Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories

Her right hand dropped to her knee and then slowly pulled her nightie up to just above her mid thigh. She lifted herself as she did so, allowing the nightie to ride up under her leg as well. I think she watched me as she bared her legs but I'm not sure because my eyes were fixed on the hem of that nightie as it traveled higher. When she stopped I could see her thighs up to where they thickened and the flesh squeezed together.

"There's more to a woman than breasts, you know," Mom said in the same amused tone, leaning in to kiss me on my forehead, "much more." Then she added, "We're a little complicated for you men, even when you get older. It's no wonder you need help at this age." Noting my gaze, she queried me again, this time wanting a response, "You want to see further up, don't you?"

I nodded.

She leaned in to kiss me again, this time on my mouth. I watched her breasts when she straightened up, jostling unrestrained and uninhibited under her nightie. I wished she'd left the door open wider to allow more light. She just sat there, watching me watch her breasts. She laughed that laugh again as my eyes slid down to her legs once more.

"Ah, so you're a leg man," she whispered. "I'm learning new things about my boy." Again she laughed, almost a low growl, a laugh I hadn't heard before.

She sat still, letting me look, watching my eyes slide over her thighs, falling into the crease between and peeking into the darkness under the hem. Finally, she said, "I'd better go now. I was just checking so I could report that you really are sick."

She leaned in and kissed me softly on the mouth again. When she straightened up, I sat up as well, reaching to take her in my arms. She pulled back, but didn't get up.

"No, I have to get to bed."

"Just one kiss," I demanded.

"No, your Dad's waiting for me." Still she just sat there.

"A goodnight kiss," I insisted, leaning forward to put my arm around her, pulling her head to mine, bringing her mouth to me. Within seconds, my tongue was in her mouth. Minutes passed. It was a long kiss which ended with her leaning back over my legs, my left hand pressed against her side, her right breast resting on my wrist as it curled around her abdomen. We were both breathing quickly. Her eyes were sparkling as she got up, watching me as I leaned back to make way for her.

She stood, brushed her nightie down over her legs and started to the door.

"Mom," I whispered when she was halfway there. She stopped and turned, looking at me, not saying anything. She looked gorgeous, still out of breath, her hair mussed up.

"Would you leave your slippers here so I can watch you walk away in your bare feet?"

Mom didn't answer. She stood there for about 15 seconds and then silently walked back to stand in front of me at the side of my bed. I could hear her shuffling her slippers off her feet, kicking them under the bed. Without a word, she turned and walked, more slowly now, toward the door. Her fingers grasped her nightie on each side and pulled it up until the hem was at mid thigh, like she'd done on the bed. I watched until she finally disappeared. Seconds later, the hall went dark.

You'd think I would have had trouble falling asleep, wouldn't you? But I didn't. I started thinking about her legs, her thighs, and her question when she saw where I was looking, 'You want to see further up, don't you?' It seemed that I'd just thought about that and then I was waking up, with the same thought in my mind. I could hear my parents voices downstairs. The clock showed that I was already late, even if I got up now. Mom must have convinced Dad that I was truly sick. The voices stopped. I didn't hear Dad drive away, so I stayed in bed. I could hear the radio playing.

Time passed. I was impatient but I wasn't sure whether Dad was still downstairs for some reason and if I went to see and he was still there I'd probably end up going to work. Finally, I heard someone coming upstairs. I put on my sick look in case it was Dad.

The door pushed open and Mom entered, carrying a tray with my breakfast. Toast and eggs, sliced up apple, juice and a coffee. I sat up in bed, shedding my sickly demeanor as Mom set the tray on my legs. She was wearing her robe so I couldn't see how she was dressed. She was barefoot, I noticed. I wondered if she'd done that for me. She had several pairs of slippers, and she didn't try to retrieve the ones she'd kicked under my bed.

"Call me when you're done," she said. "Don't get up. I'll come." She whisked out of the room.

I settled in to eat. I was hungry. I had just leaned back to enjoy my coffee, having set the tray on the bed, when Mom returned. She was still wearing her robe, tightly wrapped around her and belted. She picked the tray up and left again, cheerily tossing out, "I'll be right back."

