Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories

Can you guess how shocked I was coming down the stairs to see Dad and Brad still watching the game?

"Coming down to the pub with us, son?" Dad asked as I reached the bottom of the stairs, "We're heading down as soon as the game's over."

"No," I choked out, darting into the kitchen, "I've got to talk to Mom."

"Grab us a couple more beers," Brad yelled.

When I came out with two beers for them and two for me and Mom, I explained that wished I could go but I had to talk to Mom.

"Hey, we understand women," Brad guffawed. "Go take care of your mom, kid."

"Yeah," Dad laughed along with his friend, "take care of Mom."

That's exactly what I intend to do, I thought as I climbed the stairs for the second time that day, but not the way you think. I closed the door firmly behind me before walking to the bed. Mom watched me as she lay propped up on one elbow.

"They were downstairs the whole time?" she seemed genuinely surprised.

I handed her a beer, already opened. "Yup," I answered. "They're off to the pub after the game, said I should take care of you."

"Oh," she laughed, rolling onto her tummy, propped up on both elbows now, looking sideways at me as I lay down beside her on my left elbow, beer held in my right, eyes sliding down her back, over her red plaid skirt, and along her legs to her bare feet. "So, are you?" she asked.

"Am I what?" not really paying attention to what she was saying.

"Going to take care of me?" She turned her head, taking a small sip, watching me appreciate her form.

"After they're gone," I replied.

"What am I supposed to do until then?" Mom asked in a sexy, husky voice, shifting her feet apart to open her legs.

I took a drink too, a long one, and passed my beer to my left hand when I finished. I trailed my free hand down her back and up the rise of her buttocks, letting it rest on her soft flesh, fingers finding the groove under the plaid material. Gently, I moved my hand in a small circle, searching for the telltale ridge of her panties but finding no sign.

"Sip your beer," I suggested, "it's gotta last."

My brow furrowed as my hand moved, widening the arc of its search. Mom's knees bent as she drew her legs up to allow them to open wider.

"But you're not sipping yours."

I retrieved my hand to take my beer, took another big slug, and switched hands again, returning to fondle Mom's rump.

"I have other things to do," I argued, "you don't."

"Oh," Mom said in a teasing tone, "so I'm supposed to just lay her while you do your big important things." She lifted her hips, pressing her rump against my circling palm, settling down with legs open just a little wider yet.

"That's the picture," I responded, teasing her back, "your job is to just lay there and enjoy yourself."

I was now convinced that Mom was naked under the skirt but, looking around, I couldn't see her panties anywhere and it didn't make sense that she would toss them after laying down the law about not crossing the line.

I switched hands again, downed the rest of my beer, and tossed the empty to the floor. Mom sipped her beer as I did, looking very amused, even laughing at my eagerness to return my hand to renew my search.

"Lost something?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"No, no," I returned, my hand dipping down, pushing her skirt between her legs, finally encountering her panties, stretched across the bottom of her buttocks, leaving her cheeks bare above. She hadn't tossed them, she simply hadn't pulled them back up. I could feel myself lengthening as I realized she was open to play, even though she knew Dad and Brad were still downstairs watching the game.

Mom reached over to set her bottle down on the bedside table, then settled down in the pillows, hands folded below on her chest, elbows by her sides. Her legs straightened but remained parted. I started pulling her skirt up, bunching it in my hand on her behind, then pulling it higher to pile it on her back, leaving her ass bare before me, her panties stretched tight across the backs of her thighs.

"Make sure you pull my skirt down if you hear your Dad coming," Mom instructed.

I laid my hand across her cheeks, then slid my palm down, cupping her left cheek, sneaking my fingers between her panties and her ass, fingertip brushing across the bottom of her pussy. Pushing my hand forward, I slid it back up, fingertips trailing up her crack, stopping when my palm was once more resting on the crest of her left buttock, fingers poking in, wedged between her cheeks. I wiggled my fingers, searching for the crinkly button with my longest finger.

