Tales of Mothers and Sonson August 18, 2013
Ok, so you fancy your Mum.
Come on admit it, you want to touch her, examine her breasts, and maybe even get her into your bed! Maybe she’s fat, maybe she’s ugly (or maybe she’s incredibly attractive), maybe she’s middle-aged or old, but whatever she’s like she’s your Mum and she’s special to you in a way you can’t explain, and you’d really like to get your hands on her.
Perhaps these desires are a sudden revelation or maybe you’ve always felt this way. There are probably a multitude of deep psychological reasons why you have these feelings, but the bottom line is you have this nagging incestuous itch that won’t go away … and one small (and perverted) part of your head is obsessed with scratching it. Ultimately you want to have a sexual relationship with your own Mother.
So here you are reading my text in the hope of picking up some ideas. You know full well the idea of having sex with your own Mother is an impossible non-starter. It’s a dark place in your mind you should never have visited, and it’s far better left murky and unexplored. But then you see the title of this story and some devious little neuron in a demonic part of your brain thinks ‘maybe’ … well maybe there’s something here that might open a chink of light into that evil darkness.
Well you may be right, but before we start left me give you some warnings.
First, incest has consequences. I mean it’s immoral, it’s illegal, and it’s socially taboo. If you’re not arrested and thrown into prison for 50 years (after having a Dumas-style Iron Mask clamped around your head), you’ll certainly be shunned and ostracised from your community. Even worse, if you’re religious you stand a good chance of rotting in hell for the rest of eternity just for reading this article (and it’s no good pretending it was an accident. God knows what you’re thinking you know, and you won’t get away with a ‘hey man, I was just surfing the Net and this page suddenly popped up!’).
Second, even thinking about getting your mother into bed will change your relationship with her forever (but then if you’re reading this it’s probably already too late for that).
Third, I accept NO responsibility whatsoever for any outcomes that may arise from the thoughts herein presented. You might get lucky and put one over on your mum, but you might also get your balls chopped off or something worse (like being cut out of her Will!).
So read on at your own risk!!
Ok, let’s assume your soul is damned and you don’t give a shit about consequences and you’re morally bereft (in other words a normal 21st century male). Let’s also assume there’s something about your Mum which makes your balls glow in the dark in a way even you know they shouldn’t. But how on earth can you tell her … I mean she’s your Mum for God’s sake!? How can you engineer a situation where something could or even ‘might’ happen?
Well, ignoring for a moment less plausible options (such as Hypnosis or Mind-Control), I’m going to present a number of scenarios as to how my (imaginary) characters set about solving the problem. Each character will adopt a different theme or strategy which their story will explore. Space prevents me from examining more than a few themes, although I am sure there are many approaches (and indeed I invite readers to send me their suggestions), but these seem to me the most practical.
I assume from the outset that each ‘son’ (for reasons I won’t go too deeply into) has a yearning to seduce his Mother and has adopted a specific ploy to achieve his goal. As far as possible in the context of what are meant to be entertaining stories, I will attempt to outline each of the strategies employed.
In this first part I will look at two ‘strategies’. Hopefully (if I ever get around to it – NO promises!), I will subsequently offer a further two approaches
Enough said … on with my tales.
The Drunken Mum
Jason’s Mother was 51 and always looked like she was pregnant. She wasn’t exactly fat but with a stomach that bugled outwards (as if ripe with child), she did a pretty good impression. Thankfully she had enormous breasts which stuck out beyond her tummy and tended to hide (or rather distract attention away from) her large belly. Indeed her breasts were her main feature, of which she was duly proud, and she made no attempt to hide them or disguise their size. In fact when not at work she always tended to wear lacy see-through blouses which revealed (to the attentive observer) two huge white prominences. These prominences were the full cups of a regulation but old-fashioned white brassiere which confined and controlled her massive mammaries. Each cup had polyester bands around it, decreasing in size until they disappeared into the nipple area, giving the whole construction an air of powerful engineering and making the device appear similar to a 1950′s Bullet-Bra. I’m not sure if she realised it but the slightly-chiffon view of that gargantuan bra, proudly doing its job of lifting and separating her substantial tits, was almost as erotic as her unclothed naked breasts might have been.
When she was at work (at a local bakery) she wore a white cotton uniform dress that was plain and unassuming. However as this dress was buttoned at the front, her large breasts had the effect of pulling the area between the button-holes apart, and if you stood side-on (to her left side) you could plainly see the mountainous curve of her bra through the gap. When home from work she sometimes left her uniform on, and if the buttons pulled apart (as they sometimes did) she never worried too much about reconnecting them.
All this meant poor Jason could never entirely escape the temptation (or indeed the opportunity) to scrutinize his Mother’s chest.
