Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories

Mom nodded. I took possession of the third button again and quickly slipped it out, then moved directly to the fourth. This button was the gold, for it would open Mom's dress to just below her breasts, revealing the gorgeous swells of her tits. I slowed my pace undoing this button, watching Mom's face the whole time, working by feel, not even looking to see the result until I'd finished. I loved the tension as I worked, and the resigned patience in Mom's eyes as she tolerated my fumbling.

I was disappointed when I finally looked down to admire my handiwork to discover a heavy white bra. Mom laughed out loud when she saw the hurt look that must have crossed my face.

"Don't cry," she laughed.

Now it was my turn to be flustered. Upset, I undid the next button. Mom's dress was now held together by only one button.

"Will you undo that for me?" I asked, indicating her bra.

"Nope, it's your show," she insisted.

It didn't take me as long as I thought to open that thick casing to reveal the soft treasures underneath. She really did have nice, ample and mature tits, but her nipples weren't hard. Mom wasn't excited, probably because of my pressure and the stress of worrying about my father's arrival. I realized then that I should never push her, I should always find a way to pull her in.

"You still have half an hour, easily," she said. "What are you going to do," she mocked, "stare at them for thirty minutes?"

Undeterred, I answered immediately, honestly. "I could, Mom. You don't understand. I could look at you for hours. I'm not Matt. I'm not looking for a quick feel. I love you, everything about you."

I slid my cupped fingers under Mom's tits, gently, taking her weight, lifting them from her slouched tummy.

"If you just wore an old dress, like this, even with a thick sweater over top, but let me know that you weren't wearing a bra, or panties, then that would be enough. For you to do something sexy like that, just for me, that's what I call fun. And I'd enjoy that so much, I'd never leave home."

Tears welled up in Mom's eyes. Actual tears. She pulled me to her, hugging my head to her breasts.

"Oh Kevin," she cried, "I love you so."

When she released the pressure on my head, I pulled away just enough to slip my mouth over her nipple, sucking it in. I didn't bite, or pinch and tug her other one with my hand. I just sucked and sucked, moving over to take the other after a few minutes, only then manipulating the now wet one with my fingers, but gently, very gently. I moved back and forth every few minutes, from one nipple to the other, sucking and gently squeezing her tits. She was excited now, I could tell from her hard nips and the rapid rise and fall of her tummy. I was aching to grasp her panties in my hand but I didn't want to go too far.

When I pulled my head away, I was surprised how much her tits had firmed up and how long, stiff and swollen her wet nipples really were. I had really done a job on them. I kissed her.

"I'd better do up your dress now. Dad should be here any minute."

"He's usually late on Mondays," Mom answered, her hands slipping around my face. "Kiss them some more, baby."

"No Mom. It's too dangerous." Mom laughed at our sudden switch in roles, but she allowed me to start buttoning her dress, doing her bra up herself. When I moved down to do up the buttons in her lap, Mom opened her legs, showing me her panties. They were dampish in front and a musky odor wafted up to infiltrate my nostrils. It was very exciting for her to do that, that simple sexual act.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," Mom answered, knowing full well what I was talking about. I knew then we had reached an understanding.

"It feels weird to have you look at me like that," she whispered.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" I asked.

"No," she said, "not in the least." She watched me, looking at her panties, examining the soft rise from her tummy and fall between her legs, stained by a dark, damp cleft down the middle. "I'm intrigued," she said, "by your fascination." She paused, then added, "I like it." She moved then, bulging her panties up toward me, laughing quietly at her own joke.

Just then, we heard Dad's car coming up the gravel drive. I jumped up, nervous.

"You'd best go up to your room and do your homework," Mom said, buttoning her skirt as she calmly walked to the kitchen.

Dad was pleased to hear that I wanted to attend college in town, saving him big bucks. He told me he was very relieved that I was staying, what with Matt leaving and all, and he was proud that I was so thoughtful, so considerate of Mom. "She wouldn't say anything, you know. But I know she's just ecstatic that you're not leaving."

Mom wouldn't let me help clean up the kitchen after dinner again, and she disappeared upstairs for an hour afterwards. I could hear the bath running and couldn't stop myself imagining her getting in the tub, soaping her body, rinsing off by dribbling water over her thrusting tits with a large sponge. She was wearing her bathrobe when she came downstairs, like that time she'd let me see her legs, but this time she just sat demurely at the other end of the couch reading a book while Dad watched CSI. During the middle set of commercials, as usual, Dad bolted upstairs to use the bathroom.

