Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories

I looked down at Mom's legs, since she'd mentioned them. She noted my line of sight, and made a comment about not being used to tight dresses. Then she lifted herself and pulled the dress way up her legs. I reached over past the stick shift to her seat and rested my hand on the inside of her left leg. A moment later, sure of her acceptance, I pulled it toward me. Most of the way home, she let me run my fingers up and down the inside of her thigh.
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I would have carried on with Kevin's letter but I noticed some action on the monitor recordings. Quickly, I retraced the video back to where Mary and Paul came back into their suite. They both disappeared down the hallway to their rooms. Damn, I thought. Out of sight. But, Paul returned a few minutes later in his bathrobe and sat down on the couch, and Mary joined him half an hour after that, clearly having had a shower. She was dressed in a robe and was drying her hair with a towel.

Mary watched TV while Paul read a comic. Mary glanced disapprovingly several times at Paul and his comic book and asked him to watch the movie with her, but Paul declined. After the third time, Mary got up to go into the kitchen, returning with a large glass of juice for each of them. Paul suddenly paid rapt attention to his mother. She had removed her robe, presumably leaving it in the kitchen. She made no mention of the fact that she was now wearing just a thigh length cotton nightie. I could tell through the cameras that she wasn't wearing a bra, so I'm sure Paul could.

Mary sat down and continued watching the movie. Paul sat with the comic in his lap and his head turned toward Mary, blatantly watching his mother. Mary's demeanor indicated she thought everything was normal. Every minute or so, she would take a sip of juice, but she didn't look at Paul, affording him the opportunity of uninterrupted viewing. Mary even stretched a couple of times.

Perhaps thinking that she couldn't just sit there and let Paul ogle her all night, Mary asked him if he'd give her a shoulder rub. He agreed and swung his legs up on the couch, patting the seat between his legs. Mary slid over, situating herself in front of him, and he began massaging her shoulders.

Paul must have been adept at this because Mary seemed truly relaxed after about five minutes and leaned back against her son, resting her head on his shoulder as he began go massage her sides. He had to be rubbing past the sides of her breasts but Mary seemed content. Her eyes were closed so I don't think she noticed when Paul began to discreetly edge Mary's nightie up as his hands pulled up her sides. When Mary had sat between his legs, her nightie must have slid high enough to be clear of her bottom as she raised her knees to push herself back, because Paul was able to get her nightie up above her hips. Mary's small bikini panties were completely showing, and even a couple of inches of lower tummy above that. Again, I noticed the prominence of her mound.

"Paul," Mary suddenly spoke, startling both Paul and myself, "could you undo your robe? The belt is poking into my back." She didn't raise her head or open her eyes.

Paul slipped his hands behind Mary and fumbled around for a minute. Mary arched her back to give him space, which was a nice treat as her breasts pushed up against her nightie. Paul pulled his robe open, not just the belt, but the robe as well. He must be sitting with just his shorts between he and his mother. Mary relaxed, sinking back against her son. Paul began rubbing her sides again. Mary seemed almost asleep on him.

I noticed that Paul was a little more daring now. He must be thinking that he was about to have another show from his mother, she couldn't really be sleeping, and he seemed to letting his hands press harder against her sides when he was next to her breasts. If so, his thoughts were confirmed when Mary spoke again.

"Paul, are you sure you undid your belt?"

"Yeah, Mom." Paul looked almost annoyed, I imagine because he wanted her to pretend to doze off so he could feel free to look and touch her more openly.

"But it's still poking in my back. Make sure, ok?"

Mary arched her back again and Paul fumbled behind her. I couldn't see what he was doing but my guess was he was pulling his dick out of his shorts.

Mary leaned back again when he assured her the belt was gone. I could tell from her expression something was still pressing into her back, followed by a shocked expression and reddening of her face. But she didn't complain when Paul started rubbing her again and she soon began breathing deeply and regularly, Paul's signal to play.

It wasn't long before Paul had worked Mary's nightie right up to bunch below her breasts. This nightie was one piece so he couldn't undo it like her robe. It looked like he was going to try to pull it right over her breasts, a pretty gutsy move. I was just thinking, no way, when he did exactly that. He just pulled it over her tits, lay it on her neck, and stared at her tits for a while. Mary didn't react. Paul watched her tits rise and fall as she breathed heavily but regularly for some time. Then he passed his threshold for action and his hands slipped up from her sides to hold her breasts.