And she was. She must have dropped the tray off in the kitchen and come right back. She bounced up and sat on my bed where the tray had been, tucking her legs in and leaning on one hand, her head cocked to one side as she looked at me. I finished my coffee, set it on the bed table, and turned, expecting to start our morning session. But Mom just looked at me.

"You know," she said, "it's hard for a woman to be in the right mood in the morning. We always have so many things to do, and we start thinking about them right away."

What? She was reneging? That wasn't fair! I had to do something. Take charge.

She was talking again.

"... so men don't understand, women aren't simple like them. You can't turn them on by flipping a switch, like you can with men. And we can't do it FOR you either, you have to help."

There was a long pause.

"Men who figure that out get a lot further with women, I can tell you that."

Another pause.

"Has Dad figured that out?" I asked, not being able to think of anything else to say.

"We're not talking about Dad."

This was frustrating. I wanted to neck and feel her up. What happened to the flirty mom that had been in my room last night?

Mom was toying with the lapels of her robe. Not loosening them. She looked up at me with a 'Well?' kind of expression on her face. What could I do? I could try looking helpless and depressed like I had in the kitchen but I had a feeling that a little boy act would be exactly the wrong thing to do. I could look at her breasts and legs like last night but they were all covered up. I looked anyway but could immediately tell that wasn't going to work either. She was looking restless. I was panicking. She was going to leave!

Desperate, my thoughts galloped through last night again. What had I done that might have put her in a mood? Kissed her? No, she was talking about getting her in the mood for that so that wasn't it. What? ... I had it. I almost smiled but kept my smug face turned inward to myself.

"Yeah, I can see what you mean, Mom. That's why women are so interesting, and challenging."

Mom just nodded, waiting.

"Say Mom, do you still have those fluffy slippers?"

Mom looked at me, a little surprised I think. "Yes," she answered, unsure of what I was getting at.

"Do you think you could put them on for me?"

She nodded, slowly, then quickening, perhaps understanding now. "Sure."

Mom got up and made her way to the door. She walked slowly, like she had last night. I watched her until she disappeared again.

It was several minutes before she returned. When she appeared, she wasn't wearing the slippers, or any others for that matter. She was barefoot and walking far more slowly than when she'd left, giving me lots of time to watch her. Her robe was gone.

The nightie wasn't a three quarter length job, nor was it a knee length thing. It only came to just over halfway to her knees. There was lots of leg there to see. She knew I liked her legs. She paused just inside the door. She made no mention about her missing robe when she spoke, "I couldn't find them," she explained, took a couple more steps, stopped, and said, "You know, I think this nightie looks better without slippers anyway, don't you?"

She picked her hem up on the sides with fingers, like she'd done last night, but this time she was starting where she'd ended. The hem rose until it couldn't have been more than two inches below her private parts. She held it there, letting me have all the time I needed to admire the legs she knew I liked so much.

"Yesss," I drawled. "Yesss ... I think you're right, Mom."

"Turn ...," I blurted when it looked like she was ready to drop the hem, "turn around."

She kept the nightie high on her legs as she spun slowly around. One, two, three full turns. The nightie just covered her bottom in the back. When she started to walk toward me, I tossed out another instruction, "Keep it up high."

She did. She held it all the way to the bed and even held it up as she climbed up on the bed. She straddled my legs and sat on them. I noticed that her panties were a matching silky material of the same color before she finally dropped the hem lower onto her legs.

I was still propped up on the pillows in an almost sitting up position. She leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on my lips.

"What should we do today?" She smiled, leaned in for another quick kiss, and sat back on her haunches, on my legs, her knees outside mine. She was back to that perky, playful woman I'd met last night. She was beautiful. My cock swelled, but I don't think she could tell through the covers.

"Well ... we could just kiss some more, like we did the other day."

"Ah, you're learning," Mom looked pleased, like her 'teaching' was paying off. "A woman doesn't like to go faster than she wants to. You're going to learn more than those other boys, even if you don't get to see or do as much as they do."