Mom continued reading but reached down to scratch her left knee. Whatever was bothering her must have been quite itchy because she slipped her hand under the folds of her robe to scratch her bare skin on top of her leg but soon moved it to the outside of her leg. Though she continued to read, Mom also kept scratching her leg, slowly moving her hand higher and higher until she was almost scratching her hip. As her hand had moved up, she had pulled her robe open with it, exposing her left leg as she went. Frustrated, she dropped her book, loosened the belt on her robe, and pulled it from her leg entirely, scratching furiously on her bare hip. My eyes, closing following the entire path of Mom's scratching fingers, quickly noticed the absence of any panties covering her hips. I had just shifted my eyes to the tops of her thighs, barely glimpsing a tuft of light brown hair peeking out between her legs, when the toilet flushed upstairs and Mom snapped her robe closed, arranged it to cover her legs once more, and secured the belt.

Dad returned to watch the second half of CSI and Mom continued reading her book. Part way through the second half, Mom suddenly looked up from her book, catching me still looking at her, and smiled, configuring her face into a knowing expression, as if she and I were sharing a private communication.

There was another episode of CSI on after that. Mom offered to make hot chocolates just before it started and called me into the kitchen as soon as the episode proper began. Entering the kitchen, I knew I would never leave home until Dad kicked me out. Thank god for Matt.

Mom was leaning against the far counter, her robe unbelted, and displaying a narrow, two inch gap down the entire front. I couldn't see her breasts but I could see that the was braless since her skin was visible right through the middle. I could also confirm that she was indeed not wearing panties as my attention slid down to the area sloping down from her tummy to a small, brown quilt of hair. I walked toward her.

Just before I reached her, Mom whispered, "Is there something you wanted?"

"You called me, Mom," I whispered back, my eyes looking down past the swell of her tummy.

She ignored my response. "To see perhaps?" she asked, then added, "Or touch?"

My eyes remained on her patch of hair but I said nothing. Tentatively, I stretched out my hand. I felt like I was standing inside a seashell, there was that much noise swirling around in my head. It must have been my heart pounding and the sound of my own blood rushing to my head, and probably to my rising cock as it sucked in most of my spare blood. I extended my fingers, pointing them down and cupping my hand toward her.

"I didn't say you could," she whispered.

It was my turn to ignore her. I slipped my hand between her legs until her pussy hair tickled my skin, then pressed my long middle finger into her cleft, slipping the others over her lips to bracket the treasure between. I was in heaven.

Mom swung her arms around me to cover us both with her robe.

"There's all sorts of fun things you can do at home," she whispered, kissing me on my lips and nudging her pussy against my fingers.

When our kiss ended upon the sound of the next commercial I was rock hard and my fingers were wet. Mom pushed me away and wrapped her robe around herself, cinching it tight. It seemed strange that she could turn so quickly to the domestic task of measuring chocolate powder into mugs.

"Pour the water, "she ordered, "and warm them in the microwave."

She was muttering something to herself about going too far but I couldn't tell for sure. The mugs were hot when Mom took them in to Dad. The rest of the show was a blur. I couldn't believe what had happened, playing it over in my head, thrilled and stunned by Mom's behavior but worried about her muttering about going too far.

Mom went upstairs to bed with Dad after the show was over, ending my fantasy about continuing our kitchen episode. I sat by myself fantasizing about Mom coming back downstairs after Dad fell asleep, or to my room late in the night. The images were so vivid in my head I started touching myself and almost didn't hear Mom whispering from the head of the stairs for me to come say goodnight. She backed away as I climbed the stairs, retreating down the hall until she stood outside her room. I could hear the water running in the ensuite as Dad brushed his teeth but my eyes stayed on Mom as she raised her arms for a hug. As I neared, she let her robe fall open. She was still naked, her secret hair tufting out in disarray, perhaps from my previous handiwork. Mom guided my hand down and I quickly cupped her, as before, but this time my long finger slipped between already wet lips. She laughed when she felt my surprise, and quickly kissed me on the mouth, her tongue dipping inside mine for a few fleeting seconds before she pulled away.

"Think about that mister and staying home next year," she whispered excitedly. "Sweet dreams." She laughed and turned into her bedroom just as the water stopped running, closing the door behind her.

