Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories

We finally made it to the coffee table and Mom set the glasses down. Then she stood, and just stayed like that. I stood back a little, so I could keep admiring her ass, the narrowness of her waist and the flare of her hips.

"Do you like them?" she asked.

"What?" I feigned innocence.

"My new panties, of course." My cock stiffened at hearing her say panties. "They're the smallest, ... the coolest ... ones I could find without going to one of those thong things." I immediately pictured a thong dividing her pearish cheeks. My cock hardened even more.

"Do you like it too?" she asked.

"Like what?" I played the innocence thing again.

She was having none of it. "My ass, silly. I know you were looking at it. A woman can tell when she's being admired. Do guys your age like little asses too?"

"Yes, they do," I said, and added, "I sure do."

Mom laughed out loud. "Well, your father doesn't. He thinks its too skinny."

"He's crazy."

"You think so?"

"I sure do, Mom."

There was a pause. Nothing was said for a minute. Then Mom broke the silence.

"They're made of a special material that keeps you cool. Would you like to feel it?"

"Your panties?" I asked.

"Yes, the material. What were we just talking about?"

"Sure," I replied. I reached my hand down, cautiously stretching my finger tips out to touch the material of her panties. She pushed her ass back a little, pressing my fingers flat onto her panties and forming a cup to hold her right cheek in my palm. "Yeah," I said, "it feels silky, kind of slippery." I moved my hand around on her cheek, gently squeezing her little globe as if testing the panty material. I cupped her left cheek in my other hand and began gently kneading that globe as well.

"Don't get too naughty, Francis," Mom cautioned me. Ignoring her reproach, I continued to knead her flesh.

"You'd be even cooler in a thong, Mom."

"I doubt it, my butt's too skinny for a thong."

"No it's not. You're perfect for a thong. You'd cause accidents if you walked down the street in one."

Mom burst out laughing. "You're just trying to make me feel good. Men would laugh if they saw my skinny butt in a thong."

I leaned in over Mom's shoulder. "Trust me, Mom," I said, my voice thick, "You'd look awesome in a thong. Men would look, and they wouldn't laugh."

"Do you really think so? Do you think I'd look good in a thong?"

"Why don't you buy one tomorrow and try it on? See for yourself."

"Actually, I did," she confessed. "It's in my shopping bags," she tossed her head in the direction of the hallway.

"Go get it," I said, releasing her cheeks and patting her ass. I didn't say it like a request. Mom looked surprised, even a bit shocked, but she wasn't angry.

"No. I don't think so," she dashed my hopes.

"Well, you bought it. What are you going to do with it?"

"Oh, I'll probably just throw it away," she mused.

"No, don't do that," I protested.

"Why? Is there someone you'd like to give it to, to try it on for you?"

"No."

"Would you like me to wear it, then?" she teased.

As I started to nod my head, she went on, "For your father?" A quizzical expression formed on her face.

I shook my head no. "For you, then?" She smiled, the quizzical expression becoming more exaggerated. "You wouldn't want to see your own mother in thong?"

"Yes," I answered, my hopes rising again.

"Francis, you wicked, wicked boy," she teased me, having a laugh at my expense. I was too tense to laugh along with her and her face quickly sobered. "We'll see, then. Maybe I'll let you have a quick peek tomorrow or the next day."

She sat on the couch, and I sat on the other end, watching her. She swung her feet onto the couch, pulling her magazine up, obscuring her face and blocking my view of her see through bra. I shifted my gaze down to her legs and along her thighs to her panties. As I watched, she slowly opened her legs until I could look directly at the front of her panties. I could see through the material to her pussy underneath and the crevice dividing her pouting lips. I swear that once in a while she twisted her hips forward, accenting her pussy mound for me. She kept her legs open for me the whole time until it was near time for Dad to come home.

Finally, she dropped her magazine and said, "Let's go upstairs and change, Francis, before your father comes home."

Mom walked to the stairs, a slow sensuous walk that exaggerated the sway of her hips. My face was level with the jut of her buttocks as we slowly climbed the stairs. When we reached her room, she told me to wait there for a minute and disappeared inside. A moment later she reappeared wearing a robe loosely clutched to her chest. It splayed open under her breasts, widening as it crossed her hips, exposing a tuft of golden pubic hair. With her free hand, she held out her red bra and panties. "Here," she said, "keep these in your room for me. I don't think it would be good if your father saw them."