"Haven't you had enough for today?" Mom whispered, laying with her face toward me.

"No, not nearly," I whispered back, hoarsely.

"I'm serious about the line, Mark."

I leaned forward, placed my left hand on Mom's right cheek and pressed it outward, opening her crack, revealing the little donut hidden there. I drooled some spit directly on target and quickly moved my long fingertip on top to spread it around.

"Why do you like that so much?" Mom asked, apparently not bothered by my attention there.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, "I just do."

"You can play there all you want but it won't get you in where you want to go," Mom warned.

"I don't mind. Can I play around until they leave?" I continued circling my fingertip, dripping another dollup of saliva in to smooth its ride.

"It's neither here nor there as far as I'm concerned," Mom commented nonchalantly.

I surmised from her answer that this didn't do much for Mom, but from what I'd seen in porno movies by so-called ass masters, that could change if you took your time. I resolved to do just that. Play with her ass while stroking all around her pussy, building up a groundswell of horniness.

After a few more minutes went by, I suggested, "Can I lay on top of you? It wouldn't be crossing the line when you're facing away like this."

I was looking for confirmation, or at least no objection. Mom didn't say anything so I just kept sliding my left hand around her bottom while I continued working my finger around her little hole.

"Mom?"

"If you keep your pants on."

"But I'd pull them up quick if I heard Dad coming." I argued.

"No."

"After? Can I do it after they leave?"

"We'll see," Mom's delayed response finally came.

I pulled my finger out and replaced it with my thumb, allowing my fingers to trail down her crack to her pussy slit. As I rubbed her crinkly with my thumb, I let my fingers brush back and forth across her pussy lips. I knew I was getting somewhere when her tummy suddenly pushed into the bed, cocking her ass up so more of her pussy could twist toward me.

As I twiddled her pussy lips I managed to work the first part of my thumb inside her ass. Mom's reactions belied her nonchalance about her ass since I seemed to be getting more reaction to my thumbwork than my manipulations of her pussy, but I had a sense she wouldn't admit it.

"I think they're going now, Mom," I whispered, pretending to hear something.

During the distraction, I slipped my left hand under her tummy and moved it down until I could slip my fingers between her pussy lips from above. Mom moaned, turning her face into the pillow. I was sure I had her now, but I was even more tense now, afraid to screw things up.

Her ass lifted, whether from my fingering underneath or new appreciation for my asswork, I don't know. I slipped the long finger of my left hand fully inside her pussy and replaced my thumb with the long finger of my right, along with all the drool I could muster. Within a dozen thrusts, I accompanied both long fingers with both index fingers, now working two fingers in each hole.

Mom's hips were hunching now, her ass lifting up to meet my fingers in her rear and then forward into the mattress to shove the others as far inside her as she could. She was definitely moaning, a constant low hum modulating in tone.

I wouldn't have heard Dad now if he had walked in the bedroom door. I began nibbling Mom's ass and covering her cheeks with love bites. I don't know why I started doing this but Mom seemed to really like it, judging from the sounds she was making.

I don't know when, but there as a point when I realized Mom had raised her hips, my fingers following, and was holding her ass up to let my rear fingers more easily push in and out of her. She was definitely loving the ass stuff now, her body couldn't lie. I started to work her ass more, using my pussy fingers to just hold her in place. I was kneeling beside her now, providing greater leverage for my assault on her behind, leaning in to drool more saliva down her ass crack as needed.

I expected her to panic when I shifted to kneel behind her but she didn't. Maybe she wasn't aware of my move, I don't know. Using my left hand, I pushed my sweatpants down off my ass, swinging my arm around to lift them off my dick which was stabbing straight up. Grasping my tool, I spit on it for good measure, pulled my fingers out of Mom to a desperate sounding 'ohhhh', lined it up and nudged it against her now yawning hole. My cock head slipped almost completely inside her, requiring only a slight push to pop the rest in.

