Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories

I was sorry to see Mom turn away and slip out from under the covers. I watched her get out of bed and turn to pick up her robe, raising it so she could slip her hands through the sleeves. I was elated when she paused then lowered it, folding it over her forearm, holding it in front of her, below her breasts.

"Do you have other movies on there?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Show me what you've got in your movie folder," she said, putting her knee up to lean it on the bed.

I was evasive in my response, "We can play any DVD in here."

"I want to watch one of your movies," she insisted.

I opened the folder, hoping I didn't have anything too embarrassing there. I couldn't remember because it had been a long time since I'd downloaded a movie, other than the one we'd just watched.

Mom crawled across the bed as I opened the folder, turning the laptop slightly so she could see it better. Still, she had to lean forward to see, affording me a tremendous view of her breasts, jutting against her nightdress as their weight fell forward. I completely forgot to look at the list of movie files, my attention was riveted on her chest, and the two nipples stabbing through her nightdress.

I could almost feel the blood draining from my head in a rush to fill my cock. I felt faint. I finally realized that her nightdress sported a large gap because of her forward leaning position and I could see her left tit hanging off her chest, the smooth curve of the bottom as it protruded sending an electric tingle ripping through me.

"Oh, there's lots. What's this one about?" she asked, pointing at the screen.

"That's ... oh, that's ... uh ...," I stammered, starting to blush.

"Probably something you don't want to watch with your mother, right?" Mom laughed at me.

"Well, uh ...,"

"That's ok. Don't blush." Mom leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. "We'll just pick another one for tomorrow, but don't delete it, don't delete any of them. Promise?"

"I promise."

Mom tousled my hair and gave me another kiss on my cheek. Then she crawled off the bed, but off the end rather than the side. I had a nice long look at her bum, and a last look at her breasts as they stretched up against the material when she pulled her robe on.

"Nighty night," Mom said, like she used to when she tucked me in so long ago.

I dreamt a lot that night and the next day dragged on forever at school. I rushed home hoping to learn that Dad was off on another business trip, but no such luck. I hung around in my room, hoping Mom would come downstairs but she didn't so I went upstairs to watch some TV with her and Dad. After the movie and the late news, Mom and Dad went to bed. Sulking, I dragged my ass downstairs and went to bed. I couldn't help fiddling with myself and turned the light back on, dragging my laptop over to watch that movie Mom had picked out.

Christ, most of the movie were porn movies. Only a few were action flicks, some war movies and westerns. I was just thinking about deleting some of them, and was trying to remember which one she had picked out just in case she remembered, when I noticed her out of the corner of my eye, silently padding on bare feet toward me. She was carrying a bottle of wine and one glass.

"Are you picking out a movie?" she asked as she neared the bed, stooping over to set bottle and glass on the bedside table by me. She looked at the screen, still bent over, and opened her robe, preparing to peel it off her shoulders. She had on a nightie this time rather than a nightdress and it only covered her to her knees, showing her nice legs. It sported a diving neckline as well and I wondered if all Mom's night clothes were like that, or did she wear them for my father, at least in the old days? It had the same lace border and I could see her skin beneath the material proper, it was so thin, especially the dark spots surrounding her nipples.

"Isn't it pretty," she asked.

I was stunned. I had been staring, not realizing she had stopped looking at the screen.

"It used to be one of Dad's favorites," she said.

Mom pulled the robe from her shoulders, slipped it off her arms and turned to throw it on the chair behind her. When she turned back, she pinched the hem mid-way down her thighs and pulled the material a couple of inches from her legs, then curtsied, legs held together demurely. It was stunning. Aside from being shorter, the neckline was actually cut much deeper.

"Fun, isn't it?" her voice tinkled.

I watched closely as she bent to pour herself a glass of wine, enjoying the show.

"You can share with me, can't you?" she asked. "I don't think Dad would appreciate me encouraging you to drink. For such a partier," she added, "he's sure become a stick-in-the-mud."

Mom waltzed around the end of the bed, and slid under the covers, and immediately cozied up to sit beside me, fluffing pillows to prop up behind her.

"Pass me the wine before you start."

I passed her the wine and asked her which movie.

"You pick," she replied, sipping her wine.

I chose 'Unforgiven' and started it.

