Incest/Taboo The Switch

That night, Mom wore her new skirt. We sat for quite a while watching TV while Dad read before Mom switched to a book too. Another long period went by before Mom changed the position of her legs and folded them underneath herself, stretching her left foot out on the couch toward me. Even though I was into one of my favorite shows, I was aware of its proximity. It stopped just short of my leg but a moment or two later, Mom's foot poked me just above the knee. I reached out to still her annoying foot.

I didn't intend to rub her foot and wasn't aware of quite when I started. I happened to notice during a commercial when I looked down to see my fingers wrapped around the top of Mom's foot and my thumb rubbing her instep in a small circle. As I watched, my thumb began scratching a firmer path the length of Mom's foot. This continued for several minutes until Mom changed pages and lifted the book from her lap as she shifted her weight to make herself more comfortable. Although she pulled her foot away to do this, it soon returned and shortly thereafter, I resumed my deliberate massage of her sole.

Mom's toes started scratching the side of my leg. Just once at first and then again a minute later. I kept rubbing her foot and her toes scratched my leg more often. After a bit, I looked at Mom, thinking she might be trying to catch my attention without saying anything, but she was intently focused on her book. Mine, however, became riveted on Mom's skirt, or rather, where it should have been. The wide hem of the pleated skirt had swept up onto Mom's leg, exposing almost the entire expanse of the underside of her thigh though the top, visible from Dad's perspective, was properly covered.

I couldn't believe it. Mom's toes scratched my leg again and I was convinced she had both uncovered her thigh and poked me on purpose but the way she continued reading, oblivious of all around her, produced doubts and I became convinced it was simply another innocent accident, just like the incident in the dressing room. I extended the reach of my thumb to tickle the underside of Mom's toes and she shifted her leg slightly so that her thigh twisted up, exposing even more leg and even providing a glimpse of her panties.

It must have been fifteen minutes later that I became aware of Mom looking at me. I raised my eyes to meet hers, too far gone to be self-conscious about being caught in my obvious adoration. Mom was smiling, not a teasing smile, but one that was faint and hard to interpret.

"Would you like some tea and cookies for a snack?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

Mom's smile widened and she put her book on the arm of the couch. As she got up the skirt fell over her legs and I was left wondering if the whole incident had even happened, a raging boner the only evidence that it really had. Nothing else happened that night. When Mom returned with tea and snacks, she didn't lift her foot back onto the couch and, consequently, there was no further display of her leg.

The next day Mom was less attentive to me, switching her appreciation to Dad who arrived downstairs sooner than me. This made me think that I was right in believing her previous consideration was the result of heightened sexual awareness generated from her lover's visits, that the attention to me or to Dad was the result of guilt, and the target was simply whoever was nearest at the time.

That morning I helped Mom with the grocery shopping and was treated to a leggy display both getting in and out of the car. After lunch at home I told Mom I had to go out for the afternoon. I parked the car in the usual place and sneaked into my room, undressed, and crept down the hall to peek into Mom's room.

She was lying on her back again but this time was naked except for the sleeping mask. Approaching confidently without fear that Mom would open her eyes, I knelt on the floor at the end of the bed. There, I breathed quietly on the soles of Mom's feet for a couple of minutes. Her breath immediately became more shallow, as if anticipating an imminent action and her toes, now painted in a coral color, curled in appreciation. Delicately, I stretched out my tongue and traced the sole of her right foot from heel to toes and then ran the tip sideways along the crease at the base of her toes.

Knowing Mom expected me to repeat the caress on the other foot, I stood, leaned over, and kissed the inside of Mom's left leg just below the knee. She moved her knees apart in surprise and I used the opportunity to shift her feet wider apart. Lowering my face close to her pelvis, I breathed on Mom's pussy the same way I had breathed on her foot.

This time, I made Mom wait longer before flicking my tongue out to find and trace the groove between her lips, then flicked sideways several times before piercing through to her inner sanctum. Mom opened her legs wider in anticipation of an imminent munching episode but instead I crawled over her and held myself in push-up ready stance, hovering over the full length of Mom's body.

I lowered myself until my chest was brushing Mom's nipples and arched my back so the tip of my cock dangled onto her mound. Holding myself there was difficult but Mom eventually realized I was waiting for her to react. Lifting her ass, Mom searched for and found my cock with her open slit and pushed until the head slipped into her cunt.