That was disappointing. I wanted to see and feel her, not learn about women, but I didn't let it show. "And maybe how to hold a woman, properly, so she won't freak out."

Mom paused, then seemed to relax. "Uh huh. OK." She leaned forward to kiss me. "Put your arms around me, low down, but don't put your hands on my bum," she instructed.

I did as she asked. She continued kissing me. We kissed for several minutes. I moved my hands up and down her back, stroking the sides of her waist, but never tried to move them over her ass or down to feel the sides of her breasts. And I didn't try to slip my tongue in her mouth, but I gladly accepted hers when she finally pushed it into mine.

The next little while was filled with fairly intense mouth work, with Mom taking it to higher levels each time. When our mouths finally pulled apart, we were both gasping for breath. Mom's legs had stretched out so that instead of kneeling over my torso, she was laying over me with her legs splayed on either side of mine, her groin pressed against mine through the blankets.

"Whew," Mom gasped, "you're certainly getting better."

"And it's only been fifteen minutes," I answered.

"We're not timing ourselves, remember?" Mom verbally spanked me. "Anyway, you should never get cocky with a woman about how well you're doing. It's better not to even talk about it."

"Sorry Mom. I just got carried away, it felt so good."

Mom looked pleased. "Yes ... well, it felt good to me too."

"We're not finished yet, are we Mom?" I pleaded again.

"No, I guess not." Mom lowered her face to mine.

"Wait," I cried, "I'm really hot. Can I take my covers off?" I began tugging at my blankets. Mom started to get up but I stopped her. "No. Just lift up a bit. ... I can pull them out." I didn't want her to get off me, she felt so good laying on me, even through the covers.

"OK," I said as soon as I pulled and kicked the sheet and blanket to the side, pulling up as well as out to the side. My hands pressed on her back, pulling her back down on me. My lips took possession of hers right away. I didn't move when I felt her body on mine, not wanting to call attention to the fact that she was only wearing a short nightie, and I just my undershorts. Her legs were still splayed over mine, and her groin pressed against mine. My hardon must be evident to her now, especially since my upward action with the covers had pulled her nightie up to her stomach. I could feel her bare tummy pressed tight to part of mine and knew that only her panties were pressed against my shorts.

I let my hands press in on the middle of her back and pressed my arms tight to her sides. As I kissed her, I pulled her waist tighter to me, moving my hands up and down with the result that her pelvis moved the same way against mine. And her breasts. I could feel her nipples poking into my chest. I contented myself with this new level and once again waited for her to intensify our kissing.

I wasn't disappointed. Her mouth was hot on mine as she worked herself up more and more. Soon she was writhing on me, just slightly and very slowly, but writhing nonetheless. I was loathe to break our kiss, despite my need for air as breathing through my nose failed more and more to fill my body's needs. I could tell that her nightie had risen until it was piled across the small of her back, confirmed by my hands realizing that there was bare skin below the material. Her ass was bare! If only I could see it.

Finally, I could last no longer and pulled my mouth away, inhaling loudly, gasping great gulps of air, wanting to renew our kiss before she realized her exposed state and shut me down for the day. Mom was gasping for air too but her breathing recovered before mine.

"Lorne." Mom whispered into my neck, her head resting on my shoulder. The skin on her face was damp with sweat.

"Yes, Mom." I knew I was done even though she hadn't moved to break our body long caress.

"When you do get a girl to a point where ... you know ... you should always cover her up, so she feels safe and not exposed."

Well, I'd only got a little farther today but it seemed like a lot more. One step at a time, I thought, as my hands started to tug her nightie down.

"Pull the sheet over me," Mom whispered.

"What?" My hands froze.

"The sheet, Lorne. Cover me with the sheet."

Slowly, my hands slipped off her back, the right seeking the sheet to my side.

"Come on, cover me, make me feel safe." She kissed me several times on my face as she whispered to me.