I whacked off more than once that night thinking about my mother and the highlights of that day, capped by the glimpse of her pubic hair and her choice for me to keep her bra and panties. I went to sleep dreaming about her wearing a thong for me.

The next day, Dad went in to the office late. He said he had a dinner meeting and would be home late, so he wasn't going in until noon. I could hardly wait for him to leave. The morning dragged on for an eternity. It was sweltering. Mom looked flushed and sweaty. I was boiling but didn't feel I could drop down to just my shorts with my Dad there. Finally, he left after a quick lunch. Mom gave him a kiss goodbye, wished him luck in his meeting, and went upstairs.

I waited impatiently for her to reappear but finally gave up and started to read my comics while sitting on the couch. I didn't hear her, but she was suddenly just standing there, barefoot in a white t-shirt which clearly showed two very stiff and long nipples poking up underneath. Her face was flushed and she was breathing in short, rapid breaths, as if excited about something. I think we'd both been tense waiting for Dad to leave, and were both a little wound up.

"When Dad left, it felt like a visitor had left," she said. "What a weird feeling."

"Yeah, I know," I replied. "It was uncomfortable, and now it's kind of like the way it should be."

"Yeah, weird," she said. She tugged down on her t-shirt, forcing it down so hard on her nipples I thought they would burst through. She arched her back and twisted from side to side. "But we're alone now," she said, coyly.

I didn't say anything. I just watched her.

"Would like to see something?" she asked, taking our little game further.

"Yes," I answered, my mouth dry.

She raised her hand behind her head, pulled on something and shook her head, her yellow blonde hair falling out about her shoulders. Then she lifted the bottom of her t-shirt up to the level of her hips, exposing a little red patch that covered her pussy.

I stared. "Mom, is that ..."

"You wanted me to wear it for you, didn't you?" she cut me off, dropping the t-shirt to hide the red patch.

I stood up and she turned away, walking to the middle of the room.

"But, I can't ..."

My voice trailed off as Mom pulled her t-shirt up with both hands at her sides. Her bare ass came into view, separated by a red strand of material that disappeared between her cheeks.

"Well, have a look, then, Mr. Impatient."

I stepped behind her. Her ass was essentially bare. I reached down to take possession of her cheeks.

"I don't think your father would approve of that, young man."

"I'm just checking the material."

Mom laughed. "Don't get too clever, Francis. I never said you could touch my bare ass."

"You didn't say I couldn't, either." Then, more submissively, "Let me, Mom. Just for a while. You look awesome, just like I said you would."

"Will you stop when I tell you? No arguments?"

"Yes, Mom. I'll stop right away." I continued kneading her cheeks, pulling them apart and squeezing them together again. Hanging my head over her shoulders, I looked at her nipples poking out her shirt. "Can I touch them too, Mom?"

Her voice was a little hoarse when she answered. "No, Francis. I don't think I can go that far."

"Please, Mom. You said they like it when I look at them. Let me touch them a little bit. I'll stop when you say," I whined, following the same path that succeeded in letting me fondle her ass.

She didn't answer. I released her cheeks and pushed my hands around to her tummy, then started sliding them up over her t-shirt toward her breasts. She watched them approach but didn't say a thing. My fingers moved over the swells of her small tits and then on to close on her long nipples. I brushed over them and back, pinched them softly through the material of her t-shirt, and tugged on them gently. Releasing, I flicked them again with my fingers, back and forth, many times like I was strumming chords on a guitar. Mom moaned. Surprisingly, I could feel them grow even more. They were already stiff and long. Groaning, I grasped them again, pinching and twisting, rolling them between my fingers, tugging. Again I released them and flicked them back and forth with my fingers, then grasped them again. Mom was moaning softly, constantly.

"You have fantastic tits," I whispered in her ear. I pushed my shorts into her cheeks.

"Oh Francis, that feels so good. It's been so long. He never touches them, anymore." She sounded as if she was about to cry.

"I'll touch them for you," I murmured in her ear. "I love touching them."

She let me continue fondling her tits. She didn't stop me until I whispered in her ear, "I want to suck them."

"No, Francis" she cried. She pulled away from me, walking back toward the couch.

I pursued her, getting my hands back on her tits.

"I can't let you do that, Francis," she protested, but she let me continue to manipulate her nipples.

