Incest/Taboo The Switch

Mom went upstairs with most of her stuff and had a long bath, then called me to ask if I could bring up some bags she had forgotten to take upstairs. When I entered her bedroom, she was sitting on her bed, wearing a terry cloth robe, and had her feet on a towel spread over the covers with spacers between her toes, ready to do her toenails.

"Oh, thanks Rob. Hey while you're here, help me pick out a nice color for my toes."

I was stuck. Mom showed me several colors and asked me to pick one. Then, she asked me to stay until it dried a bit to make sure it still looked good. So I sat on the bed and watched Mom paint her toes and looked at her legs which looked so fine fresh out of a hot bath. I kept wondering if she was wearing anything under the fluffy robe and became convinced she wasn't. I wondered if Mom had brought up the whole feet thing because she wanted to reward me for not spilling the beans on her and what she would think of it if she knew I was thinking about her being naked under her robe.

Although Mom did a perfect job on the first foot, she insisted she had made a mess of it and asked me to do the other one. Although the terry cloth robe was clasped demurely about Mom's knees, it gapped open under her thighs and I was treated to a wonderful vista for about ten minutes, not to mention the perfumed scent of her freshly washed skin. I found myself wondering how I could reinitiate our afternoon adventures rather than being thankful that they had stopped without me getting caught. Not only did I get a boner, my skin tingled now that I was convinced Mom was naked under a robe in such close proximity to me.

Mom's new blouses were form fitting affairs that were conservative in style but emphasized the feminine nature of her figure. The skirt she put on was heavily pleated and accented the sway of her hips when she walked. The outfit personified muted sexuality.

It was a Friday night and Dad was only home for a quick dinner. Despite that, I finished eating first and excused myself before heading for my room. I hadn't quite got to the top of the stairs when I heard Mom asking Dad, rather loudly, if he was coming home early.

"No, we need to start the inventory early so I'll actually be quite late tonight."

Yeah right, I thought. Is it Mrs. Omed or Jennifer, or have you started on someone new already?

"You're sure?" Mom asked. "I went shopping today was going to give you a fashion show."

Mom knew this would irk Dad because he always wanted her to get her clothes from the store where they could be purchased wholesale but Mom insisted on patronizing other stores with the excuse that would encourage them to reciprocate. The truth was, Mom didn't like the clothes in our store.

Dad held himself in check and answered in an even tone, "I'm sorry sweetheart, but the inventory has to get done."

"That's alright, I understand."

I had the distinct impression that the whole query had been for my benefit, that Mom was sending a signal to me that she wanted to be alone tonight, and this was confirmed by Mom's first question after I came back downstairs. She was sitting on the couch watching TV and I sat in Dad's chair to watch too. For some reason, teenaged rebelliousness no doubt, I wanted to make her specifically ask for time to indulge her dalliance.

"Are you going out tonight, Rob?"

That was another thing. Mom never called me 'Robbie' anymore, it was always 'Rob' now.

"Uh, I'm not sure. Why?"

"I was just wondering." There was a long pause, then Mom added, "I think your father might be coming home early so we can spend some time together." Mom kept her gaze fixed on the TV.

"Oh."

Even without overhearing her earlier conversation with Dad, I would have been able to tell Mom was lying. I didn't say anything more because I was thinking about how lousy Mom was at having an affair and she spoke before I could respond.

"I guess you can have the TV then because I think I'll go upstairs and read until your father comes home."

Mom got up and handed me the remote, then started for the stairs.

"Mom?"

"Yes?" She turned around.

"I think maybe I will go out. Do you mind?"

Mom smiled. "No, not at all. Will you be late?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay dear. Then I'll see you in the morning."

Mom came back and leaned over to give me a kiss on the forehead and I started to react the instant her jostling blouse hung in front of my face. I turned the TV off before Mom got to the top of the stairs so Mom would know I was leaving right away. I left shortly after and drove to my usual parking spot but sat there for almost an hour, thinking.