Mom must think I was stalling to keep her exposed but I was just stunned that she was going to let this continue, knowing her backside was bare. It took me at least a full minute to cover her, my hands fumbling around to get the sheet over her back and legs. But the job was finally done and I returned my hands to their former position in the small of her back. Mom started kissing me again, light kisses on my lips, without any tongue play. I rubbed her back in small strokes, happy to be where I was.

"Lorne."

"Yes, Mom."

"When a girl opens herself to you, you should show your appreciation."

Again, she was leaving me behind. I pulled her tighter and lifted my head to kiss her, trying to slip my tongue into her mouth, but she blocked its entrance. Pulling her lips away but keeping her face close so I couldn't see her eyes, she whispered hoarsely in my ear, "Touch me."

I hesitated.

"Touch me," she whispered again, then lifted her face and planted her lips on mine, her tongue slipping between.

I moved my hands slowly, tentatively, up onto the swell of her buttocks. Her tongue moved faster in my mouth. My fingers crested her cheeks and slipped down the rear slope to the backs of her thighs. Deep into my mouth her tongue plunged. I reached the crease between bum and legs and dug my fingers between her thighs, stretching until they met, then sliding them together back up the divide that separated them, squeezing the flesh underneath. Mom's groin pressed harder into mine as my fingers travelled that delightful, narrow canyon.

"Mmmmmmmmm," she sighed into my mouth.

I pressed my cock up, once, twice, three times.

Mom broke the kiss as my fingers reached the top of her crack. "You like that, don't you?"

I nodded.

"Keep touching me," her soft voice caressed my ear. This time she just lay on me as my hands and fingers loved her ass. She moaned as I dug between her thighs and pressed the sides of my index fingers against her, under her bottom, before sliding them up, deeper between her bottomly crevasse. Again, she pressed her pussy down on my cock, shoving it hard against my stomach under my shorts. But this time, she ground it around, side to side and up and down.

"Keep touching me," she commanded, her breath ragged.

My fingers dragged more slowly down and back. Her groin ground harder against me, and her tits too. This time her pussy moved up and down and around more rapidly.

"Oh, Lorny," she groaned in my ear, a name she hadn't used since I was little.

I was caught off guard. It roared up my shaft, bursting from the head, shooting into my shorts, soaking them. Frantically, I humped against her panties. She didn't pull away. She kept grinding until I was still, laying there, panting, my hands slipping from her back.

She got up. "I think that's enough for now." She walked away. I turned to watch her, her bare feet padding softly on the floor. She wasn't in a hurry and though she didn't look back, I could tell she knew I was watching. She exuded sex appeal.
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I started searching right away for another letter from Lorne. I didn't hear Mom knock and was startled by her voice as she leaned in the opened door.

"Dave, come out to meet Mary and her son Paul." She ducked back through the door without further explanation.

In the hall entrance stood an attractive woman of average proportions and a boy. It turned out he was about my age but he looked much younger.

"Dave, I'd like you to meet Mary and her son Paul." Mom indicated the mother and son with a sweep of her hand. "Mary is a nurse and she's going to help us look after Dad part-time in exchange for living in the suite." Mom turned away. "Come on, Mary, I'll show you where everything is while Paul puts some of your things in the suite."

I was dismissed. Just like Dad, Mom made decisions affecting our lives without any consultation. I returned to Dad's study and starting searching for another letter from Lorne, forgetting my rule to read every one, until I encountered an update from Frank.

I told you about Frank in Chapters 2 and 5. You may recall that Frank's mom was helping him study in his room. Her real goal was to keep Frank away from Donna, a girl whom Frank has mislead his mom into believing was allowing him sexual privileges. Things became quite heated in their last study session where she allowed Frank to remove her panties, whereupon she pinned his cock to his stomach with her bare pussy and rubbed both of them to orgasm. She left her torn panties with him that night, promising him more bareback which she assured him no girl his age would give him.

I won't bore you with all the details, but Frank's idea of bareback, actually fucking her without a condom, didn't match his mother's. Bareback to her meant a repeat of their last tryst with her rubbing her soaking pussy on his uncovered cock. Not that this was bad. His mom made a habit of visiting his room and bringing both of them off. She sometimes allowed him to fondle her tits as she mashed her pussy around on his stiff rod until he shot his wad onto his own stomach.