"Can you pour me another glass, honey?" Mom asked, just as Clint and Morgan caught up to the kid.

I poured the glass and handed it to her.

"Have some," she said. "I insist."

I took a drink.

"More," she said, "you have to catch up to me."

I downed the glass and turned to refill it.

"Oooohhhh, what a man," Mom teased, laughing.

After taking the glass, she said, "Let's watch something else."

I killed the movie. "Which one," I asked, nodding at the list.

"That one," she pointed, selecting the one she'd teased me about last night.

"Mom," I complained.

"Oh, come on. You're grown up now. Don't be a stick-in-the-mud like your Dad. Ooops," she cried, covering her mouth with her free hand, "I shouldn't talk so loud."

"Is Dad still awake?" I asked.

"I don't think so. Still we'd better be quiet. Start the movie."

It was a porn movie. It was pretty graphic right from the start, so I stopped it after a couple of minutes, feeling very awkward.

"Pretty gross, wasn't it," Mom said, though she didn't seem to be put out with me. "I guess you can't really tell until you download them, can you?"

I shook my head.

"Let's try one of these," she pointed to a couple of titles. "They've got older women in them, don't they?"

I nodded.

"That's what Mature and MILF mean, isn't it?"

I nodded again.

"See, your Mom isn't a dinosaur."

Mom held the wine glass to my lips. I took a sip and another when she held it there.

"No, wait. What's in this folder?"

Now, I didn't want to look in that folder, but I was stuck. I opened the folder titled 'ms'.

There were a dozen movies in the folder and it was immediately clear they were mom and son videos. They were all amateur. I hadn't watched them for probably a couple of years. I tried not to look at Mom but she wasn't looking at me. She seemed fascinated with the titles.

"This one," she said. "Play this one."

As I opened the file, Mom leaned across me, stretching to grab the wine bottle from the side table. Her breasts scraped on my chest, reminding me how little she was wearing. She placed the glass to my lips again. I took a big gulp, draining half the glass. Mom laughed, perhaps a little nervously, and drained the rest. She leaned forward to fill it again, pausing to let me have another sip. I took another large gulp, though not half the glass, and she sat back in the pillows to watch the movie which had now started.

It was clearly amateur quality. It just showed an older woman and a very young guy, my age, moving about in a kitchen aimlessly. However, whenever they passed near, he would touch her, her shoulder, her waist, her ass, the side of her tits.

"Wow," Mom said. "She really is old enough to be his mother. I thought she would be just an actress acting older, but they look real."

I simply nodded, too freaked out to speak. Mom sipped her wine, watching as the young guy started to kiss the older woman, his mother I suppose, on her cheek, then her neck, finally pulling her around for a long bout of french kissing. Belatedly, the mother and son looked toward the kitchen door, implying someone was there they had to worry about, but that didn't stop him from working her back until she was pressed against the counter.

Mom drained her glass and handed it to me. I filled it and handed it back as she sat staring at the screen. She waved it off, so I drank it and put the glass down. The guy had her turtle neck pulled up to bare a large set of tits and was squeezing and rubbing them as he kissed her, once in a while leaning down to take one into his mouth.

I worked myself back in the pillows, scrunching down in the bed. As if on cue, Mom slid down and turned toward me into the position she had so enjoyably assumed last night with her arm behind my back. Her head was laying higher on my shoulder and she had it turned down more to face the screen.

I curled my hand around to stroke her shoulder just as the guy dropped to his knees in front of his mother, turned to look at the kitchen doorway again, then flipped her skirt up and dove underneath. Mom's arm tensed behind my back and she slid her other hand up to rest my stomach, as she had the night before. We watched the guy's head move underneath the woman's knee length skirt, not needing any explanation of what he was doing. The woman's head was lolling back in ecstasy, her eyes closed, her hands on his head holding him in place.

Mom's foot slid on top of my calf and then completely over, her heel pulling against my leg. I felt her press against my hip. Her heat was incredible, even through her panties. I could feel Mom's breathing increasing through the pressure of her breasts on my chest. I lengthened the stroke of my hand on her shoulder, pressing in to flick my fingers lightly up her neck and around to her throat, then back along her shoulder, dipping into the hollow below her clavicle, before sliding down her arm, dragging my fingers up the sensitive backside.