So Mom had figured out that Dad wasn't her surprise lover but she didn't know who it really was. How could she? Yet, she was still willing, even eager, to experience another visit. How did she know 'he' would come tonight? Did she suspect another merchant that knew her and Dad, or at least, someone who worked downtown and would know when Dad was working? It couldn't be someone from the store because Dad was the only male there but maybe it was someone's husband. Sure, maybe she knew about Dad's indiscretions and thought an injured husband was getting back at him.

I was quite eager when I crawled through my bedroom window and stripped off my clothes. I was now confident that I wasn't under suspicion. The hallway was dark and the downstairs lights were off too. Mom must have gone down after I left and turned them off. I crept down the hall and listened at Mom's open door. There were no "Mmmmm's" or DVD porno sounds coming from Mom's bedroom, only some softly playing classical music. The main light was turned off and the room was lit by the light of a single bedside lamp. Mom was lying on the bed, on top of the covers, dressed in the white terry cloth robe she had worn that afternoon while doing her toenails.

Mom was lying on her back! No camisole and half spread legs, no upturned, ready-for-action ass? She looked like she was ready to confront her secret lover, face to face. I peeked into the room again. Mom looked like she was actually sleeping. Ahhh, she was wearing the sleep mask. That was a good sign. Maybe she wasn't intending to confront her lover, but was it enough to gamble everything on?

Part of my mind told me to run back to my room but another part, driven by a far less rational engine, told me to get in there and give my mother, the woman I loved, what she needed and deserved.

I chickened out.

That's why I was so startled when my feet carried me into Mom's room while my mind was still telling me to run the whole time I came closer and closer to Mom's bed.

Her toes. I think that's what made me stay. Mom's legs, from the knees down anyway, looked like they had been lightly oiled and her toes glistened with a glossy black coating. I stood there, stark naked with my cock already hard and sticking out, and stared at Mom. If I was wrong, the sleeping mask could be swept up on her forehead before I could move a muscle and I would be doomed.

I stepped close to the bed and tentatively touched Mom's toes. She barely flinched so I knew she was expecting someone, but who? The only way for her to know was to remove the mask. Or was it?

Mom might want sex regardless of who was here and she actually prefer not to know who it was. Maybe she was lying on her back simply because she was tired of taking it from behind, or didn't want to get it in the ass.

I grazed my fingertips down from Mom`s toes along the top of each foot, around her ankles to the side of her inner heels, and scratched up the center of her soles. I was pleased when Mom turned her feet outward to make it easier for me to touch the bottom of her feet and wiggled to settle herself deeper in the mattress. She gave no indication that she wanted to remove her mask.

I tickled Mom`s feet for a while, then moved up to caress her lower legs. When it was time to move above her knees I thought about opening her legs to make room for me to climb on the bed but changed my mind and crawled up with my knees straddling her legs. Parting Mom's legs would be an overtly sexual act and I wanted to maintain an air of innocence for a while for the benefit of my blindfolded mother. I was learning that anticipation was a large part of sexual enjoyment, something I don't think my father yet knew.

I fluttered my fingers over Mom's lower thighs as delicately as I could. As I moved higher, the front of the robe parted, exposing more and more of her upper legs. When I reached the thicker part of Mom's thighs, my fingers couldn't progress but Mom smiled and opened her legs enough to allow access. I pushed my open hands between Mom's legs, caressing the softest skin on her body. Sensing the heat from her nearby pussy, my cock hardened into steel and the tip fluttered with sensations as if I was touching it instead of Mom's inner thighs.

Mom wasn't wearing any panties and I noticed that her pussy had been completely shaved. I reversed my hands and grazed the top of my fingernails near the sides of Mom's bald pussy and then traced the crease leading to her hips, pushing the robe apart before me. The robe was hindered by the belt so I undid the knot holding it and parted the robe to reveal Mom's bare breasts. Her nipples were trembling with more excitement than her slightly enhanced breath indicated she was experiencing.

Taking each between the finger and thumb of each hand, I stretched my knees out behind me and lowered my face until I was able to suck Mom's pubic lips into my mouth. My tongue found her groove and plowed up through her slit, wiggling from side to side on the backswing. I lapped through Mom's slit for several minutes, remembering to pull lightly on her nipples. Gradually, Mom's responses to my mouth increased in intensity and when the tip of my tongue found her inner hole on a gentle upswing of her hips, I pushed it deep inside.