I thought about her alright, most of the night, awkwardly jacking off with my left hand while I sniffed my golden fingers.
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It looked like Kevin was getting close to nailing his Mom. Playing upon his mother's fear of him leaving like his brother had certainly seemed to have pushed her over the edge but I thought there must be something more at play for her to so willingly tease him. Maybe Kevin's revelation about how exciting it would be if she purposely dressed without bra or panties had triggered feelings of illicit pleasure within his mom. The fact that she did this in the house, when his dad was home, suggested his mom might be feeding her own excitement derived from the fear of getting caught.

Searching ahead, I found a letter from Mark (Chapter 11) who had been even closer to having his Mom. He was the guy with the beer belly dad who was commandeered into massaging his mother's feet and had parlayed that into a tongue fest on her nether lips, followed by a vigorous rubbing. Last we heard, his mom wanted to have a talk while his father was watching the big game with his friends at the pub.
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Today was big game day. Dad's friend Brad was supposed to pick him up on the way to the pub but he was late and the game was five minutes in when he arrived. Dad refused to leave until half time so they wouldn't miss anything. I was pissed. Mom had promised to have a "talk" while Dad was at the pub and, despite the implication that a lecture about going too far was coming, I was sure I could get Mom joking around and could then start feeling her legs again. And who knows where then? She was the one that had started the ball rolling. I had just kicked it into a new court. In my youthful view, once a girl let you touch her pussy, it was yours forever. So you can imagine how pissed I was that Brad was late.

"You're not watching the game with us, kid?" Brad was visibly shocked as he sat down, staring at my back as I stomped up the stairs. "What's up with the kid?" he asked Dad, looking genuinely concerned and perplexed. Dad just waved his hand, eyes on the TV. He asked Mom when she came in from the kitchen, bringing him and Dad a couple of beers each.

"I don't know, Brad. He's been out of sorts lately." Mom set the beers down on the table. "You know where the fridge is if you need more. I'm going up to talk to Mark."

I beat a hasty retreat from the top of the stairs where I'd been watching to see if Mom was coming or staying to play host. I heard her pad softly down the hallway toward my room, heard her knock and quietly call my name several times before opening the door and closing it. I heard her repeat this at the bathroom door before opening it to discover I wasn't there either.

"Oh there you are," feigning surprise upon finding me in her room, closing the door softly behind her, shutting out the din of the game and my father and Brad's even louder commentary. "I see you made yourself comfortable," Mom added in reference to finding me stretched out on her bed, still dressed in the sweatpants and t-shirt I'd put on that morning. I simply nodded, smiling despite my grumpy exit from downstairs.

"Over your snit?" she smiled, walking toward me, waiting until I nodded again before climbing onto the bed and crawling up to sit back on the pillows next to me.

"You aren't staying downstairs to play host?" I asked.

"No," she replied, "I thought I'd let Brad keep his eyes on the game for once."

"Well, Mom. You have to admit he doesn't have much at home to look at, like Dad does."

"Mark. That's not nice. Martha is your friend's mother." Mom's rebuke was belied by her face which seemed pleased by my words. "Anyway, I don't recall you being interested, until I asked you to massage my feet." Mom pulled her knees up and rubbed her feet together. "And you didn't seem to be able to stay focused on that little job."

It was my turn to smile. "I couldn't help it, Mom. You have really great legs, and your skin is so soft."

"Stop, Mark. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I know, Mom," I cut her off, "that's why I came upstairs." I turned onto my side, facing her, and slipped my right hand down to grasp her foot, my palm covering her arch, fingers reaching around to her instep. "I knew you'd want to have a private talk after they left for the pub."

"Actually, I thought we could ..."

"so we wouldn't be disturbed." I started to knead Mom's foot, bringing my left hand down to bracket her ankle from behind between thumb and fingers, squeezing and releasing, sliding up and down her Achilles tendon. Mom's hand came down to gently finger the back of my neck and twiddle the hair on the back of my head as I continued to work on her foot.

"Mark," she complained gently when my hand first slid up the back of her calf.

"We can't talk until they're gone, Mom." I kept sliding my hand up and down her leg. "We may as well relax, doing something we both like," my voice was soft, cajoling. Mom didn't answer, so I kept rubbing her leg. After a few minutes, when I could hear her breathing steadily, I held her foot and leg, my hand flat on her calf under the knee, and dragged her down the bed until her head was flat on the pillow. Pressing with that hand the other way, now against her thigh, I pushed her foot and drove her knee toward her shoulder, holding her leg tight to her chest as I released her foot and slid my hand up the back of her thigh.