"Ohhhhhhhhhuuuhhhhhhhhh," Mom moaned loudly.

"Unnnnggghhhhhhhh," she cried as I pushed all the way in, slowly, until my legs met hers.

I hoped to god my Dad had really left because there was no way in hell I could pull out now.

Out, I dragged my cock back, then the slow shove back in again.

"Ohhhhhhhhhuuuhhhhhhhhh," she moaned as I pulled out, and "Unnnnggghhhhhhhh," she grunted as I pushed back in. Over and over and over.

My hands were gripping the fleshiest part of her hips, holding her as I dragged my cock out and pulling her back as I drove it forward. I was getting carried away by the anarchy of her moans, pushing and pulling faster and faster as my cock slid through her forbidden ring, abandoning my movements to simple reactions to her sounds.

"Yeah," I grunted, "do you like that? Huh?"

I repeated that every thirty seconds or so, each time I put a little more ummphh into a thrust, making a point, ecstatic in the thrill of fucking her ass. I leaned heavily into her, collapsing her flat onto the bed, digging my cock in, pulling her head up to gasp in her ear.

"Do you like it? ... In your ass? ... Do you? ... Huh?"

My toes were digging in the mattress as I tried to leverage my cock farther and farther into her and, finally, to just hold myself in as I discharged jet after jet of searing hot cum between her cheeks, gasping my heart out.

We lay still.

I raised myself up on my knees, pulling my cock out, still quite hard, white goo dripping down in a long string to her open hole, filled with the same stuff. Fascinated, I spread her cheeks and pushed my cock back in, just inside, before pulling out again. Mom moaned, a desperate, needy moan. She hadn't come, she needed more. My cock hardened. I pushed in an out again, pausing to enjoy the sound I pulled from her throat and the pop of her asshole as it released my cock.

In, out, pause ... back in.

Gosh, how she seemed to love this slow ass fuck, like a steam train slowly gaining speed as it leaves the station, chug ... chug ... chug.

In and out faster now, but pausing for the same time to listen to the obligatory moan and sucking sound as my cock popped out of her ass. Back in but not far, getting a grunt now on the poke inside. Lovely, lovely. Cock fully hard again, messy with my own cum lubricating her ass, Mom lifting it up trying to get it inside her sooner.

Staying still now as Mom fucked her own ass on my cock, thrusting back, keeping herself impaled on my little pole, obviously loving it, loving my cock in her ass. She was really going now, leaping up from the mattress, shoving herself frantically back as she neared her orgasm, finally reaching it, yelling out loud, pushing with her arms to hold herself against my hips, wriggling her ass all over, reaming herself with my hardness. I pulled back when she collapsed on the bed, holding my cock tip just at her entrance, rubbing it back and forth across her hole until I came again, releasing a steady flow of white cream, filling her little hole and her crack.

Laying heavily on her back I whispered in her ear, "That's a new line Mom, there's no going back."

Mom was silent. There was no other response except for her heavy breathing. My cock lay embedded in the crack of her sticky bum. I was in no hurry to move.
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It was almost supper time. I was still having second thoughts about those photographs of Mom with her legs in the straps that I'd left for Paul to find. Now that I had renewed my chances with Mary, I didn't want him talk her into doing that for him. I wished to hell I hadn't left those damn pictures. Mary was just about to leave with Dad's tray when I entered the kitchen.

"Oh, hi beautiful," I greeted her, walking up behind to kiss her on the cheek as she completed her final preparation of Dad's dinner. "I'm glad I caught up with you, I wanted to ask you something." I slipped my hand around her waist, wanting to keep our recently renewed intimacy alive.

Mary flashed me a wonderful, welcoming smile. "Ask away," she said.

"I was hoping you'd let me take you out, for dinner or a movie, or, even better, both." I stood back, watching the surprise spread over Mary's face, almost shock.