I did this the whole four minutes the guy was licking his mother but I didn't make my biggest move until he reappeared, stood, turned the woman around and pushed her forward over the counter, shoved his pants down, bent his knees, and straightened up in a bold surge between his mother's open legs. He started moving into her vigorously, right away.

On the outward stroke, I dragged the shoulder of Mom's nightie out, and down over her arm, pushing it to her elbow. Mom didn't seem to know what I'd done. She was mesmerized by the action on the screen. On each stroke down Mom's arm, I stretched my fingers out, trying to drag the front of the nightie down to expose more of her breast. As it was, the nightie was now barely covering her left tit, its edge hanging just above her nipple.

Mom pressed harder against my hip as the speaker relayed the sound of the man's pelvis slapping against the backside of the woman, now leaning flat on the counter as his paced quickened to cum mode. It wouldn't be long now. What would Mom do when it finished, and she realized I'd pushed her nightie off her shoulder trying to bare her breast?

Both the man and the woman began to moan loudly. Here it comes, I thought. He had slowed but was bursting into her with long, hard lunges. Suddenly, his legs straightened, the muscles tensing with strain as he bulged his cock into her as deep as he could, lifting her feet right off the floor. He slumped against her, jerking into her every few seconds until they were finally still. Then they both fixed their clothes and began doing things in different parts of the kitchen, just before an older man with silver hair entered the room, speaking cheerily, both of them replying in the same way.

"Wow," Mom said. "That was something."

"Sorry, Mom."

"Sorry? Don't be sorry, that was great. Is there more?" she asked, just as another scene started up with a different older woman and younger man.

"You don't have to watch this, Mom."

"I want to. It's more interesting than that other one."

Mom settled into the watch the next scene. The ramp up was much longer than the first, pull you in scene. The glances, flashes, voyeurism, touches and kisses were much more subtle, taking place in a number of places and over a longer period of screen life. It was much more realistic. I tried my darnedest to slip that nightie off her tit but couldn't manage it. I must have been glued on there. Just as it was about to get into the more explicit sexual activities, Mom turned her face up to me.

"Can you start this one over, honey?"

I nodded and restarted the scene. Mom kissed my cheek, then rested her head on my shoulder, watching me. Abruptly, she leaned forward and kissed me on my ear.

"Thank you, sweetie," she whispered, and kissed me again. "I'm so glad you can be this comfortable with me, to share this with me." She kissed my ear again but this time it felt like she dipped her tongue in after finishing her kiss, just barely. It was very arousing. She turned back to the movie.

She watched the preliminary build up with the same intensity as she had the first time. Her pelvis was warm on my hip and I imagined that it felt damp, not just hot. I tickled her arm, neck and shoulder the whole time but I gave up on trying to get the nightie off her breast.

Just as the sex part was about to begin, Mom spoke, "Here comes the action."

She lifted her head from my shoulder and curled her hand up to pinch her nightie between her fingers. Well, I couldn't get it off anyway I thought. At least she's pretending it's an accident and not giving me what for. She pulled the nightie, flapping it back and forth, breaking its clinging hold on her body to let cooler air in. I peeked when the nightie was lifted away from her breast, momentarily glimpsing it in its bare state. Mom let it rest after a couple of dozen flaps.

"Whew, this stuff is making me warm."

Mom sank back to rest on my chest and I resumed stroking her arm, shoulder and neck. Thankfully, and to my surprise, she hadn't pulled the nightie back onto her shoulder. While Mom concentrated on the movie, I was more interested in caressing her. I diverted my gaze to enjoy her charms since they might be covered up the next time she rearranged her nightie. The surprise I found there caused me to lurch against the laptop as my guy reacted before my brain could finish processing the information impinging on my retinas.

I hadn't tried to snag Mom's nightie but it had fallen slightly, enough for me to see the top part of her nipple. The material around the nipple was loose, not tight like it had been when I was trying to dislodge it. Mom must have loosened it when she was flapping it around. Craning my neck so I could look over Mom's head, I saw that the sleeve of the nightie had slipped down to the underside of her elbow. Maybe I could move it down her forearm. If so, it would loosen on the front and might even slip down her enough to show her whole nipple.