He didn't move at first. He just held her tits, his palms resting flat on top of them, but eventually he started to squeeze, just a little, kneading her tits like he was squeezing a pair of small lemons. Squeeze, release. Squeeze, release. Squeeze, release.

Mary let him continue. He didn't play with her nipples, he just kneaded her tits. I could see Mary's tummy pulsing which was odd until I realized Paul was pushing himself into her back. Good god, I thought, my own cock surging, she was letting him dry hump her back. Her tummy was pushing up now as Paul strengthened his thrusts behind his mother and quickened his pace. Mary's eyes opened with a frantic look. I think things had got out of hand and she didn't know what to do. She was looking about wildly but I she guess couldn't think of anything to do but ride it out. She closed her eyes as Paul cranked into the final stretch.

It wasn't long but there was no way she could pretend to have slept through that ride. She was bouncing on top of him at the very end. He ground himself into her back as he slowed down and finally stopped. His hand fell from her tits. Mary reached up and dragged her nightie down to cover herself, awkwardly climbed off her son, and disappeared down the hallway. I heard the shower start.

Paul lay there, gasping for breath, his big cock laying flat on his stomach. He struggled up and put his robe on, pulling it closed over his cum-stained stomach. He just sat there, looking a little stunned at what he'd done.

Mary appeared a moment later wearing another robe. She looked at the monitor.

"I'm going up to check on Mr. H," she said, sounding a little angry. "Go get a shower." And she was gone.

I turned back to Kevin's letter.
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I was true to my word. I didn't bother Mom for at least four days. I have to admit, though, that it was awfully hard, especially later in the week when our Sunday drive was so close. Standing behind her doing the dishes for four days without trying to give her a kiss, put my hand on her waist, or brush against her behind, was mur*er. But on Friday night, I got a reprieve.

"You've been awfully good all week, mister," Mom said as soon as we started the dishes.

"I've tried hard, Mom. Are you going to come for a drive?" I asked, a little desperate.

"I haven't made up my mind yet," she replied.

"Mom," I complained.

"You've been good, it's true. But I have to say, you've been pretty boring all week."

I took a cup and dried it, looking at her as she scrubbed another. What was she saying? Did she want me to fool around? If I did, and I was wrong, she surely wouldn't come for a drive. What to do?

I finished the cup and put it away. As I passed behind her, I leaned in and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

"Sorry, Mom."

"That's ok."

I picked up the next dish, dried it, and put it away also. Then I stood behind her as she washed the next one. I kissed her cheek, and then her neck as she worked. She just smiled, so I kissed her again, letting my lips linger on her face. She finished the dish and started another. I didn't move to pick it up. Instead, I put my hands on her waist, and whispered, "Can we go to the same spot?"

"Don't you like to try new places?" she asked.

"I kind of like familiar ground," I replied, rubbing my hands up her waist, feeling the swell of her breasts.

"Do you now?"

"Yes. When you have the best ground, why go anywhere else?"

"Men always like to explore," Mom replied.

"True. But some discover new things on old ground," I whispered, leaning in against her. She felt softer tonight, different somehow. I pushed my hands forward a little so my fingers touched the sides of her breasts instead of her waist.

"So I'm old now, am I?" Mom teased, finishing another dish and putting it in the rack.

I pressed in harder and let my fingers slide under her breasts. "An old woman wouldn't feel like this."

Mom seemed pleased by my comment but she pushed me back and spread her arms to force my hands away from her. "You're falling behind. Let's get these dishes done now."

That was it for that night. Saturday, I had to work. Dinner was done and the dishes too by the time I got home, even though I rushed to get there. I was up early Sunday. It was a beautiful day. Mom made a great breakfast but wouldn't let me help with the dishes. She sent me out to help Dad in the yard. I was angry, thinking she'd drawn me in Friday night and was now canceling the drive. But when I got back in the house, she was waiting, dressed in her long coat and holding a picnic basket.

"Are you ready?" she asked, a little smirk on her face.