I didn't mention sucking them again but I kept working her tits. After a moment I pushed her back onto the couch, sitting her down. Kneeling next to her, I pulled her feet up on either side of me and pushed her back onto the arm. Regaining my hold on her nipples, I pinched them between thumbs and forefingers. She lay back, eyes closed.

"I'm just going to look at them, Mom," I whispered. I started bunching the t-shirt up in my hands until her tits were bared to my eyes. I began kneading them, covering them with my hands, bending her nipples around in my palms. I pulled her t-shirt up and pushed it over her face, covering it. She became very excited, her breathing quick and harsh. I squeezed her little tits, forcing her long nipples to stand straight up. Leaning forward, I took one into my mouth and began to suck and swirl my tongue around it. She gasped loudly, over and over as I sucked.

"Ohhhhhhh, ohhhhhh, ohhhhhhh."

I sucked her tits, switching back and forth, pinching and flicking the nipple of the other with my fingers. I felt her legs come up and her feet cross over to rest on my back. Looking down between us, I could see her pelvis straining up, trying to come into contact with mine. She's really horny, I thought. Move now. Take her!

I pulled her up and swung her around, pushing her to the back of the couch, resting her on my upper thighs. Her shirt fell down around her neck and her eyes opened but I delicately pulled it up and over her face again, then dropped my head to suck her tits once more. When I heard her moaning, I looked again and saw her shirt moving in and out of her mouth with her rasping breath, like a speaker vibrating to deafening music. Moving my mouth back to her tits, I used my hands to push my shorts down. Keeping my mouth on her, I slipped my hands under her to grasp her ass. I found the thong and pulled it to the side over one cheek. Then I slid my hands up under the bottom of her thighs until I grasped the underside of her knees. Pushing her knees up high, I slid her up on the back of the couch, and pressed my pelvis in. Pulling my mouth off her tits, I dropped her down, guiding her until the head of my hard cock pushed against her pussy.

"No," she cried through the shirt covering her face. "No, Francis," she repeated.

My cock parted her lips.

"No," she cried again, but her body betrayed her. She moaned as my cock found little resistance from her wet pussy lips, digging into her an inch. I held her knees high and wide.

"No?" I asked.

"No," she gasped.

"No?" I asked again, pushing my cock into her another inch.

"No, oh, no, Francis." I pushed further in. "No, don't, baby, don't."

"Unnnngghhhh," she moaned as I pushed all the way in.

"Don't what, Mom?" I gasped.

"Don't fuck me," she gasped back.

"I won't, Mom," I said as I drew my cock back, and shoved it back in. "I won't fuck you," I said as I started thrusting into her.

We repeated this exchange over and over again, back and forth, "Don't fuck me" followed by "I won't" as our pace steadily increased and our moans grew ever louder. It wasn't really that long before I was really banging her and her gasps were one long continuous moan. I squirted my juice into her, my bare cock spewing my raw spunk.

I collapsed back on the couch, falling away from her as I slipped to the floor. Mom got up right away, unsteady on her feet, pulled her thong off and threw it at me.

"Don't you follow me," she barked as she turned to go upstairs.

"I won't," I said, but got up to trail her just the same.

"Don't come upstairs," she commanded as I started up the stairs behind her, mesmerized by her bare ass.

"I won't," I repeated.

"Don't you dare come into my room," she said softly, as she walked down the hallway and passed through her bedroom door.

"I won't, Mom," I guaranteed as I padded behind her to her bed.

"Don't try to fuck me again," she said as she stretched out on her tummy on the bed, lifting her ass up into the air and spreading her legs.

"I won't fuck you again, Mom," I promised as I shuffled in behind her and nosed my cock up to her pussy.

"Francis, no! Don't take me from behind," she cried.

"Never!" I gasped as I shoved my cock all the way into her cunt.

"Don't fuck me really hard, son."

"I won't, Mom" I agreed as I reached out to grasp her hair, tugged her head back and began to really shove it in her.

"D ... O ... O ... O ... N'T," she yelled as my bucking my hips slammed against her ass.

A few minutes later, as I lay spent on her back, her legs splayed wide, my still embedded cock dripping inside her, I whispered in her ear, "Don't milk me with your pussy, Mom."

"I won't, son" she said, laughing as she clutched me with her cunt, tugging my cock down into the mattress.

She squeezed even harder as I pulled my swelling cock out of her. "Don't pull out, son," she begged.