I stroked a few times the entire length from Mom's neck to her elbow, then returned just up to her shoulder, focusing between there and her elbow, my fingers caressing the back of her arm which I considered to be a sensual area. Cautiously, I slid my hand past her elbow a couple of inches, enough to push the sleeve down her forearm another inch. Mom was still fascinated by the movie and didn't give any indication that she was paying attention to what I was doing. The sex on the screen was getting pretty intense but I was far more excited about Mom than the movie.

I managed to push the nightie along another inch but I couldn't reach farther than that. The nightie hadn't loosened any more around her breast, showing the same amount of nipple. Why didn't it just fall off? I was getting frustrated.

Then I had a brilliant idea: pull her arm back. Immediately, I slipped my hand down to cup her elbow and hugged Mom to me.

"Enjoying the movie?"

"Yes," Mom whispered, her voice low and excited.

Hearing her like that made me even more excited. I released the upward pressure on her elbow, loosening my hug, but managed to pull back on her arm. I craned my neck to see. It had moved! The nightie was now a third of the way down her forearm.

I pulled Mom's elbow up again, kissing the top of her head as I hugged her, "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, sweetie," Mom replied kind of automatically, her attention still riveted on the laptop.

That was ok by me. I let her elbow fall and tried to pull her arm back even farther this time. Stretching to see over her head, I was delighted to find the nightie down to her wrist. Leaning the other way to check her front, I was disappointed to see no further progress there. What to do?

The second scene ended with a huge cum followed by intimate cuddling by mother and son. I thought they were going to start right way again since the mom kept playing with his largish dick but then it faded out. I grasped Mom's forearm to discourage her from moving it back onto my stomach but there was no need. She seemed content to wait patiently for the next scene to start. Maybe she was more than happy for us to be lost in our own thoughts in this situation.

The new couple was a very attractive boy about my age and a similarly hot mom. I could physically feel Mom's concentration. She really seemed to like the slow build up, the first awareness by both mother and son followed by each one intentionally flirting but not acknowledging what was really going on. In this scene, the first overtly sexual act happened when the mom, sitting in her robe at the kitchen table reading a magazine and sipping coffee, asked her sleepy son who had just entered to pour her more coffee. She was holding the cup out for him to take it but he brought the coffee pot over to her.

She set the cup down while he poured the coffee slowly into the cup, glancing up to flash him a brief smile of thanks before looking down again at her magazine. But a look of shock crossed her face for an instant, and you could see her look down to check herself before her eyes moved on to the magazine. Her son's attention hadn't been on the coffee, he was looking down her front, exposed by her open robe and deep cut, sexy nightie.

Of course, this happened slower than one might have expected in real life to make sure the audience caught on to the mom's quandary. The next move was clever. Although she had been drinking her coffee black, the mom asked her son to put some cream in for her, without raising her eyes. When the son turned to replace the coffee pot and get some cream from the fridge, which you could hear opening and closing, the mother slipped her non-coffee hand up and quickly pulled her nightie off and to the side of her right breast, and then slid her coffee hand over to cover the top of the cup. The son returned and immediately noticed her bare breast, indicated by a focus on his face followed by a close-up of her fine feminine specimen. He stood there, waiting to pour the cream but not saying anything, just staring at his mother's breast. Eventually, she removed her hand to allow him to pour the cream, but not until further close-ups showed how rigid her nipple had become. When the son left shortly after without having any breakfast, presumably to go wank himself as he clearly needed to -- they showed something large trying to poke through the front of his pajamas, and his mother noticing it as he walked by -- the mom engaged in behaviors clearly indicating that she was shocked by her own actions.

It wasn't lost on me that movie-mom had just bared her breast for her son by pulling her nightie off her breast, something I had been trying to do for half an hour, at least. Perhaps spurred into action by this, I slid Mom's arm right back out of the nightie and pulled her hand up to kiss it.

"I love you, Mom."

"So do I dear," Mom's reply was as distracted as the last time I'd told her that a few minutes ago, her attention on the breakfast scene presumably the next morning.

This time the son picked up his mom's cup as he walked by, filled it and added cream, then returned to set it down in front of her, asking if she minded if he read along because it looked interesting. The mom hadn't moved her nightie aside to bare her breast. The deed was already done. The mom nodded and the son stood ogling her dangling tit. He sat down after a while, continuing to stare at her, enjoying the sideways angle with its better appreciation of how much his mother's tit stuck out.