She asked me to stop as soon as we left town so she could take her coat off. She was wearing the same dress and she let the hem ride up as she got back into the car. I didn't stop at the Dairy Queen, I sped right past. Mom didn't protest, she simply reached across and laid her hand on my leg. "We're not in a hurry, Kevin," she said.

It was an hour before we arrived at our afternoon spot.

Quickly, I spread the blanket and we sat down to have our lunch and wine. I relaxed as we ate. I was filled with anticipation, but I somehow knew she would let me do what we'd done the week before. She teased me, but she wasn't mean. I enjoyed looking at her, her hair moving in the slight breeze. She had an easy manner when she was with me out here, I noticed, she was different. We took our time drinking our wine. Mom finished hers first and asked me if I was going to massage her like I had last week. "Of course," I assured her, sipping my wine.

"Don't hurry, take your time," she said as she got up on her knees, legs tucked underneath, lifted her fingers to her dress and began slowly undoing the buttons. She did all of them as I watched, moving at the same deliberate pace.

I finished my wine and tossed the glass aside, moving to kneel behind her and squat on my haunches, making a place for her to rest on my thighs, like she had before. Her hands reached down to grasp the hem of her dress and she tugged it up high on her legs as she wiggled herself back closer to me. I thought she was about to sit down and lean against my legs but she paused for a moment, then she started shrugging her shoulders, like something was bothering her.

Her dress slipped off one shoulder and then the other. I could see that she had pushed it off with her hands. She looked back at me then and smiled, then sat down and leaned back. There she lay, on my legs before me, her dress pushed down to her waist and her breasts bare and thrusting up toward me. God, this woman was exciting.

"I love the feel of your hands, Kevin. Love me with them," she whispered, closing her eyes.

I reached down to take a breast in each hand, testing their softness, rubbing my thumb down to meet my palm, nipple squeezed between. I pulled her nipples up about an inch and gently shook her tits. I let them drop, them pushed them flat with my palms and rolled her nipples around for several minutes, followed by an extended period of pinching and tugging her nipples.

Reluctantly, I moved to caress her legs. I repeated, as close as I could remember, the same sequence of stroking caresses I had done the previous week. I took a long time stroking her thighs until I reached the same point as the week before, my fingers spread around the edge of her panties. I think she'd been close to letting me touch her then, but she'd stopped me, enticing me away with the hint of her breasts. But she'd let me start with her breasts today.

"Touch my breasts again," she whispered.

"I'm almost finished your legs, Mom."

"Ok," she whispered back, "but just a bit longer."

I squeezed my hands together, just the slightest bit, pushing against her panties, shoving her womanhood up. Mom's breath sucked in hard. She seemed about to speak, to stop me. I flicked my thumbs down, brushing them over her panties, over her mound.

"Ohhhohhhohhh." Mom's hips moved, twisting her panties up against my thumbs. I don't think she could help it. I brushed my thumbs back and forth, pressing more firmly as I rubbed them along her pussy lips. I could feel they were damp even through the panties.

"Ohhhhh, ohhhhhhh, ohhhhh," Mom sighed and purred, music to my ears. I was proud that I could make her feel like this. Her eyes fluttered and she seemed about to speak again. I moved the fingers of my right hand into the center of her panties, on the lower side, and pushed, the tips of my middle three fingers making a hollow, between her lips. I began moving them in a circle, pressing in and out as I worked them around.

She was gone. Her hips began generating little thrusts, pushing her up against me. Her eyes were now screwed tightly shut, her face no longer serene.

I slipped the fingers of my top hand under the elastic of her panties, finding her groove and laying my long finger in it. I pressed down with my finger and released, then again and again, at a steady pace. Her hips were really straining now, pushing her pelvis against my hands. I slipped my lower fingers under the leg of her panties and pushed them inside, gratified by the wet, squishy sound as they slid in. Her hips began bucking furiously, there was no need to move my fingers, I just held them still while she did all the work. She was moaning. She seemed very close. A tremendous urge struck me. I leaned way over and covered her damp, panty covered mound with my mouth, pulling my upper fingers back to make room for my tongue, pushing it into the top of her panties.

