set her glass of wine down on the table.

"Your turn to avert your eyes," she laughed softly as she started to undo the belt on her robe, then suddenly added, "Oh, I guess you have to watch the computer, don't you?" Not waiting for a confirmation or denial from me, she said, "Ok, but keep your eyes on the screen."

Before I could say anything else, Mom turned more than half away so she wasn't looking at me and proceeded to undo her robe. I kept my eyes on her as she slowly slipped the robe off each shoulder in turn and then off her arms, tossing it on the big chair when she was done. Mom was wearing a dark green nightie, much the same color as the one the woman in the movie had worn when she bared her tit and let her son rub her panties. I couldn't see if Mom's panties were matching because the nightie dropped to the middle of her thighs. From her shoulders, the light material scooped low on her back to reveal a large expanse of soft, unblemished female skin.

I quickly jerked my eyes down to the laptop when Mom turned to the bedside table and leaned down to retrieve her wine, topping off the glass. My eyes were soon enough torn from the screen to marvel at the way Mom's breasts fell against yet were contained by that fragile material and bore witness to the fact that neither of the containees managed to escape through the wide gap that allowed their structure to be so clearly observed. That in itself was a miracle of confinement.

When mom straightened, I risked watching her covered breasts fall back against her chest, wishing they were bare yet loving the way the silky material outlined their shape so tantalizingly, leaving just enough to the imagination to magnetize any pair of male eyes. As she turned towards me, wine glass just touching her lips, I knew I had left it too late for my inspection to go unnoticed but I dragged my eyes down to the computer anyway.

"Is the movie ready? she asked in a soft, husky voice.

"Um, sure. Which one do you want to watch?"

Mom stepped closer, turning at the same time to stand beside the small fold-out table the laptop was sitting on and leaning down to read the screen better. I now had the same side view as when she was leaning over to pour her wine but closer and from a little behind. Although I couldn't see detail, I knew her tits were hanging down, free and unencumbered though covered, barely six inches from my face. She pointed to the screen with her finger, reading out the titles.

As her finger traced the last line, Mom said, "Why don't we just start working our way through them all?"

Not waiting for my reply, she stood and walked around the end of the bed to the far side, climbing up and walking on her knees until they pressed against my back. Leaning over me, she pointed to the screen again.

"Let's start with this one," she said, indicating the title just below the one we'd watched the night before.

I didn't do anything right away because my nervous system was still in the pandemonium released as soon as she leaned over me and let her hanging breasts brush over my rib cage.

"That one," she pointed again, thinking I hadn't seen her choice.

I double clicked and the movie player opened up on the screen. I clicked again to expand it to full screen mode. Mom was slipping under the covers behind me and piling up pillows so she could see over my head. As the movie started, she shimmied up close, pressing her womanly warmth against me.

Mom watched in silence. Her fascination with these movies was betrayed by the excitement in the breath passing my ear in ever shorter and more frequent puffs. As the movie continued, she nestled closer, breasts pressing harder into my back and a foot intertwining with my legs. Not a word was uttered through the entire first scene.

Mom's aroused breathing had made me hard so when she raised her hand to drink her wine, I took the opportunity to reach down to straighten myself from the tight constraints of my jockey shorts. What a relief! I had just pulled my hand back up when Mom's hand, still holding her empty wine glass, rested on my hip. She shook her glass without speaking. I took it.

"Do you want me to pour you some more?" I asked.

"No," she replied succinctly in the husky voice.

The next story started and, like the other movie, this second one built-up more slowly with a more attractive mom-son pair. As the story unfolded, Mom's foot began sliding up and down my lower legs and once in while she used it to leverage her hips closer to me. I could feel the warmth of her womanhood even through the thicker flesh of my ass. When the sexual touching started to get explicit, Mom's hand dropped from my hip, where it had remained since I'd taken her glass, and lightly stroked my stomach. God, she was making me so horny and I couldn't touch her, couldn't even see her.