"Ohhhhhhh Godddd!" Mom cried, twisting her hips and lunging against my face.

I teased Mom for ages with my lips and tongue. I had watched many porno flicks on the Internet and noticed that the actors only licked a woman for a few minutes before climbing aboard to satisfy themselves. Instead, I took Mom through to a complete orgasm and for the first time experienced the joy of an ecstatic woman clutching my head and uncontrollably grinding her pussy on my face, a woman totally abandoned to an all-consuming orgasm.

After Mom settled back into the bed, I crawled atop her body and kissed her full on the lips. Within seconds, we were locked in the most intense necking session I had ever experienced. Mom showed me what kissing was all about.

I was so engrossed that I didn't realize until the act was accomplished that Mom's arms had curled about my neck, her legs were wrapped around my waist, and her heels were digging into my ass. My cock skidded repeatedly over Mom's wet pussy and, with a deft movement of her hips, the head slipped inside Mom's pussy.

"Make love to me," Mom whispered as soon as my mouth pulled away from hers.

I panicked and tried to pull away but Mom, legs tightening and feet pressing into my ass, lifted herself up with me and my action only served to deepen the penetration of my cock into its maternal home. The sensation was exquisite. Her walls molded to my shaft and slid past it, a pulsing coat of moist heat.

"Love me, baby," Mom cried.

Deeper, deeper, until I was all the way in and I felt Mom's pussy lips pressing against my pelvis, gripping the root of my incredibly hard cock.

"Ohhhhhh baby, you're so big. I need it, I need you. Fuck me, please fuck me."

Mom's hips were moving, humping up against my weight, forcing me even deeper within her womb. Her hand was moving through my hair while the other scratched my back and her arms held me so tight there was little choice but to do what she said.

"Ohhhh yeah, fuck me, baby," Mom whimpered.

I gave in. My hips started moving, succumbing to her urgency and superseding it with my own, driving her harder and harder.

"Oh yes, do it hard," Mom urged. "I love it, love it."

I lost myself within her, throwing off all constraint in a frenzied fuck, pounding and pounding, amazed that I wasn't coming, thrusting harder and harder, wondering why she wasn't complaining and trying to slow me down instead of urging me on, faster and faster, whispering in my ear, saying nothing, just moaning and grunting with me.

When I finally came, Mom lowered her legs and locked them around the back of my thighs. As I strained my muscles, flexing my body against hers, still grunting my bliss and pouring my liquid pleasure within her, Mom ensured that not a single drop escaped capture.

"Fill me baby," she rasped several times in quick succession.

We enjoyed a long, languid kiss when I had recaptured my breath and then I pulled away, holding her hands in mine until they slipped away. I backed out of the room, watching Mom, less afraid of her removing the mask than not wanting to tear my eyes away from her sated body until the last moment.
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The next morning Mom filled my plate with pancakes before serving Dad and my glass was filled with juice before his coffee was served. Dad didn't notice but I did. Mom didn't speak to me any differently, nor were her interactions abnormal, other than serving me first. Yet, there was something that made me hyper aware of her. It was a sexual awareness so intense it felt like a physical presence but Mom hadn't made any overt movements nor did she strike any suggestive poses. If a camera had recorded the scene, I'm sure there would have been no visual evidence of inappropriate behavior. But something had triggered my awareness and, even though I couldn't put my finger on it, I knew it was there. Since I couldn't point to anything specific, I assumed it was simply a side-effect of the afterglow from Mom's visit the previous evening and possibly her subliminal appreciation of my part in making it happen, that is, making myself scarce.

After Dad left Mom went upstairs. Fifteen minutes later she was back, wearing a different outfit. Though subdued, it modeled her figure very well and its rather conservative lines heightened rather than diminished her sexuality. I knew then that Mom knew I was aware that she was having an affair and that even though my tacit support wasn't openly acknowledged, it was appreciated. It was interesting that the way Mom chose to show her appreciation was to dress nicely, even seductively, for me. Besides looking physically attractive, Mom appeared fresh-faced, alive, and full of zest.

"You look very nice, Mom. Are you going somewhere special?"

"Just out with some friends for lunch and a little shopping."