Mom shuddered, lifting her ass off the ground, legs straining, heels dug into the blanket. Her whole body quivered as her pussy shoved frantically into my face. Between gasps she was wailing. She collapsed to the ground, my face landing half a second later cushioned by her panties and the puffy lips underneath. I took one last munch and was rewarded by a long, throbbing shove into against my face.

I don't think Mom knew what to do after that. She lay still, breathing very hard. My face was still on her panties but she didn't try to push me away. I realized that Mom didn't know how to handle letting herself get that carried away, but I didn't have a clue how to proceed either. I was very horny, so I just kept touching her. I was still kneeling with her head laying on my legs. I twisted my hips against her head, repeatedly pressing the bulge in my jeans into her hair. I moved my lips against her panties and slid my hands back to squeeze her tits. There was no way she could miss the point that I hadn't had mine.

Mom put her hands on my head and tried to move it away from her pussy, but I held steady, continuing to work my lips on her panties. Her hands dropped away. It crossed my mind that my father had probably not put his mouth on her for a long time, if ever. Anyway, it didn't seem that she wanted to stop me all that bad. I shifted my knees back and opened my legs, letting Mom's head drop to the blanket. Dropping my hands from Mom's breasts to brace myself, I stretched my legs out to help hold my weight and lowered my hips until the front of my jeans pressed lightly against Mom's mouth.

I don't think I could have been more obvious but Mom didn't take the hint to unzip me. I was so horny, I almost came anyway. I rubbed myself sideways across her face for emphasis but she only turned her head, facing away from my desperate knob. I needed to do something, I was so horny I thought I would die. Lifting off her and twisting around, I laid down between her legs, lowering myself until I felt my jeans contact her mound.

"No, Kevin, no," she cried, her hands grasping my hips and trying to push me away.

"Yes," I gasped, "I'm so horny, I have to do something."

"I can't, I can't," she pleaded, struggling desperately to push me away, without success as my bulge pressed into her.

"I can't help it," I panted. "You let Matt rub you," I accused her. "I need to too."

Her hands relaxed. Unrestrained, I humped against her.

"Yes," she acknowledged, "and he ran away when I refused to do it again."

"I won't run away, Mom," I promised, "Just let me rub you like Matt did."

When her hands slid up over my shoulders, I knew I'd won.

"Ok, Kevin. I'll let you do what Matt did, and then that's it." She patted me on my back with both hands, giving me the signal to go ahead.

Reaching under, I undid my belt and pushed my jeans down over my throbbing cock. Released from the constraining power of my jeans, my dick straightened out against the mild strength of my jockey shorts.

"No!" Mom cried. "Keep your jeans on, like Matt."

"I'm still wearing my shorts," I wailed back, pressing down on her, delighting in the greater warmth from this closer connection.

"No, Matt wore his jeans," cried, less emphatically.

"It's too late," I gasped, rubbing my boner up and down on her pussy, humping against her like I was really fucking her.

In the time before she replied, I had rubbed my stiff cock through her a dozen times.

"It's not the same," she panted, "it's not fair."

I rolled sideways into her as I rubbed up and down. She moaned and raised her legs, her knees reaching almost to my shoulders. I rubbed her really fast, then slowed down to a slow grind. She shoved her pussy up to meet me.

"Why is it so hard to say no to you?" she panted, then let out a long, slow, "ohhhhhhhhhh, Kevin."

I became less desperate when I heard that. I concentrated on giving her the best rubbing, or fake fuck, I could manage. I changed my pace and pressure frequently and staved off coming until she did too. I kissed her when we finished, a long, languid tongue exchange.

When that was done, I whispered in her ear, "I'll never go away, Mom. I'll never leave you alone."

"I know, Kevin," she whispered back, "that's what I'm afraid of."

She watched me as she cleaned herself with a towel from the picnic basket. I took off my jeans, slipped off my shorts, cleaned myself with the dry back, and tossed them away. Buttoning her dress, still sitting on the blanket, she kept her eyes on me as I stepped back into my jeans. Instead of pulling them all the way up, I turned toward her, my cock sticking straight out.

"Are you boasting that you're bigger than the rest of the men in the family?" she laughed.

"Am I?" I asked.