Carefully, I set Mom's hand down, moving it back into its original position resting on my stomach before I had slipped it out of her nightie. I tried to scrape the nightie forward in an attempt to dislodge it from her breast -- yes, the stubborn thing still clung there -- but without success. Nevertheless, Mom's hand was free of the nightie on her left side and, who knows, when she got up she might not realize it and I would see her tit hang out just like in the movie.

Then the son in the movie did something that is one of the reasons I'll never forget that movie. He put his finger on the magazine, tracing along as if he was reading, moving his finger slowly to the bottom of the page nearest him. His mother was supposedly reading the other page though the audience realized she was just looking the other way to let her son ogle her tit. But the bottom of the magazine had been pushed to the edge of the table, and her robe blocked the bottom few lines of text on the son's page. When his finger traced down as far as he could see, he used that excuse to pull the lapel of her robe out of the way but his fingers caught the nightie as well and dragged it off her one covered breast. Close-ups showed both the mom and the son being aware that this was happening, but neither acted like they knew.

The son returned his finger to the page to resume tracing the text. A roof shot camera angle showed his finger approach the bottom of the page where it contacted the mother's bare breast, and stopped. A long moment followed, the camera remaining on the shot, before you could see the son's hand flip over so his knuckles lay flat on the magazine and then slide under his mother's tit, his fingers curling up to close on it. The mom continued reading as if nothing was happening.

My courage once again buttressed by the make believe world, I moved my hand to Mom's upper arm, sliding it up and down, fingers curled around her biceps, gently squeezing and following the curve of her muscle. I changed to an open-handed rub, stretching my fingers out and, seemingly by accident, allowed my fingertips to catch Mom's nightie and knock it off her breast. I was ecstatic watching it fall from the height of her nipple to the floor of her tummy below. Her whole tit was bare to me now, just like in the movie, and, as in the movie, Mom acted like nothing had happened at all. The elation in my mind was only surpassed by the tingle that was running up and down my sperm tube, jolting it into a spear under the laptop instead of a longbow.

On the screen, the fingers began to slowly knead the mom's breast. It was hard to tell at first if there really was movement, but intense scrutiny confirmed it. Soon, there was no mistaking it. He was fondling her tit and she was letting him as if it wasn't happening though clearly she knew. How could I do that? How could I possibly get away with it? Mom would know. It wasn't reasonable to think that a movie could be replayed in real life. Or could it?

Of course Mom would know, but did that mean she had to acknowledge it? Couldn't she pretend it wasn't happening just like in the movie? She'd let me push her nightie to bare her tit and hadn't reacted at all. Did I really think she didn't know? Come on, you chickenshit, I thought, she put her tongue in your ear. You can feel her pussy on your leg, and it's hot. She wants you to do it but she can't let you know, and maybe she can't admit it if you do, but she'll let you.

It all made sense. I could do it. But I was scared. I don't think I'd been more scared to do something in all my life. I was still thinking about this and wondering how I would do it, just grab her? Then, without volition, my hand just slid forward off her arm and onto her tummy, surprising me. My hand wasn't on her bare skin, it lay on the nightie I had just pushed off her breast. I was almost in shock at what I had done and suddenly felt that I must explain myself.

"Mom," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Shhhhh," Mom whispered, her eyes intent on the now active breast massage on the screen.

"I ..."

"Shhhhhh," Mom leaned forward, peering even more intently at the screen.

But the bottom of her breast now brushed the edge of my hand, right at the crux of my thumb and fingers. Again, without thinking about what I was doing, without intending to act, I simply turned my hand to cup Mom's breast.

I had my answer. Mom didn't react at all. Her breath seemed to quicken and her hips pressed harder against my leg, but only for a few seconds. I was holding her breast and Mom was acting like we were just watching a movie. It was like I was suspended in a slice of time, Mom watching the video and me just holding her tit.

Then, as if regaining the ability to act, like Tom Hanks recovering from nearby explosions in Saving Private Ryan, I started to massage Mom's breast just like in the movie. I began the way the son had started, so you could almost not tell anything was happening, but I knew. I'm not sure if Mom did but I knew she would in a minute. I lagged behind the movie.