"Oh. Well, have a good time."

"I will, and speaking of that, are you going out again tonight?"

I didn't hesitate, "Yes," I replied.

"Oh, that's too bad. I was hoping you could help your father so he could get away to come home earlier tonight."

"Sorry Mom."

She smiled. "Not to worry. He might be able to get away. He said he'd try anyway."

That night, after our first fuck, which I tried to make tender and gentle, and failed again due to Mom's urging, I pushed her legs up and bent then back onto her chest before entering her for a second fuck. I straddled her haunches and dug in deep, triggering an answering grunt that wasn't entirely unappreciative.

"Oohhh, you're so big tonight," she cooed.

I loved that Mom said that, and I loved the way her body bounced off the bed after we had struck our rhythm, impaling her pussy upon my cock, and I loved the sound of our thighs slapping so noisily together they nearly drowned out our love sounds.

The third fuck was slow and gentle, a fuck both intense and restrained, full of tender touches and kissing, a fuck that really was making love and, when I finally reached orgasm, emptying my milk into Mom's womb was an extended affair.

That was probably the best Saturday night of my life.
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The next day was Sunday so there was no opportunity substitute myself for a supposed lover's visit since the store was closed. However, Mom was especially attentive to me all morning and when she asked me to drive her to the mall to do some shopping I agreed right away although there wasn't anything wrong with her car. In fact, we drove there in it.

I had thought Mom was going grocery shopping and wanted help carrying the bags so when she drove past the grocery store I thought she just wanted to get the food last, which made sense. Mom browsed through a ton of stores. Normally, I would have been quite impatient but I simply tagged along, happy to be with her. I had ample opportunity, toddling along behind, to watch Mom's supple figure moving enticingly under her summer dress.

Mom browsed through several clothing stores but only tried on two things, a brown dress and a navy blue skirt. She emerged from the dressing room in the dress to check herself out in the mirror, preened about without comment and returned, presumably to try on the skirt next. A minute later, Mom called me to the fitting room door and, after asking if anyone was out there but me and hearing my negative reply, she opened the door.

"What do you think? Is it nice?"

Mom had replaced the dress with the navy blue skirt and was wearing only a bra on top. I guess since Mom had worn a dress into the store, she couldn't come out to see what it looked like in the mirror. I was tongue-tied but Mom ignored my predicament, twisting her hips this way and that to model the skirt.

"How does it hang?" she asked, turning half around.

Recovering quickly, I gave serious attention to the way the skirt hung over Mom's behind and said it looked great.

"Do you think I should get it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, thanks."

Mom closed the door. She bought the skirt but not the dress and we continued shopping. The funny thing was, although the incident could be seen as provocative it could also be interpreted as completely innocent. I had seen Mom in her bra before and had certainly seen her often in two-piece bathing suits. However, given what had been going on in our house, I interpreted the incident as anything but innocent which both thrilled and unnerved me. It added weight to my theory that Mom's interludes had put her in a heightened state of sexuality and thus she hadn't given a second thought to the fact that she wasn't wearing a blouse when she asked me about the skirt. It was, in fact, an innocent act.

My thoughts, however, were anything but. I racked my brain for an excuse to be with Mom that night but came up empty. I may have been distracted by the expanse of crossed leg that Mom managed to display as sipped her coffee when we stopped to have a snack. I was the only one able to witness the show except for the one man who walked by us to use the washroom. He made it quite obvious that turning his head was well worth the effort. Mom didn't look at him but smiled at me when he looked at her. It sent my insides aflutter that Mom knew what she was doing, was aware of the effect it had on the man, and wasn't bothered that I witnessed it. Nor did she cover up her legs then or afterwards.

We visited a few more stores and then returned to the car. Mom waited for me to open the door for her instead of simply unlocking it remotely with the key chain. I clued in after a few seconds and ran around to let her in and was glad I did when she treated me to a wonderful look at her thighs as she dipped to get into the car. Again, I asked myself if that was done on purpose or if it was simply unavoidable when getting into a car in a tight dress. I hadn't been on that side of the car when we left the house, so I didn't know. I drove around to the grocery store but Mom said she was tired of shopping and wanted to go home.​