In the movie, the vacationing family were lying on a remote beach and the son had been rubbing suntan lotion into the mother's back. She had just reached back to undo her top a moment earlier and the father, lying on the side opposite from the son, had just turned his head to face the other way. The son's hand trailed down the mom's back, lightly tracing a line across the top of her buttocks though her brief swimsuit didn't begin until halfway down her cheeks. Back and forth his fingers moved, again and again along the same line until, suddenly, they slowly broke southwards, dipping into the deepening crevice and dragging along until they were blocked by her swimsuit. There they stopped.

Mom's fingers had been stroking up to my chest and down around my stomach in a big oval while this was going on. When the son froze his hand in the mother's cheeks, Mom's hand stopped moving too, about a quarter of an inch above the tip of my cock, now sticking halfway out of my shorts.

The mother, who had been facing down the beach, turned to look at the back of her husband's head. She made no sound or otherwise gave any indication that she was bothered by her son's action, or even aware of it. As soon as her head settled, his fingers pushed lower, reaching under the swimsuit to snag the material, forcing it up the rising swell of her buttocks and then, as his fingers dug through her deepening crack, down the sharper slope to the backs of her legs. He pulled her suit down a little further until her whole ass was bare, quickly ran his hand across, pausing to cup each cheek, and then pushed his fingers between her legs, crooking them back the way they had come, and stopped again.

Mom's hand moved, just slightly, her soft skin sliding down over my cock until its lower edge met the elastic of my jockey shorts. Her fingers closed until they held my cock in a light grip.

The son's hand wormed its way deeper between his mother's legs, pushing up toward her bum until it could go no further. After a brief pause, it started to shake, just a tremor at first but soon vibrating so you could see the both back of the mother's thighs and her cheeks quivering.

Mom's hand squeezed me, hardly at all at first but as the movie son's hand shook more, Mom's worked harder and more frequently. When the son's hand was literally vibrating between the mother's legs, Mom's began to move up and down, jacking me in short strokes. Her breath rasped rapidly across my ear and she hunched her hips so tightly against my shorts I had to brace myself to avoid falling over the edge of the bed.

Abruptly, the father raised his head and turned back to face his wife. The son snapped his hand away to rest in the small of his mother's back as his father smiled at his wife and closed his eyes. Had he looked down while his head was still up he would have seen his wife's bare ass. Amazingly, the son immediately slid his hand back down, repeating his sweep over her buttocks and the pause to cup each cheek before diving between her legs, which his mother had parted to allow more room.

His hand was no longer quivering, it was moving in and out in short thrusts, seriously finger fucking the mother's pussy. Her knees pressed into the blanket, levering her thighs up and cocking her hips to twist her ass up toward her son's violating fingers. Mom gripped my cock harder.

The son's hand stopped, then suddenly jammed in hard, rocking his mother forward. He pulled out then jammed in again, out and then a rapid series of quick finger fucks, then a hard jam, holding it in hard enough to lift her hips up. The mother had turned her head to face away from her husband, gathered the blanket in her hand and pushed it into her mouth to silence her cries. Her son showed no mercy, continuing his hard thrusts with all fingers now jamming in and out of his mother's cunt despite the danger. If his father opened his eyes now, he wouldn't have to raise his head to see what was happening, not with his wife rocking back and forth like that.

But he didn't. The son increased the pace until the mother's legs suddenly went rigid, her knees lifting off the blanket, muscles tensed all the way to her toes that were dug into the sand to hold her ass up. When she collapsed to the blanket, the son calmly pulled her bikini bottoms up to cover her ass again. The scene ended with the sound of Spanish music playing and the mother and father walking down the beach, arms circled around each other's waists, as the son tagged along behind carrying the beach gear. The camera followed his eyes, zooming in on his mother's sexy bottom, to a small damp spot just visible between her legs, then up to catch the mom turning back to look at her son, her beautiful smile changing as she blew him a kiss.

Mom's grip on my cock was almost painful, but it still felt fantastic.