By the time the son moved his fingers up to pinch and flick his mother's nipple, even stroke its extended length, it was clear that I was manipulating Mom's breast, my fingers clutching its sides to pull it into my palm, then squeezing so I could watch her nipple push out, releasing, and starting over.

Mom loosed a small gasp, whether in reaction to my now over massage, or because the son was now pinching the mom's nipple between thumb and forefinger and stretching it up and out over the kitchen table. Or maybe she was gasping in response to a future event because she knew, as did I, that in less than a minute my fingers would seek out her nipple and within two it too would be pinched and tugged like that. My cock straightened again under the laptop and at the same time I felt Mom press herself harder against my leg.

Like a self fulfilling prophecy, my fingers gradually slipped up to bracket Mom's nipple, once or twice, then more often, finally staying to tweak it, sometimes pulling away only to flick by it, bending it over and letting it spring back. I wanted to take it into my mouth. Why didn't that kid start sucking his mom's tit? Could I get away with that? Would she let me go that far? No way. She couldn't pretend that wasn't happening.

Mom's panties suddenly mashed against my leg. I jerked my eyes up to the screen. He had turned his mom toward him a little, sacrificing pretense, and had taken both tits into his hands. His eyes were on her legs and the panties peeking out below her nightie. Keeping up his manipulation of her breasts, the son pushed his knee between his mother's legs and moved the left one out, opening her legs and her panties to his eyes.

I took that moment to grasp Mom's nipple firmly and tug it away, squeezing it in a rolling action between thumb and forefinger just like the guy in the movie had done. He had dropped one hand to quickly flip her nightie up to her hips and returned to massage both breasts, his eyes, and the close-ups, now on his mom's panties.

Mom's head suddenly swung up and she kissed me, missing my cheek where I think she intended to kiss me and hitting my jawbone, then quickly shifting up to kiss my ear, her tongue swirling inside. Just as quickly, she turned back to watch the movie.

She had leaned into me to turn her head up, pulling her breast away from my hand, but she hadn't twisted back to her original position and I now couldn't get hold of her tit since it was pressed against my chest. Without pausing or thinking, perhaps because of my desperate need to regain possession of the breast I had worked so hard to hold, I simply released the laptop and slid that hand between our chests and gripped her tit firmly, as if to stop it from slipping away again. Again, there was no acknowledgement that I was doing anything wrong, and certainly no argument. I just renewed my breast massage with a fresh hand.

The laptop was rocking precariously on my boner and definitely would have fallen off my lap but Mom quickly moved her hand to grab it, holding it steady so she could watch, just in time to see the son drop his right hand from his mother's tit and let it fall to the kitchen chair between her legs, palm up. The camera zoomed in to show his hand laying like a large penis pointing to the apex of his mom's legs. The fingers twitched. Was that Mom that groaned, or the mom on the video?

Mesmerized myself, I didn't really pay attention as my left hand, now free, moved down Mom's back, outside her nightie but under the cover, down along her spine to the small of her back, pressing her in toward my leg. The hand in the video spread its fingers which were close enough that their tips grazed the inside of his mom's thighs, on that softest part right at the edge of her panties.

It was Mom. At least both. Stronger than a soft moan, more of a groan.

I pulled Mom's nightie up, bunching it in that hollow at the base of her spine and then let my own fingers splay out, stretching down from where my palm rested at the top of her buttock, searching and finding the edge of her panties, in the back not the front, and at the top, not the bottom; well, so to speak.

I couldn't afford to keep lagging much behind the video. When the screen fingers closed together and the hand moved forward, touching and then sliding under the panties, I pushed mine down too, finding the gap between the waistband of the panties and the groove in Mom's ass, half way down her cheeks.

As Mom groaned along with the moans of the mom on the video, in time to the son's hand moving back and forth under the panties, I pried Mom's panties over her cheeks, pushing the waistband down to stretch across the bottom of her ass. I gently fondled her bare cheeks, sliding my hands around, and pressing her against me.

Belatedly thinking about her tit, I realized that I now simply held her nipple in a gentle squeeze between thumb and finger, alternating between slowly tugging it back and forth and rolling it between my pincers.
​