But she wouldn't relinquish control. She always remained on top. His efforts to convince her to switch failed, as did his attempts to wrestle her onto her back. She invariably freed herself or blocked his goal with crossed legs, and she always punished him by leaving and not returning for the rest of that week. Frank fell into line despite his craving to lodge his pole inside his mom, something he couldn't do with her firmly in control on top of him.

When his mother last walked out on him, Frank decided to return to his original strategy, holding out the threat of Donna. He waited out his mother's absence for the rest of the week and then followed that by coming home late every night the following week, insisting he was 'studying' on his own at school, but making it clear he wasn't being entirely honest.

Finally, he stayed home one night but he avoided his mom, choosing instead to watch a game with his Dad. He declined his mom's offer for help studying, saying he was studied out. His mother left in a huff for the kitchen to start baking, something she often did when she was angry or needed to think about things. Frank still wasn't sure how to get her to let him be on top so he was simply delaying until he could figure out how to do it. He didn't want to blow it after going without for two weeks and he was sure if they were alone in his room, he wouldn't be able to resist her damp charms.

But his father, of all people, forced his hand. Knowing all too well about his wife's habit of baking at night when she was angry, he prodded Frank to go into the kitchen to right whatever was wrong. When Frank insisted he didn't know what was wrong, his father said that was beside the point and told him to go hang out with her until she 'softened', which he said was inevitable.

In Frank's words:

So I joined my mother in the kitchen. She was preparing dough and placing it on cookie sheets on the counter, ready to put into the oven which was warming. My anger dissipated as I gazed at her figure from her shoulder length red hair, down her slight shoulders to the ass I had held so familiarly so often, down her knee length skirt to her bare, tanned legs and feet inserted into pink slippers.

God, I wanted to feel her on me. I walked slowly, quietly toward her. I'll apologize, I thought, let her take control, if she'll just start rubbing herself on me again. She heard me a step away. She didn't pause but her head turned a fraction of an inch. I placed my hands on her shoulders and kissed her gently, softly, on her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered into her ear before kissing that too. She was stiff in my arms.

"You should be." Her voice was harsh. "Where were you all week?"

"I told you," I defended myself, "I was studying." I pulled her hair aside and kissed her neck, hoping to distract her.

"With that slut?"

"A couple of times," I lied, "but we didn't do anything, we just studied."

"Oh, sure," Mom replied sarcastically.

"We didn't," I insisted. Mom looked unconvinced. I shifted gears. "She wanted to, she promised to go all the way. I was tempted," I pulled myself tighter behind her, "and we played around but when she opened her legs, I just couldn't." I let my hands slide down her shoulders and slipped them inside her arms to rest on her waist just above her hips.

"Oh," Mom prompted disbelievingly, "and why couldn't you?"

I paused for effect, then answered, "Because it wasn't you. I just went soft. It was embarrassing." I pressed myself into her so she could feel that I didn't have that problem with her. I pulled her tight against me. "It was awful," I cried, latching my lips onto her neck, hoping her motherly instincts would make her feel sorry for me.

I could feel her relax in my arms, the tension flowing out of her. She let me kiss and suck on the nape of her neck, as if she knew the kitchen was our private domain for some period of time.

"Poor baby," she said. Her hands had stopped working the dough. She just stood there letting me press her to the counter, kissing her neck. I couldn't help taking advantage. I hunched my cock into her skirt. She let me do this too, simply drawing her arms back so she could grip the edge of the counter with her hands. I humped harder against her ass, pausing to thrust upward at the depth of each shove.

"I missed you so much, Mom."

"Poor baby," she repeated, pushing her ass out to meet my shoves.

I slipped my hands around and up to cup her breasts. "I need you to study with me." I thrust hard into her and squeezed her tits, biting her neck, grinding her ass against the counter.

"Is it so important for you, to be on top?" Her breathing had quickened.

"Not if you really don't want me to, Mom," I answered, lying through my teeth.

"But you want to, don't you?"
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