Still, I held my ground. Slowly, Mom starting fucking, pushing her hips up until my entire shaft was embedded within her. I held my ground and Mom started flexing her hips up and down in a steady rhythm. Her hands soon flattened under her ass, palms up, to assist her lift. We fucked like that until we were both gasping with pleasure and Mom additionally with effort.

At last, I took pity on her, scooped her legs up by threading my elbows under her knees and pushed them back onto her chest, then started a very serious, pounding fuck. Mom was very wet and the lovely sound of wet, slapping flesh filled the room. When I came, I remained deep within Mom's pussy and, for her part, she twisted around until she wrung every drop out of me. I collapsed on top of her and lay still, panting, until I could breathe normally. We fucked again about half an hour later and then I left.

Every day that week, I visited Mom in the afternoon for similar fucks and twice, on Thursday and Friday, I also visited her at night, taking her twice from behind. I wasn't so surprised by my stamina, having masturbated nightly for years, but I was by Mom's. I read up on it on the Internet and found that it wasn't abnormal for a mature woman to be capable of having sex daily, especially if she hadn't been very active for a long period.

Strangely, Mom reverted to not paying much attention to me, or to Dad, and the foot game was not re-enacted.
​

- - - - - - - - - - -​

On Saturday afternoon, I visited Mom again. I hadn't expected to have the opportunity until the evening but Mom took the lead.

"I'm feeling a little tired, Rob. I think I'll go upstairs for a nap," she announced.

"Oh, sure, okay Mom," I responded.

Mom turned half way up the stairs. "If your father comes home, could let him know I'm having a nap?"

"Uh, I'm going out Mom. Maybe I'll go down to the store to see if I can help out."

"Oh. Would you mind leaving him a note then in case he misses you?"

"Sure."

Mom went upstairs and I sat downstairs pondering my options. Clearly, Mom wasn't expecting Dad and since I had convinced myself that she knew that I knew something was going on, this was her signal that her lover was coming and I should leave.

Could I really wait for a while and slip upstairs for a quickie, again pretending to be her lover? I couldn't make up my mind but in the end horniness won the day. I opened and closed the door, then sat for another ten minutes. Instead of going through the motions of moving the car and sneaking into my room, I simply opened and closed the door again, then crept up the stairs and peeked into Mom's bedroom. Sure enough, there she was, nude, lying on her back with legs open and knees already bent and lifted. She was ready to be eaten or fucked and probably in that order.

I continued to my room, doffed my clothes, and returned to the hallway. For some reason, it struck me that I should be using a condom but I hadn't up to that point, so what was the point? Mom must be taking care of that because she seemed eager to soak up all my jism. She must have some idea of who she thought her lover was, and that he was fixed and therefore probably married and not requiring precautions, because otherwise the consequences were dire.

A sinking feeling overwhelmed me, leaving me light in the head, and I almost fell against the wall. Returning to my bedroom, I found the rubber in the back of my drawer that I had bought a couple of years earlier, unnecessarily of course, for my first date with Margaret Wenton. I put it on, somewhat surprised that it didn't disintegrate from age. Suitably armed, I turned back toward Mom's bedroom, intent on completing my mission.

I gave Mom's feet a damn good licking before dragging my tongue leisurely up her legs. My fingers held her nipples as I sank my tongue deep between her lips and started lapping up her effluent. Throughout all my prior experimentation, I had found that Mom liked to be lapped. I kept it up, eventually used a finger to assist, until Mom reached her first orgasm. I had also found that Mom was more pliable if I first ate her out without hurrying.

Climbing aboard, I crawled over Mom's chest and pushed my cock into her waiting mouth. Taking my time, I slowly began fucking her face as I adjusted the pillow behind her head to keep it up at a conducive angle. Several times I almost displaced the sleeping mask and once Mom beat me to it to push it back into place. This had happened earlier in the week and as a result I was no longer anxious about getting caught. When I was close to coming, I pulled out of Mom's mouth and slid down her body. She was already lifting her legs and holding them where it was easy for me to grab and push them onto her chest, rolling her butt up toward me so I could easily enter and pound on her pussy. Mom already knew what I, or 'her lover', liked.

About fifteen minutes later, I was finished and had almost recovered my breath when Mom tried to twist around onto her tummy. I lifted my weight so she could move, then settled onto her ass. My cock had embedded itself in her crack and, despite my recent orgasm, began to get interested again. It had been a long time since the one time Mom had let me in her ass. I had begun to think it had been a one-time opportunity but the way she was nudging back at my slowly stiffening cock, I started to hope that maybe it was simply a rare event.