"Wow," Mom exclaimed. "Oh, the next one's starting already. Pause it, pause it." She released my cock and started to get up. "I want to lie in front now," she said, pulling at my arm to drag me out of the way.

Mom moved up on her knees and I slid toward the middle of the bed, taking my time so I could look at her breasts as she passed over me. She had opened her knees to straddle me as she went by but I didn't think to see if her panties matched her nightie until it was too late. I tried to pull the covers up while Mom was still wiggling about trying to get comfortable but she waved me off, saying she was way to hot already. I had to agree.

Finally settled, Mom asked me how to unpause the movie.

"Hit any key," I said, nestling up close to her.

During the next scene I gradually moved closer behind Mom, tickling her arm and moving my hand down to stroke her tummy, and managing to pull her nightie up over her hip to make a thrilling discovery. There were no panty straps around Mom's legs. None. Nada. Totally bare skin!

I must have grown another inch when the discovery exploded in my mind. A minute later I found it necessary to tug my shorts down a bit. I ended up pushing them down over my balls until they were stretched along the bottom of my buttocks just like the woman's panties had been in the movie. This left my erection free to wave around and I was faced with the difficulty of how to resume my position without my bare cock pressing against Mom's bare ass.

Seeing her just as focused on this scene as the last one — it was the same father, mother and son — I tried pressing up against her to see what would happen. After all, I'd already been there with half of myself sticking up above my shorts, maybe she wouldn't notice.

She didn't. At least, she didn't react.

I was in heaven. My hand was stroking Mom's tummy in a large circle brushing from just below her tits to her lower pelvis which was as low as I had the guts to go. It was about where her panties would have started if she was wearing any and, to top it off, my naked cock nudged between her bare ass cheeks! I dared to insert my thumb in her navel and used it as an anchor as I brushed my fingers over her tummy. As Mom became even more engrossed in the onscreen incestous action, I slid my hand up to cup her tits and then rubbed my palm across her nipples.

This time Mom did react: she moaned out loud. My hand happened to be in the middle of her tummy at the time so I was pretty sure it wasn't in reaction to anything I was doing. I looked at the screen. The camera view was just changing and all I could see was the father with two older people who appeared to be his parents, judging by the similarity between him and the older gentleman. They were sitting in a semi-circle in a patio fronting on a small pond, backs to a house further in the distance. The camera view changed again and, judging by Mom's heightened breathing, it was returning to the scene she had reacted to.

The mother was standing by a kitchen counter in front of an open door through which her husband and his parents were visible. She was putting drinks onto tray. Her son was standing behind her, one hand between her legs and up her skirt while the other massaged her breasts outside of her white blouse. He was kissing her neck while his hand did its work under her skirt. The mother was looking worriedly outside at her husband and his parents, clearly afraid they could look back at any time and see what was happening.

Obviously, they could have stepped to the side out of the line of sight through the door but, since this was a porn movie, they did no such thing. The mother looked more and more worried as the son pulled her blouse apart and squeezed her bare tits, working his hand more vigorously behind her. She looked relieved when he pulled his hand away, but disappointed too. The worried look returned when the son pulled her skirt up over her hips and changed to near panic when she felt his probing cock poking between her legs. Holding his rather long cock in his hand, the son rubbed it up and down between her thighs and the mother's face changed again, this time to an expression of pure horniness.

The husband turned his head to the side, as if to listen, and Mom moaned again. This must have been what I'd missed before, the husband turning his head just as the son first pushed his hand under his mother's skirt. There was a sudden bout of laughter from outside just as the son entered his mother and pushed his first thrust home, the mother mouthing a long "oooohhhhh" as she took his long cock inside her. The husband started rising out of his chair and Mom immediately moaned again. The son was ramping up to a very lusty effort and even this imminent danger didn't slow his illicit rear assault.

The mother's eyes were closed now as she concentrated on receiving her son's cock but the son kept his eyes on the father as he pounded his mother. The grandmother had put out a hand to stop the father but he was still half out of his chair. Mom moaned again. Was this a good time for me to try touching her down there?