At 19 Jason was unemployed and spent most of his daytime bumming around the house. At some point his boring life led him to his mother’s underwear draw. Her brassieres fascinated him and he often spent time holding the cups in his hand and imagining what they might feel like if they were full. Eventually he took to masturbating over them, either with a bra in his hand or wrapped around his penis. He fantasised about fondling his Mother’s breasts through the bra, and indeed of removing the bra and seeing what glories lay underneath. Inevitably over time his fantasies became cruder and more daring, and slowly and inexorably led him to notion of actually trying to find a way to ‘cop a feel’ of his Mother’s wonderful tits.
Given the circumstances of his Mother’s lifestyle this did not seem as impossible as one might imagine. His father was a shift-worker at the local car factory and often worked nights at the weekend. On these nights his Mother frequently went out with the girls ‘pubbing and clubbing’, only to reappear around two a.m. in various stages of intoxication. Moreover Jason has twice seen her emerging not from a taxi but from the car of some unknown male. He was convinced that on such nights she ‘let her hair down’ so to speak, and maybe even got herself laid. But he never said anything to anyone, maybe even back then instinctively knowing that such information may be useful one day.
So a plot was hatched…
One Friday night (when his dad was at work) he would wait up for his Mother to come home, and if she were sufficiently drunk, then he would exaggerate the level of his own intoxication and try his luck at fondling his Mother’s tits. I say ‘exaggerate’ his level of drunkenness but Jason knew full well he’d have to be pretty far gone to have the guts to try such a thing. I mean it was scary prospect, trying it on with your own Mother … even if she was a bit of a tart.
Eventually after several false starts, where uncertainty as to as to whether his mother was actually drunk enough made him chicken out, the fateful night arrived. It was nearly three in the morning when his mum arrived home, drunkenly stumbling from a car Jason didn’t recognise. She was so far gone she needed the driver, a large coloured man, to help her to the front door and insert the key in the lock for her. He then slipped quickly away and the car roared off down the street.
Arriving at the front hall Jason heard his mother muttering curses at the driver for being so noisy, and then whispering ‘fuck!’ after half-falling over the doormat.
“Eyo Mum,” he said in greeting, as his mother tried to close the door silently behind her.
She spun round, tripping on her own feet and almost falling over, and stared at Jason.
She seemed shocked and a little unnerved by his sudden appearance. She also had a distinctly guilty air.
“Sshould be in bed,” she mumbled at him.
“I’z late,” he said grinning at her. “Too much booze …’ish same with you by the looks of it”. He’d had a skinful but Jason was nevertheless pretending to be more intoxicated than he actually was.
Jason’s mother looked distinctly the worse for wear. She stood there in the hallway swaying slightly, her arms a little apart as if to steady herself. Her eyes were glazed, her mouth hung open, and her head was hanging down as if she didn’t quite have the strength to lift it back up off her shoulders. She looked at Jason and grunted.
“I’z give you hand upstairs if you like?” he said as slurrily as he could.
His mother shook her head and waved a hand at him as if to say she was fine, but then she fell heavily against the wall as she tried to get her coat off.
“Here…” he said grabbing her arm and steadying her. She seemed reluctant to let him help remove her coat, but as she was clearly in no state to do it alone she finally accepted his aid.
In the dim light of the hall Jason was slightly shocked to see how revealing his mother’s dress was as he pulled the coat off her arm. Given she was showing a cleavage deep enough to sink a battleship in, he was convinced now she really had been out on the pull. It seemed the perfect invitation to start his plan.
“Wow Mum,” he said drunkenly, “nice dress. So … umm … revealing!”
Ignoring the comment his Mother turned and stumbled towards the bottom of the stairs. Stealing up behind Jason slipped his arm round her waist and made to help her up the staircase. Forcing her bloodshot eyes to focus intently on Jason for a moment, she seemed about to spurn his offer of help, but then she just nodded and whispered “thanksh”, and started to attempt to negotiate the first step.
For the first few moments his mother seemed able to manage the stairs, and all Jason could do was lay his hand on her back to prevent her falling backwards down the staircase. But then she missed a step and staggered down on one knee. Taking his chance Jason slipped his hand down and round under her chest as if to stop her collapsing, then as she regained her footing and mounted the next step, he left his hand where it was nudging up against the bottom of her breasts.
Slowly and with increasing difficulty she dragged herself up each step and with every movement Jason let his hand ride further and further up the underside of her bra, until by the last few steps he was actually holding the bottom half of her right tit. Although ostensibly helping his mother up the stairs, part of Jason’s mind was revelling in the feel of her breast under his hand. It was the first time he’d ever fully touched one of his mother’s tits and it felt wonderfully firm and yet yielding.