Soon, we were rubbing each other in mini-fuck movements and my cock was definitely hard and ready. I pulled it back until it slid off Mom's crack and then pushed it into her waiting, very wet pussy. Once inside, I started moving to and fro in very slow thrusts, secure in the knowledge that we both understood this was simply a primer and the big event would be a visit to the dark side. Man, I was so happy I had decided to come upstairs.

That's when everything changed.

Without breaking the slow rhythm we had settled into, Mom got up onto her elbows—which was easy because I had lifted up to brace myself on my arms and watch my cock moving in and out of Mom—reached under the pillow on the other side of the bed, and pulled out her cell phone. As I watched, stunned, she flipped the phone open at the same time she used her other hand to pull the mask off her head.

I was hovering, braced above Mom, my cock deep in her from behind, and she was selecting a number to call. Amazingly, I didn't stop fucking her. I don't know if it was self-preservation, knowing that changing anything would call attention to me, or what. But my cock kept moving slowly in and out.

I recognized the number. She was calling the store!

Shit! Was she calling to check up on me? Why the fuck had I said I was going to the fucking store? Mom shook her head and lifted the phone to her ear. I heard the person answering quite clearly.

"Mr. Horlock, please," Mom responded.

"Just a moment, Mrs. Horlock.

Mom waited. I kept moving within her, my past flashing before my eyes.

"Yes?" barked my father.

I almost had a heart attack. Dad was obviously on the phone but his voice, so near, made it seem he was physically present, and able to see who was...

"Hello dear. I was just wondering if you wanted steak for dinner or fish?"

"Lisa, I'm very... uh, actually, I'm going to be late again tonight. Sorry."

"That's okay dear. Would you like me to keep something warm for you?"

"Uh, no. I'll get something, have something brought in."

"Okay dear. Bye."

"Lisa?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you this weekend."

"Oh that's alright dear. Rob will look after me. By now."

I almost choked on those words and I certainly missed a stroke.

"Bye," Dad's voice sounded more distant, as if he was already hanging up.

I heard Dad's chair swivel around, a sound I had become a familiar with, and the phone clattered onto the receiver on his desk. Mom put her cell phone on the bed but left it open. I could hear sounds coming from the phone. Dad had evidently not hung up the phone properly and the clatter I'd heard was likely it falling off the cradle. However, Dad must have already turned around in his chair because I'm sure he wouldn't have said what he did next if he knew the line was still open.

"Come on, get your mouth back on it."

My eyes almost bugged out of my head.

"That's it baby. See, you're getting the hang of it. Take it deep...hold it, hold it..."

There was a pop and a loud gasping for air.

"Yeah baby. I can't give you Christmas off but you can have the whole week after Thanksgiving."

There was a muffled, unintelligible sound.

"I thought you'd like that. I usually only let the Moms have Thanksgiving off but you do this so well...yeah, hold it, hold it, hold it, fantastic...oh yeah!"

There was a louder popping sound and a more desperate grasp for air. Dad had found someone new.

Mom lowered her head onto the mattress and reached behind herself. She inched forward, dislodging herself from my cock and pulled her cheeks apart with both hands. I stared at the little whole, open to the size of a penny, already greased and ready to go.

Mom had planned this!

I pushed the tip of my cock into Mom's well-lubed bunghole and pushed. It sank inside easily but I waited for her ass to accommodate my bulk anyway. While listening to Dad getting his cock sucked, I slowly pushed my throbbing shaft into Mom's asshole. Her hands had returned to press palm down beside her shoulders and she turned to face the open cell phone just as I reached full depth. At that moment, Mom spoke directly at her phone in full voice as if I was across the room.

"I never let your father in my ass, so fuck it good."

There was no response from the cell phone other than the sound of Dad getting blown. Mom laughed and I started moving slowly in and out. I loved being in her tight ass but this was incredible. What a feeling, listening to Dad getting blown, watching my Mom catching him red-handed while she broadcast letting someone taking her in the ass. Could it get better than that?

Yes, actually it could. That someone was me, his son, her son, and she had obviously known all along it was me. Her laugh had relieved the shock of her revelation, that and the feel of her ass pulling on my cock. I did my best to make this the best fuck Mom had ever had. I don't know if I succeeded—it sounded like I didn't do too bad—but I hoped I did well enough.