"But, we can't," she stammered, "I'm so much older than you, it would look weird."

"No it wouldn't," I protested, "you look so young, it wouldn't look odd at all."

"But, I work for your Mom."

"Say yes, Mary. I want to take you out, on a date. I want to be out with you as a woman, away from here."

"I can't Dave."

"Yes you can. It won't interfere with what you're doing with Pau. I just want to talk over a nice dinner, to sit next to you at a movie, or a play if you like."

"I don't know."

"I do. Say yes. Just say yes."

Mary abruptly turned to face me square on, her face pink and flushed, happy, somehow making her look more womanly than I'd ever seen her. "Yes," she said, laughing, "yes."

I hugged her, pulled back, quickly kissed her on her lips, hugged her again, and then pulled back to engage her in a long, passionate kiss. I didn't try to touch her sexually at all. That kiss was enough, it was all I wanted.

"When?" I asked.

"This weekend," she answered. "we'll be free this weekend."

"Three more days. I don't know if I can wait. Where should we go?"

"Surprise me, Dave. And remember," she added, picking up the tray and walking away, "no matter what you decide, you can't disappoint me."

Mother called not long after that to say she'd be late again. I went out for a burger and returned to read more letters. My school work was starting to suffer but I just couldn't stay away from these letters, especially when I was about to spend a lonely night. I was glad to find an update from Jack (Chapter 12), that lucky school kid who had successfully played off the rivalry between his mom and her friend Carrie to freely feel them both up and to actually bang his mother. And right after that, she cried, realizing she had to go to confession the next Sunday. In less than a week, the priest would know she'd let her son fuck her, that she had actually encouraged him. It would be the end of her and Jack's world.
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Hello group. I have been a nervous wreck ever since I was brought crashing down from the highest point in my entire life, from vigorously fucking my Mom from behind, by my mother's words, "I have to go to confession next Sunday."

Strange ideas ran through my mind for two days. I could kidnap Mom and run away with her. I could commit suicide, or kill Mom, or both of us. None of these ideas, you can imagine, were satisfactory. Could Carrie help? She was Mom's best friend. If Mom would listen to anyone, it would be Carrie. Could Carrie convince Mom not to go to confession, or at least leave some significant details out? Could she convince Mom that she hadn't committed a sin?

Maybe. I resolved to try to enlist Carrie's help, and the best way to do it, I figured, would be to ensure that Mom's confession would involve her demise as well. She may as well be motivated I thought. I needed to get them together again.

Another strange thought struck me. One that I kind of liked. It seemed to me that if life was to end on Sunday, I might as well try to fuck Mom as much as I could until then. What would it matter if she got mad? But first, I would try to reason with her. After all, she seemed to really like getting it from behind. My Dad, I'm sure, had never treated her to anything but the stock, church sanctioned, missionary position. I decided to approach Mom with my thoughts that night and cursed myself with wasting a whole day and a half stressing out instead of shagging my Mom.

After dinner I helped Mom with the dishes but wasn't able to explain my ideas to her, partly because she didn't seem to want to listen, and partly because Dad kept wandering through the kitchen. I did manage to refresh the memory of our interlude in her room that Sunday afternoon and I could tell it excited her. After the dishes, Mom sat next to Dad on the couch and watched TV for half an hour, then got up to do laundry. I followed her downstairs a few minutes later.

I got ideas, I can tell you, watching her pull clothes from the washer and bend over to stuff them into the dryer. She hardly seemed interested in what I had to say, but her face and neck seemed flushed after talking about how nice it was to do it, and how she probably wouldn't ever have a chance to do it that way ever again after next Sunday. But she might have been just agitated, because she seemed to be getting cross, jamming clothes harder and harder into the dryer, and after starting the dryer, folding the warm clothes she'd just retrieved quickly rather than slowly and neatly in her usual fashion.

She seemed so agitated that I finally pinned her arms to her sides from behind and held her still until she leaned forward to place her elbows on the folding counter, hanging her head down.