As his mum struggled hesitantly with each step, her chest pushed back and forward against his hand, and he could not help himself from exaggerating the movement by gently squeezing her tit every time she leaned forward. But then she seemed to notice where he was holding her and she tried half-heartedly to use her forearm to push his hand back down to her waist.
Jason was happy for the moment to permit his groping to be seen as accidental and he allowed his hand to be pushed away. He even whispered sorry in his mother’s ear and muttered something about it being hard work getting up the stairs. But then as they reached the top of the stairs it was clear his mother wanted to disentangle herself from her son. Instinctively he resisted and steered them both towards his mother’s bedroom door.
“We need to get you into bed Mum,” he said softly. “Wouldn’t want dad finding you in a heap in the hall now would we.”
For a moment his mother tried half-heartedly to remove his hand from her waist, but then she relented and let herself be guided into the bedroom. Dragging her to the edge of the bed Jason let his mother fall heavily down on to the bed and then, as if he were caught up with her in some way, he let himself fall down on top of her. Given their combined weights the bed shuddered and creaked noisily as they bounced up and down for a moment, and then Jason founding himself lying on top of his mother with his face right down between her enormous bosoms.
“Man,” he whispered softly, “You got a great pair of boobs Mum.”
To Jason’s great surprise and delight his mother actually laughed when he complimented her breasts.
“Naughty boy,” she giggled. “My boobs are none of your bus … bus-ness.”
She sounded too drunk to care what was happening, and as he was still laying half on top of her with his face almost buried in her yawning cleavage, Jason felt able to push ahead with his own agenda. He slid his hands up and wrapped themselves round both of her breasts.
“Oh yer…” he whispered as his fingers tightened around his mothers massive mammaries, “now that’s what I call tits!”
For a moment nothing happened, and Jason just lay there on top of his mother fondling her breasts while she stared at him through foggy blood-shot disbelieving eyes. Indeed it wasn’t until his hands began to slide down her cleavage and under the low-cut bra supporting her dress that his mother seemed to react at all.
But then she exploded!
“What the fuck you t’ink you’re doing!” she screamed, struggling at the same time to turn over and throw Jason from chest. “Ger off me you fucking little creep!”
With Jason now lying beside her on the bed, his mother struggled to lift herself up on one elbow. Her face was an odd combination of drunken confusion and desperate anger. “How … How dare yer do that,” she spluttered at Jason.
But Jason just smiled casually at her, trying to make his face look not quite with-it, as if he were so intoxicated he didn’t really know what he was doing. He’d half-expected this reaction and was again playing his strategy of alternating between retreat and attack.
“Ssorry Mumsy,” he said slurrily. “Couldn’t stop myshelf … I mean your tits are so big and so cuddly. It just sort of happened.”
Somewhat mollified and too drunk to bother chasing the issue, Jason’s mother just shook her head and let out a low hissing sigh. She lay back on the bed and waved a hand at Jason as if indicating for him to leave.
But he didn’t go and instead lifted his face up close to his Mother’s and whispered in a half-joking half-drunken manner, “Sure you don’t wantz a hand to get out that dress?”
For a moment Jason thought she was going to explode again, but she didn’t. Instead she just giggled once more. “Yersh a naughty boy!” she said again. “You juz want to get yer hands on mummy’s titties, don’t yer? Yersh a dirty little boy!”
His mother seemed to find the whole situation suddenly funny, and she lay there on the bed shaking with silent drunken laughter. As her body shook in unexplained merriment, Jason watched her breasts wobble and roll like enormous hills in an earthquake. His fumbling at her chest had almost pulled one tit free from its constraints and he stared fascinated as one large dark nipple peeped enticingly out from under her dress. As she laughed the nipple danced up and down, now hidden, now revealed.
Still focussing on the dancing nipple he answered his mum almost without thinking.
“Oh God yer Mum, I’d really really like to feel your tits … just this once.”
Abruptly realizing what he’d said Jason steeled himself for the coming explosion, but nothing happened. Instead his mother was silent and still for a moment. Then she turned and looked hard at Jason, her face intense and screwed up as if she were trying to process or understand what he’d said. He held his breath and waited to see what would happen.
For what seemed an interminable period Jason’s mother just looked at him, and drunk though she was he could see from her expression that cogs and levers were clicking over in her brain. Then abruptly the beginnings of a smile began to play around her lips. She shook her head at him and whispered, “Whash a naughty boy you are”.
Then she turned over on the bed presenting her back to Jason and said softly “unzip me”. Needing no second invitation he quickly pulled the zip right down and helped his mother slip from her dress. Still facing away from him she indicated for Jason to undo the back of her bra. With trembling fingers he obeyed.