Her response was to let her eyes twinkle as she held her hand out for me to help her up. I pulled her up but held onto her hand, moving it down to my cock. She pulled back when she realized what I was trying to do.

"Come on, Mom. It won't bite." I pulled her hand nearer, looking down to watch.

"No, I can't," she said, "I mustn't." She wasn't tugging her hand any harder, despite the extra pressure I'd brought to bear to get it closer to me. Her eyes, like mine, were on my cock and her hand.

I twisted my cock to nudge against the fingers of my hand and hers.

"Touch it, Margaret," I suggested softly. I don't know why I used her first name.

She groaned and stopped trying to pull her hand away. I loosened my hold and saw her fingers open within my hand. I pushed my shaft in, nestling it against her palm. Her fingers closed over me. Her fingers were so soft and gentle, like little vines snaking around my cock. I started to harden immediately. She gasped, yanked her hand away, and ran toward the car. Calmly, I gathered all our things and followed her. She didn't let me stroke her leg on the way home this time. She was quiet, lost in her thoughts all the way. So was I.
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Mary was gone at least half an hour. By the time she returned, Paul was sitting on the couch, wearing the same robe, reading a comic and drinking a coke. Mary sat down on the couch beside him, rather than at the far end.

"Put that comic down, you're not a little boy anymore."

"Oh, sorry Mom." Paul closed the comic, holding it in his lap. He did look like a little boy about the get heck for something he'd done, and knowing he had to sit through it.

Mary's tone softened as she looked at him. "Look," she said, "we have to talk." She reached out to pat his hand with her left and tugged on the comic with her right. Reluctantly, his grip loosened sufficiently for her to pull it away and toss it behind her on the couch. Paul looked even more lost without his comic to hang on to for support.

"Look," Mary started again, her gaze still where the comic had lain, but she was distracted when she saw the large lump in her son's lap. Her face flushed as she remembered it pushing into her back.

"Look," she started again, looking at Paul's face, "I know things have been a little crazy around her the last little while, that I ... uh ... have been a little different."

Paul nodded slowly. He seem confused, probably expecting to just get shit.

"You're old enough to be a man, now. Too old for comic books." Mary nodded her head to the side, back toward the comic book. "And I ... uh ... just thought we could ... could relax in our home, like two adults. You understand?"

Paul nodded again, his head moving faster.

Mary continued, "I wasn't wrong, was I? You're not a boy anymore, are you?"

Paul shook his head emphatically.

"Good," Mary said, "because when I saw you reading a comic book, I thought I was wrong."

Paul finally spoke, "No Mom. I just picked it up 'cause it was there. I wasn't really reading it," he lied.

Mary took his hands, still lying in his lap, into hers and looked him in the eye, "So we can get rid of them? Right?"

Paul looked very unsure. Mary's head nodded once, seeking his agreement, and her hands seemed to grip his more tightly. Paul's eyes glanced down from Mary's face to her chest, then quickly back again. He nodded.

"Right?" Mary prodded.

"Right Mom. I don't need them anymore."

"That's good, son. I'm glad to hear that you can leave little boy things behind." Mary leaned forward to kiss Paul on the cheek. As she did, she pressed her hands, and his enclosed in her clasp, into his lap. She pulled back a few inches, her eyes searching his face, then leaned in and kissed him softly on the mouth, lingering for a half a minute.

"You're a man now, Paul," she spoke as she pulled away. "So I can relax around the house, the way I have been lately, like I couldn't when you were a boy. Can't I?" It was a demand more than a question.

Paul nodded, looking encouraged. Mary pulled her hands away, leaving his in his lap, laying on either side of the large lump under his robe. Mary glanced down, then went on, "And we can ... relax together, as long as it doesn't go too far." Mary nodded her head once, her eyes seeking agreement once more.

Paul nodded, then, after looking into her eyes, said, "Right," in a solemn voice.

"Because I'm your Mom, and there's some things you can only do with other women."

Paul nodded again. Mary leaned in and hugged him, pulling back to kiss him on the mouth again, a little longer this time. When she pulled back, Mary looked down at the swelling mass under Paul's robe, now bracketed by her hands as well as his.