A little fear niggled at my brain, that I wouldn't be able to keep Mom interested without the excitement of not knowing who was doing her, but I would have to worry about that later. Right now, there was a serious ass underneath me begging for more and Mom was moaning loudly, pulling the pillow over her head, and ignoring the phone like it didn't matter anymore. She was mine.

After we had finished, we showered together and went downstairs for dinner. Mom cooked a steak which we ate with baked potatoes and brussel sprouts, topped with a nice Merlot. We didn't leave anything for Dad. After dinner, we settled in to watch a movie together, cuddling on the couch. Just after the movie started Mom turned to me.

"Did you really think, Robert, that I would believe your father could take me three times in one night?"

She laughed, probably because she could see in my face that the thought that he couldn't hadn't occurred to me, as it wouldn't to any teenager. I imagine that I also looked like I thought I was still in trouble.

"Don't worry, I'm hardly going to tell your father, now am I, and anyway, isn't it obvious he never listens to me?"

We had a good belly laugh at that one. Sitting close together as we were, the laughter initiated tremors and that started things going again. We went upstairs.
​

- - - - - - - - - -​

On Monday, I had sex with Mom as soon as Dad was out the door. He was still in the driveway when I lifted her skirt and entered her from behind, unable to slip her panties aside because she wasn't wearing any. The rest of that week taught me something new: older women can be very, very horny, and quite insatiable.

Our relationship grew from that point on and it was almost as if she and I were the couple and Dad was the third party. Dad continued spending most of his time at the store which left lots of time for Mom and I to be together, becoming more in tune with each other every day, and not just sexually. We often drove to the next town where we could be together without being recognized, if not unnoticed because of our age disparity. Life was good.

Then one of the women at the store quit and brought forth a complaint against Dad. At first, he weathered it by denigrating her and accusing her of theft but then a former employee added her own complaint, and another current employee joined the chorus, and then another. The publicity wrought a drop in sales with each new complaint and the legal bills, though initially nominal, threatened to become onerous.

Dad pretended there wasn't a problem and acted as if he was completely innocent, expressing anger that his generosity as an employer was met with such ingratitude. He was in complete denial and refused to believe the drop in sales was in any way related to the issue because 'his customers' would know the accusations were false. In the end, he handled the problem in his own way: he had a stroke, and that changed everything.

At first, it was an emotional shock because, despite his self-serving, abusive behavior he was still my father. Moreover, his constant presence in the house made it difficult for Mom and I to be together but that eventually changed. Since Dad seemed to be unaware of his surroundings, I took his place in Mom's bed and we put him in my room. If he was downstairs—we had a lift installed to let a wheelchair traverse the stairs—and the mood struck us, we simply wheeled him into another room. Dad wasn't capable of telling anyone even if he was aware and, let's face it, he wasn't exactly an innocent bystander. Once, we got carried away before wheeling Dad away and something about him convinced me that he knew what was happening but couldn't respond. Fuck him.

Through this three month period the store was managed by Mrs. Omed but despite her best efforts sales continued to slide and layoffs were imminent. In addition, the legal problems were steadily progressing and were definitely not in our favor. Something had to be done.

Mom and I returned to the store, she as manager and I as an assistant to Mrs. Omed. Our return had an amazing and unexpectedly positive effect, not because Mrs. Omed wasn't a competent manager, because she was, but due to a story printed in the local newspaper that changed everything. The editor of the paper, a personal friend of Mrs. Omed's, painted a picture of a beleaguered woman trying to save a business that was dying through no fault of her own. One of the complainants currently working at the store—the lawyer had strongly advised Dad not to fire them—stepped forward to plead with the public to help Mom because she was a victim of my heinous father too. It was none other than sweet, gentle Jennifer.

Everything changed within a week. Business was brisk, Jennifer dropped her complaint, and so did the other employees. A little later, the former employees also dropped their suits when it became plain that public favor had swung to the store because the financial hardship would fall upon Mom rather than my father.

We were able to afford a full time caretaker for Dad instead of leaving him at home alone: one of his former victims—I'm sure he was well taken care of while we were working at the store. Eventually, sales superseded previous records and Mom returned home but still kept the caretaker. I took Mom's place as nominal manager at the store but with the able assistance of Mrs. Omed as the new sales manager. The store became a real family business and I often came home—I never worked late—accompanied by Jennifer and sometimes Mrs. Omed.

But that's a different story.
​