Recognizing the danger he was in, sonny pulled his mother away from the counter, further back into the kitchen and away from the open door. She dropped, her hands grazing the floor, though her legs were still straight and wide apart as her son continued drilling her. The father stood and turned, walking toward the house. Mom moaned, and I slid my hand down over her bare pussy. The grandfather called out, and the father stopped and turned to listen to his own father while the son rammed furiously into his wife. Mom whimpered. I aligned my long finger with Mom's crevice and pushed it between her lips, forcing another satisfying whimper. Just as the father turned to continue his approach to the house, I slipped my cock between Mom's legs and started rocking against her ass. Mom was panting by the time the father approached the door, and stepped inside.

His son greeted him, just picking up the tray of drinks.

"What took you so long, everyone's thirsty," the father said.

"Oh, we had to wash some glasses," the mother explained, still working on something in the sink.

The father nodded, walking through the kitchen and down the hall toward the bathroom. The camera panned back to catch the son walking down the path, calling out to his grandparents and the mother, shoulders slumped, still standing in front of the sink, a milky rivulet of cum dribbling down the inside of her thigh, almost to her knee.

The scene ended. I stopped moving but left my hand and my cock where they were, hoping if I didn't make their presence obvious, they would be ignored. After a few long seconds, Mom spoke.

"Well, I guess I should go upstairs to bed." The words were disappointing but Mom didn't follow up with any move to go.

"There's one more scene left," I whispered, staying as still as I could, surprised that my tongue, thick as it was, could manufacture intelligible speech.

"I really should go. It's getting late."

"You should just stay and finish, Mom." I didn't say what she should finish, though it was me I had in mind. "Then we can watch a new one tomorrow night." I was whispering by her ear because I knew she liked her ear touched and kissed.

"I don't know, William ... I ...,"

"Shhhhh," I husked into her ear. "It's starting."

We both fell silent and watched as the last scene played out. As the back and forth banter and insinuation built up between a new mother and son, Mom's breathing became quiet and shallow and then shorter and more rapid, as did mine, blowing across her ear. My hands were still until I heard the first, barely audible moan. Glancing immediately at the screen, I saw that the instigation was again the nearby presence of the father. This time, the father had just left the pickup truck and was heading across a gravel parking lot into a country store and while he was treading toward the store his son had slipped his hand under his mother's skirt and was frigging her. When the father paused near the store door, as if he'd forgotten something, half turning back toward the truck, Mom moaned aloud.

I let my fingers move. Just a bit, kind of rocking between Mom's pussy lips. When the father turned back and up the two steps into the store, I began sliding my finger up and down in Mom's slit, matched by slow thrusts with my cock between her hot, damp thighs. When the father was in the store, waiting in line and then talking to the clerk, you could see the mom and son moving in the truck in the distance through the store window. The father never glanced that way but the director was clearly using the possibility to heighten the illicit nature of the scene.

When the father finished in the store and walked out the door Mom really started panting. I slipped my fingers inside her pussy and moved them around, in and out, in a small circle, rubbing her slick walls. She moaned. The father turned the corner, walked to the bathroom on the side of the building, and disappeared inside. The camera closed on the truck. The son pushed the mother onto her side, her head lying behind the steering wheel. Turning sideways himself, he unlimbered a long cock and pushed it into her from behind. I began frigging and fucking my cock through Mom's legs in time with the son's action. Mom was panting loudly now and hunching on my fingers. A few minutes later she actually cried out, clamped her legs tightly on my cock which was spewing liquid onto the sheets, and clutched my hand, pushing it harder into her pussy.

Slowly, we became still, catching our breath together, in silence. Several minutes passed and the movie ended. Several more minutes went by. I pulled my hand away and Mom grabbed it, pulling it until my arm circled her arm and breasts, holding it on top with my hand against the base of her throat.

"Well, it's getting late," Mom said. "I really should go up to bed now."