"Like pushing that against me," Mary canted her head down, "at least, all the way like you did tonight."

Paul shook his head in agreement, embarassed.

"That's for other women."

Paul didn't nod in agreement this time. Instead, he said, "I understand, Mom. But I can't do anything with other girls because they think I'm deformed."

"Deformed?" Mary asked, her voice rising. "Deformed?" she repeated, indignant.

"Yeah," Paul responded, "you know, you felt it."

"You're not deformed," Mary insisted angrily.

"It's got a really big head," Paul insisted back, "they said it was ugly, they said it's deformed."

"Who said?" Mary demanded.

"Some girls at a party."

"Well they're wrong. There's nothing wrong with you."

"There is, Mom," Paul said quietly, "look." And Paul pulled his robe apart, pushing Mary's hands aside as he did.

Paul's semi hard cock sprang free. A normal, healthy six inch dick, the shaft a little thicker than usual, but otherwise normal, except the large head, which was easily more than three, almost four inches across in any direction.

Shocked, Mary stared at her son's bare cock, a little slow to realize he hadn't put on shorts after his shower. Long seconds dragged by.

"You're not deformed," Mary finally whispered.

"Yes, Mom, the top is way too big."

"No. Some women would like that," Mary replied, still staring at her son's cock. Was she imagining what it would be like to feel that massive head trying to bludgeon its way inside her? Or, was she simply marveling that her son was a match in his way to her own prominence?

"Really? One girl told me it was ok, just big. Too big for her, she said." Paul, noticing that his mother was entranced, pushed her hand toward his cock, lifting it with his until her palm pressed against his enlarged head. "She said she could hardly hold it," he whispered.

I was amazed. Mary's hand closed over her son's cock, but she was unable to close her fingers around it. I couldn't believe this. Mary, who thought it would be going too far to flash her boobs a few days ago.

Paul continued, still whispering, "She had to use both hands." He nudged Mary's other hand up until it too circled his cockhead. Mary's hands were held as if she was trying to cup water in her palms but instead they surrounded the head of Paul's cock like a planter holding a large flower.

Seeing that Mary was still enthralled, Paul continued, "I asked her where I could find a girl that wouldn't think it was too big." Paul pushed his cock up and down, once, through Mary's hand without any reaction from her. "She said, only a mother would kiss something like that, and only if she had a smile as big as Cameron Diaz."

Paul twisted his hips toward Mary, his knees pushing her farther down the couch so that she had to lean forward, her arms outstretched, to keep holding him. He nudged her again and she shifted her own hips to slide farther back. Paul lifted his hands, sliding up Mary's arms, outside her robe, to her shoulder and over to rest against her neck.

"Like your smile, Mom," Paul's voice lulled, his hand stretching behind Mary's neck and tilting her head forward. His other hand slipped over her head and pulled it down. "Everyone says you look like Cameron Diaz with dark hair." Mary nodded, the first indication she was conscious since she'd touched his cock. Her thumbs brushed across it's wide tip as if prepping it.

The final tug and Mary's lips contacted her son's most notable feature. I expected her to jerk back, startled from her strange trance but she didn't. Instead, her mouth stretched, stretched wide, and as I watched, Paul's cock disappeared slowly into her mouth.

He was smart enough not to try shoving it into her. He waited while she worked her mouth until the entire head was inside. Mary's jaws were at an incredible angle. I was reminded of a snake trying to swallow a much larger animal.

Then Paul did something I'll never forget. Holding his mother's head, he gently twisted it sideways and then back. A few times more and he let go. Mary continued twisting her head on his cock.

"Only my mother would do this, she said." Paul whispered.

A minute later, it happened, as with my mother. Mary had no idea of the load that was coming or she would have pulled back. Paul suddenly arched his back, exploding into Mary's mouth. Mary's cheeks suddenly puffed out and her throat thickened, pulsing as she struggled to swallow the gush of cream forcing its way into her. Some spilled out of her mouth, flowing down Paul's shaft, but even that wasn't enough. By the time she managed to pull herself off his cock, come was flowing from her nostrils. And still, she took two major splashes in her face.

Mary stood, her hands splayed to her sides, cum frothing from nose and mouth, then ran down the hallway out of sight.
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