"What is it you want, Jack? What do you want me to do? I have to confess. I have to."

Mom was very stressed. I tried to soothe her with my voice.

"I know, Mom. I'm not arguing that. But you can't confess until Sunday, and you can only pay the price once, don't you see?"

"No. I don't see."

"On Sunday, you have to pay the price for all the unconfessed sins that came before, right?"

"Yes."

"All of them at once, right?"

"Yes."

I slid my hands from her shoulders down her arms to hold her wrists, stepping close behind her, my jeans brushing her dress.

"From this moment right up to Sunday, right?"

"Yes."

I bumped myself into her behind, holding her wrists tight. My cock was already hard, bent into an uncomfortable bulge in my jeans that I pressed against against the softness of those gorgeous pear-like cheeks.

"The punishment is the same for what you've done, isn't it?" I ground myself into her.

"Yes."

I humped into her bottom several times.

"It doesn't matter how many times you commit the same sin, it can't get worse."

"That's right."

I hunched her butt, pushing her against the counter, spreading her legs by pressing her knees out with mine, grinding against her butt.

"Oh god, Jack. Stop it. I know what you're trying to do. It's not right."

Mom's voice went up and down in cadence in response to my thrusts against her behind. I was continually thrusting my bulge into her bum now.

"That's just it Mom. It's not right, right up to Sunday morning." Bump, bump, bump.

"Jack, no. Stop it."

"If you want me to stop, call him. Call Dad, Mom, if you want me to stop."

Mom fell silent, her head rocking forward as I continued to hump against her ass. I realized she wasn't going to call out, wasn't going to stop me.

"Remember, Mom? When I put you on your tummy?" I whispered.

"Jack, please stop."

I stopped.

I unbuckled my jeans and pushed them down to my knees, with my underwear, my cock springing forth like a weapon.

Mom stood still, leaning on her elbows, legs spread about two feet apart. Her breathing was uneven, even ragged. She sucked her breath in and held it when my hands grasped her hips and pulled her back a step, then pushed her back forward, forcing her to lean against the counter at a sharper angle. Immediately, my hands dropped to her hem and pulled her dress up over her hips, bunching around her waist and stuffing it between her tummy and the edge of the counter.

I marveled at the beauty of her ass, her panties only partly covering her prominent cheeks protruding, jutting, at a slightly outward angle away from her hips. Almost reluctantly, I tugged them down her thighs to her knees.

"Lift," I instructed.

Mom bent her knee to lift her foot, allowing me to pull the panty off, then repeated without instruction with the other foot. She replaced her feet in their spread position, and stood waiting.

I ran my right palm over my mouth, licking it and my fingers, then cupped her pussy from behind, rubbing my saliva over her cunt lips. I didn't wait, I pushed my cock forward until the tip hit her wetness and quickly shoved the head inside.

"Oh, god, Jack, oh god."

"That's right, Mom. Tell him how good it feels. Tell him how right it is."

I shoved in, all the way. I couldn't wait. I started fucking her hard right away, rocking her like a rag doll over the counter. She became very wet almost immediately and our fucking generating a loud slap, slap, slap racket that was thankfully covered by noise of the washer and dryer. Mom was grunting with every thrust. I don't know if it was from my frenetic pace or if she was really getting off on my cock slamming into her from behind. A little of both, I guess. It didn't matter, I loved it!

Spurt, spurt, spurt. I slowed down to grinding hunches as I empied my sperm into her, finally coming to a stop. Mom leaned right over onto the counter.

"Right until Sunday, Mom. I'm going to fuck you every chance I get."

I pulled my cock out and watched my semen trickle down the inside of her right thigh. God she looked hot, her hair wild, her legs tremblling, my cum dribbling down. I grabbed a bunch of stacked towels and threw them onto the laundry room floor, followed by a couple of sheets, then dragged Mom upright and gently laid her down on her back. Without delay, I kneeled between her legs, pushed them high and braced against my shoulders, feet on either side of my head, then leaned far forward, bending her almost double.