"Ok Mom. See you tomorrow."

"Dad's taking me out for brunch tomorrow. Do you want to come?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Why don't you come, sweetie?"

"I don't know. You and Dad probably want to be alone."

"We've been together a long time," Mom said. Teasingly, she added, "Anyway, a woman doesn't mind having two men around."

Mom blushed when she said that, perhaps realizing the implications of what she'd said. I spoke quickly, in part to distract her to reduce her embarrassment.

"I'll sleep on it. Can I tell you tomorrow?"

"Sure. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Mom slipped out of bed and grabbed her robe but unlike the night before she didn't linger to showcase her body. She walked quickly to the door, pulling the robe on as she went.

She was gone.

After I cleaned up and changed the sheets, I lay in bed thinking about what had happened. I thought long and hard about how sexy and, well, willing, Mom was in my bedroom but how she acted as if none of the past few nights had ever happened when we were upstairs. It had surprised me and now that I thought about it, it didn't jibe with the way she got excited every time the movie mothers and sons did something when the father was nearby and could catch them. The notion clearly turned her on, yet she wasn't the least bit sexy or flirtatious with me outside of my room. I fell asleep with Mom's voice ringing in my head, 'a woman doesn't mind having two men'.

I was up early but the kitchen was empty so I went upstairs to see if Mom was awake. I pushed their door, which wasn't quite closed, and peeked inside, calling out, "Mom? Dad?"

Mom was in front of her makeup dresser, the one with the round mirror in the middle and lots of little side drawers holding all her jewelry and makeup stuff. She was standing on one leg with the other kneeling on the edge of the bench seat, arms raised to fit an earring. She saw me poke my head in and nodded for me to come in.

Walking toward her, I let my eyes slide over her body, noting the slip she was wearing hid a light weight bra with matching panties underneath but her legs had not yet been covered by pantyhose or stockings. She had nice legs, at least the part visible from the knee down where the edge of her slip just touched the back of her calf. My eyes were drawn to the bottom of her raised foot which, surprisingly to me, caused a stir in my loins when the toes suddenly curled, tensing the muscles in Mom's lower leg.

Dad was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Dad?" I asked as I neared Mom, my eyes passing from her sexy leg to the white, mid-thigh length stockings draped carelessly, sensually, over one end of her makeup bureau.

"Sit," she said, nodding her head toward the bench seat.

I did as she said.

"In the bathroom," she nodded the other way as soon as I sat down, indicating the ensuite.

"Oh," I responded, turning my knees toward Mom. Looking in the mirror, I ran my eyes up her front until I reached her face which was tilted down, eyes regarding my reflection as she struggled with her earring. If she felt one way or another about me openly admiring her body, she didn't let on. I turned further toward her while she was still watching me and ran my eyes back down the real thing rather than the image, concentrating less on her jutting breasts than on the slight rise of her tummy and subsequent fall to the front of her slip-covered panties, the mound they suppressed still evident underneath. I turned back to regard the reflection and saw that Mom was still watching me, looking steadily into my eyes. I couldn't read her thoughts.

Just then, Dad came into the room asking Mom if she'd seen his good cufflinks.

"Oh, hi son," he said as he saw me sitting on the other side of Mom. "Are you coming?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead busying himself moving stuff around on his dresser, then started opening and closing drawers.

"Are you sure you haven't seen them?" he asked.

"No, I haven't seen them," Mom answered calmly, still looking into my eyes.

My thoughts from the night before suddenly welled up and flooded through me, generating a heat flush that spread out until my skin tingled. As if in slow motion, though unstoppable, my left hand lifted from my knee and moved toward Mom. I watched it as if it wasn't mine, wondering what this thing was doing. A drawer closed and after a pause, another slowly opened, dragging out on its rails. The hand was at the edge of the bench seat, on the far side of Mom's knee, between her legs. It pushed under the slip and turned, palm toward me, resting on the inside bulge of Mom's knee.​