"I won't, Mom," I lied as I pulled my tool slowly out.

"Don't shove it back into me ... please don't." I slid my hardening tool into her as slowly as I possibly could. When I was fully embedded in her I kept pushing in short shoves, moving her up until her head was against the headboard. I pushed my tongue into her ear.

"Don't fuck me all afternoon, Mom," I groaned.

"Not a chance son," she laughed, her throaty voice stiffening my cock. She twisted and pulled on me with her clutching pussy. "Your Dad won't be home until late tonight," she laughed again as she splayed her arms out to her sides and began moving her hips up and down on my stiff member, fully plugged inside her from behind, between her wide open legs.

I'll let you know more about my suddenly horny mother in my next letter. Looking forward to receiving more from all of you. Until then.
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After that letter, I needed a break. When I wandered out of the study I ran into Mom who had just finished making some sandwiches and was about to call me. She had already fed Dad. An hour ago I would have been much more disappointed to miss out on a feeding session but now I was eager to return to his study to search for Dad's next letter. I found it near the bottom of the fourth bundle.
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Well friends, this is more of an epilogue than a continuation of our story. As I said at the end of my last letter, Mom and I were together for years. It wasn't until her sex drive waned and then stopped completely that I began my search for a wife, at Mother's insistence.

"You need an heir," she said.

So I found a young lass. There was no surprise in this. The older ones had long left for the city. She was quite pretty but shy. After a brief courtship, we married and I brought her to the farm. Our sex life was plain, and unexciting. There was none of the intrigue and surprise that filled liaisons with my Mom. And there was nothing taboo about it. I don't think either of us was satisfied. Despite that, she became pregnant in our first year of marriage.

Mother liked my new wife and she treated her like a daughter after David was born. They were always together. I began spending more time away, building my business. A few more years passed. One day, I noticed that they sat on the porch chatting quietly and would stop talking when I came near or make an awkward switch to some inane subject. I began to suspect that they were talking about me.

I rigged a recording device under the porch and to my horror found that my suspicions were confirmed. Mom was telling Susan all about us. She talked about our affair as a great romance, a love affair that transcended the taboo of incest. It was simply meant to be. Shockingly, she described many of our best sex encounters as proof of our love.

I tried to liven up our sex life, thinking that my mother's descriptions would lead Susan to more adventurous sex. But it didn't. She resisted when I tried to turn her over to take her from behind, and she never, ever sucked me. I would have dearly loved to blow a load into her pretty face. But I never did. Susan was pretty, but she was just plain sexless.

One day, listening to a recording of one of their conversations, I froze on hearing the phrase that would stay with me for years, and become an obsession for me.

"You'll see, Mother was saying, "when your own son grows up."

Good christ in heaven. Mother was advising my wife to be with my son? To cuckold me? I couldn't believe it.

When Mother died, we sold the farm and moved into town. When David reached his teen years, I watched him and Susan like a hawk. I configured my business so that I could work and control my agents from home. I traveled as little as possible, and almost always arranged for my family to accompany me so I could keep an eye on them.

Nevertheless, there were times when I had to leave them alone. I always tried to come home earlier than expected. I couldn't rig up video recording equipment. It was too unwieldy and expensive back then. But I did install sound recorders in our bedroom and David's room. Eventually, I rigged the living room as well. I became fanatical about it.

I did catch Susan needlessly displaying herself to David on several occasions. She let her skirt ride up, would come downstairs forgetting that she hadn't fastened her blouse or closed her robe, that sort of thing. David didn't seem to take any notice, thank god. I couldn't discuss it with Susan without owning up about recording her and Mom years ago. So I satisfied myself with keeping an eagle eye on my wife and son, feeling more and more jealous as I aged, my wife bloomed, and David grew into a strapping young man.

Let it be a warning to you guys. Keep an eye on your sons.

That's it for me. I have enjoyed all of your stories. There are so many of them. I love to retreat to my study to read them, after I've made sure Susan and David are in their respective beds.
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My god. Mom knew about Dad and Grandma, and Grandma had actually told her. He said Mom didn't like sex but I hoped he was wrong about that. Now I knew why Dad was always around. And I remembered times that Mom did let me see her. There were many times that Dad clearly didn't know about. If she didn't like sex, why did she show herself to me? She must have gotten off on it.

I knew one thing. I was going to find out. I could hardly wait for dinner time.
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