I aimed my cock and slipped it into her wet hole again, and used my hand to help shove it deeper. Grabbing a tit in each hand, I squeezed each firmly, the long distended nipples poking out through thumb and fingers. Then I started, another vigorous, strenous fuck. It wasn't long before our skin was slapping together loudly again but it was Mom's strained breathing that almost overwhelmed the sound of the machines. I fucked her hard, as hard as I could. She couldn't move on her own, she could only take what I gave. But when we were close again, near her second orgasm in half an hour, she craned her neck up and bit me on my chest. I don't know if it was the pain or the timing, but my cum burst up my rod and through my head, a geyser that took half a minute to empty into her shrine, her holy cunt.

For two or three minutes she kept her legs hooked around my neck and I gouged my cock into her every twenty seconds or so, reacting to spasms, jerking dregs of cum into her. At last, I stood, looking down at her on the floor, limbs akilter, seemingly exhausted.

"I don't know if I can take this until Sunday," she gasped, turning onto her side, breasts heaving and tummy, exposed because her dress was still pulled up way over her hips, pulsing with every gulp for air. As I watched, her hips twisted slightly forward, gracing my eyes with her ass once more, her beautiful cheeks creasing against the back of her thighs, a shadowy triangle forming where her thighs met.

Mom turned to look up at me, panting above her, her features configuring into surprise as she recognized the lust returning to my young face.

"No. Jack, you can't be serious," her words echoed her countenance.

"What?" I said, leaning down to grasp her ankle, pulling up to prevent her from completing the motion she initiatated as she tried to twist onto her back.

"No, Jack. It's not possible."

Mom tried to get onto her back, but her eyes were on my cock, lurching as it stiffened before her.

"What?" I asked again, grabbing her other ankle, pulling it up too, twisting her legs, turning her over onto her tummy.

"It's not natural."

Mom tried to raise herself on her hands so I shifted down, slipping her legs through my curled arms to her knees, holding her up like she used to do to me when I was little, playing wheelbarrow.

"Jack, don't."

My cock tingled as it bounced to full hardness. Impossible? Give me a break, I thought, gazing down as her ass, her parted legs, her pussy, wet and used, open, pink and ready. How could I not be hard again? Show me one eighteen year old who wouldn't have a raging boner looking at this.

"Feel it Mom," I panted, slipping my knob inside her, "its not natural." I grunted as I shoved my cock into her, feeling every millimeter of her soaking, gripping glove. "Holy fuck," I cried.

"Holy fuck," I grunted, again and again, crouched with knees bent, holding Mom's thighs splayed about my hips as I plunged my cock into her over and over.

"Holy fuck," I cried when I noticed Mom bend her knees, bringing her feet into view beside me, stretching her pussy to enhance the feel of my cock digging into her cunt, her toes curled right over. My hips started jackhammering at a furious pace. "Fuck ... fuck ... fuck," until I burst into her a third time, heard her wail through another orgasm, felt her spasm on my cock, lunging, slower now, stopping, slipping out of her, finally soft.

Gently, I lowered her knees to the ground. Hovering over her, I whispered, voice hoarse and ragged, "Not natural? That's what God's love should feel like."

As I stumbled upstairs, yanking my jeans up and cinching my belt, her words and mine played over in my head.

"It's not natural" ... "Holy fuck" ... "God's love"

That's it, I thought. That's the key. I could hardly wait to get to school tomorrow. To see my art teacher, the one with the tatoos.
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What was this all about? What was he up to? I couldn't find another letter from Jack, at least in my hurried search. I decided to try again after I settled down. Mom wasn't home yet so I reviewed the evening monitors for activity. I wished I hadn't. I found what Mary had meant by, "We'll be free by the weekend."
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