"Mark, what are you doing?"

"Just tickling your leg, Mom, until they leave, that's all," I whispered.

"But I don't think ..."

"Just until they leave, Mom. Then we can talk without being interrupted."

Mom relaxed, allowing me to continue sliding my fingers up and down her thigh for several more minutes. She didn't protest until she felt me getting up onto my knees.

"What are you doing, Mark?"

Raised up, I could see that Mom didn't even open her eyes.

"I can't reach your other leg, Mom. I'm just getting up so I can tickle your other leg, too."

I lifted Mom's other foot as I positioned myself below her, bringing both feet down to rest on my thighs, putting a hand on the back of each of her thighs to continue my massage.

"Just relax," I soothed, "until they're gone."

Again, Mom let me continue stroking her legs. Waiting a few minutes for her tension to subside, I lifted her feet to rest them against my shoulders and shifted forward. Her pleated skirt fell from her knees to her chest, baring her legs completely, exposing the panties that covered the pleasure spot I had enjoyed so much the day before. My hands stroked closer to her panties as I leaned forward to roll her hips up and I couldn't help pressing my fingers in as I slid them off to either side, spreading her flesh and emphasizing the long puffy crest pushing up against her panties.

"Mark, I really think we should talk now."

"Not while they're still here, Mom. I can't."

"But I really think ..."

I picked up the hem of Mom's plaid skirt and pulled it up over her head, gently laying the material on her face, muffling her words.

"Talk later," I laughed, "after they're gone."

Making light of it worked, she fell silent. I returned to fondling her thighs. Soon, I was running my hands down, outside her legs to her hips, then gradually over her buttocks but careful to stay on her cheeks, avoiding her crack. I was surprised when she let me do this without comment, or any movement to indicate disapproval.

It was just after this that I became aware of the halftime music. Dad and Brad would be leaving now. Would Dad come up to say goodbye to Mom? Panic welled up inside me and I almost leapt from the bed but then a sobering thought consoled me. Dad wouldn't make an unnecessary trip up the stairs. I was sure he'd just leave, or continue watching the game.

Mom didn't seem to be aware the halftime show had stared. It was just after this, as I was looking down at her, trying to see if she knew Dad might be leaving, when my stroking fingers first caught the waistband of her panties, dragging them up toward me from her hips, quite by accident. Mom didn't react.

The next time was on purpose. I dragged her panties off a little more, and again a few strokes later. It took the whole halftime show but eventually I had Mom's panties below -- or from my perspective, above -- her buttocks, betraying her dark little hole and just the briefest hint of the pussy still hidden above. Amazing. Until that moment, I don't think my mother's asshole had ever crossed my mind, but there it was, a tiny crinkled donut around a small open oval. Spotlessly clean. I spread her cheeks, opening that tiny orifice into a small circle.

She spoke then but I couldn't hear her. I leaned forward to listen, seeing her lips moving under the skirt that profiled her face below, but I still couldn't understand what she was saying.

"Shhhhh, Mom. They're still here."

I thought she answered that we had to talk, but I couldn't be sure.

"When they're gone, Mom. We'll talk when they're gone," I assured her. "Now, be quiet, before Dad comes upstairs," I warned, the thought momentarily alarming me until I assured myself that he was gone.

I slipped her panties up a little higher until the waistband was halfway across her pussy. Readying myself to plant my mouth on her, I paused to push my sweatpants down, freeing my raging boner. I didn't want to mess them up like I did yesterday, and after licking her puss, she wouldn't notice until too late that I was rubbing my bare cock against her. I shifted my knees closer to grip Mom's hips and curled my hands and forearms around the backs of her thighs, making sure she couldn't get away easily if she reacted against my first embrace.

I stared at her panties, half covering her pussy. I pried with my hands, opening her little asshole as I leaned forward, extending my tongue, dipping into her spread crack, across her hole and up to her pussy, my nose shoving her panties out of the way as my slippery, wet reptile plowed between her lips, delving deep, thrusting into her surprised cunt as far as it could.

"Ohhhhh, GOD, MARK!" Mom yelled. "Mark, Mark, Mark," she kept yelling as I dug my tongue in her, not pulling out, shaking my head violently side to side as I ploughed her depths.

"Quiet, Mom," I whispered harshly when I finally pulled my face back, "shut up or they'll come upstairs."

I didn't wait for an answer. Instead, I pulled her cuntlips apart with my fingers and dropped my tongue into the wet pink canyon that yawed before me, lapping quickly to her muted moans. Several minutes later I pulled back.

"Hold your feet," I said, and was pleased to see her hands come up to grasp her ankles, freeing mine to touch her more delicately while I considered what to do next. I knew she wouldn't stop me now. I don't think my father had eaten her for a long, long time, if ever, and she wasn't about to miss out. She truly loved it. Her pussy was throbbing in anticipation of my tongue's next move.

I moved my fingers around her pussy, heightening her tension, tickling the nub above with the index finger of my left hand as I moved the index of my right slowly down her slit and below, to her little hole, lightly pressing in there.

"Oh, god," she whimpered, the skirt moving where her mouth was.

"What's this?" I whispered, tipping my fingernail in before touching my tongue to the bottom of her pussy, working my way up in side to side flicks interrupted by the odd flick into her slit. "What's this?" I repeated several more times until my tongue was playing around my finger at the top of her pussy while the other's fingernail was buried, wiggling in that little hole while I stimulated her above.

Mom's breath was rasping through her skirt a few minutes later. By that time, I was watching two fingers of my left hand slip in and out of her pussy while I wiggled my fully buried index finger in her ass. On a sudden urge, I pulled both hands away, dragged my tongue across both holes, and pushed forward as I straightened up, reading my cock for a plunge into her soaking slipperiness.

Mom abruptly let go of her legs and yanked her skirt down from her face, planting her feet on the bed beside me.

"NO."

I froze, my cock in hand, still poised above her pussy.

"No," Mom repeated, a firm yet desperate look on her face. "If you finish, I'll suck you."

"What?" I replied, stunned.

"I'll suck you, if you finish what you were doing."

We stared at each other for long seconds before I slowly lowered my head to her pussy, Mom raising and opening her legs to help, hands sliding around the back of my head, pulling me toward the pussy I'm sure she was set to deny me in our special talk.

I didn't rush. Mom wouldn't let me anyway. She was intent on making it last, pushing me away several times before she couldn't and pulled me in, her grip nearly breaking my neck as she tried to pull my mouth right inside her. She came hard. It took several minutes for her to quit shaking and quivering, experiencing two revival episodes.

I don't think Dad ever made her come like that. I don't think anyone had. She looked like a truly pleased woman as she watched me, a satisfied smile on her face, crawl over her hips, past her stomach, to straddle her chest. She shifted higher up on the pillow then, knowing what was coming, her eyes on my cock as it wavered before her mouth. I grasped the side of her head.

"You won't have to suck much, Mom," I moaned, pressing the tip to her lips.

"I know," Mom whispered, finishing with open lips on that 'oh' sound, letting me slide my cock inside her in one full thrust. Then I was at it, fucking her mouth. I know she said she would suck me, but I wanted to fuck her mouth, fuck her face, and she knew it. I felt her hands come up to grip my ass as my thrusts shortened, quickened, grew more desperate as I hunched over her head, moaning as I my cock scraped by her lips, felt the wet heat of her always moving tongue, then grunting with each spurt.

When I finally pulled my softening cock out of Mom's mouth, expecting to see a mess all over her face, I was surprised to her soft complexion unmarked, the only evidence of my attack the end of a big swallow followed by Mom's smile.

"Oh, Mom," I gasped, dropping onto her chest, wrapping my arms around her.

"It's ok," she patted my back, "it's ok."

Mom continued to console me for a few more minutes, then said, "I guess we have to recognize that we've crossed a line, and we'll do it again, it's inevitable. There's no use fighting it." She paused for a minute, then added, "You like being with me don't you?" I nodded. "But there's a line I'll never cross, you understand that too, don't you?"

I shook my head against her chest.

"Yes, Mark. There is a line."

I shook my head again, making sure to rub my cheeks across her tits. Mom laughed, pushing my head up, making me look at her.

"You brat. There is a line, and I won't cross it with you. Say you understand or I won't do this with you again."

I shook my head again, dipped down to kiss her breast, then said, "I love touching your legs, Mom, and I love kissing you places even more."

Mom looked at me closely, assessing me, then laughed again. "You really are a brat."

I laughed back. "I know."

"Well, I won't let you."

"And I'll try."

Another pause.

"Go get me a beer. I need one."

I put my sweatpants back on and headed downstairs, realizing then that Mom knew all along that Dad and Brad had left at halftime and that we were alone.
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