Then she pulled her bra off her body and turned to face him, her large bosom rolling out before his eyes. For a moment she watched him staring at her suddenly revealed breasts, and then in a surprisingly gentle movement she cupped the back of his head in her hand and lowered his face down towards her chest. Lifting one nipple between her fingers she offered it up to Jason’s lips.
“Yersh want to suckle mummy’s boob?” she said, still drunkenly but with uncharacteristic kindness and gentleness.
Jason opened his lips and accepted her offering with unbelieving gratitude. Carefully he began to suck at her nipple, drawing more and more of her ample breast into his mouth.
His mother lay her head down on the pillow and closed her eyes. “Ahh ‘at’s nice,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Yersh can feel my tits as much as you want. I’sh going to sleep now so enjoy.”
As Jason reached his hand up to engulf and squeezed his mother’s other breast, she patted him softly on the head. “But be gone ‘afore yer Dad gets ‘ome though won’t yer,” she breathed softly in his ear. “My treasures are yours tonight, but just this once yersh understand … just this once.”
And with those words she slipped away into a deep slumber, leaving Jason to enjoy her naked chest fully exposed and revealed before him. He lifted his head from her nipple and buried his face deep down between her breasts, his hands tingling with joy as they began their task of feeling over every atom of her tits.
That was the only time his mother allowed Jason to touch her breasts, but it was what Jason had always wanted and it turned out to be the most memorable night of his whole life.
2.The Persistent Son
David had always been a shy boy and nothing he did seemed to change that. Even now, at 22 years old and after two years at University, he was uncomfortable and awkward with girls. He avoided pubs and hated parties, and almost any social situation made him feel anxious and distressed. Long ago he had labelled himself as a ‘social phobic’ but he had no explanation as to why he alone should suffer this terrible affliction. Indeed he was entirely baffled as to his own condition … that is until he discovered Freud.
He was studying Psychology at university and the topic for the current semester was Psychoanalysis. As a preparatory reading all students were told to read Freud’s ‘Introductory Lectures’ and Jason dutifully attacked what he imagined would be a dry and dusty tome no longer relevant in today’s world, but by the time he was halfway through he had unexpectedly begun to understand the source of his own dilemma.
Put crudely Freud says ‘every boy wants to get rid of his father and bang the life out of his mum … that’s the way it is man, it’s part of growing up so deal with it!’ But Freud also argues that many psychological problems arise because some people get ‘stuck’ in what should be a transient stage of development. An individual’s unconscious sexual urges, initially focussed on the mother (for boys), instead of being naturally projected forward on to all women are unnaturally suppressed, and this can lead on to neurosis.
For David this analysis was a revelation. In a ‘eureka moment’ he saw how his own fear of women was actually a fear of incest, how student parties and informal social gatherings were times when social inhibitions tend to be reduced or even abandoned, and how scary this must be for someone who was struggling to resist his own unconscious desires. He understood all this because he suddenly saw how the factors in his own life had led to this situation. Put in simple terms he had got ‘too close’ to his mother, and now becoming aroused in the presence of any women was dangerous and had to be resisted … as it had had to be resisted in the presence of his own mother.
David’s Father had died when he was 14 and his Mother had found coping with the loss of her strong and loving husband too much for her. She had become despondent and depressed and turned to her only son for emotional support. Worse she also turned to alcohol to deaden her grief and by the time he was 18 David’s mother was a virtual alcoholic. In his late teens therefore David had been forced to care for his mother in an unnaturally intimate way.
There were many times, for example, when his mother was so drunk David would be forced to help her undress and get her into bed. He had thus seen her in her underwear on many occasions and often viewed her bare breasts. Once, when she fell in the bathroom (and he had rushed in to help) he had seen her completely naked. At such times David had turned away and tried not to look, but even back then he was aware he was interested in her body, and enjoyed (if that’s the right word) helping her remove her clothing.
Joan (his mother) was a slim slightly skinny woman in her late 50′s. She had clearly once been very attractive and even now was not unappealing. Her breasts were small (almost non-existent) but she had pert chunky nipples which, if he’d been honest with himself, David would have admitted were astonishingly sexy. Her legs too were well proportioned and attractive, especially when she wore those brown stockings which she still seemed to prefer to tights. There were times when she was drunkenly asleep on the sofa, with her dressing gown pulled up and open, when David had found his glance continually straying from the TV to the dark brown edges of her stocking-tops. Indeed there were moments when he’d had to hold himself from creeping over and lifting her gown just a bit further so he could view all her stocking-clad legs. But David had been a good boy and had always behaved (and tried to think) in the proper manner.
Now however he saw how all those sights and glances had aroused him and how he’d unconsciously struggled to suppress that arousal. He’d become the man of the house and taken care of the women of the house, but he’d had to forsake even the conscious thought of what a man’s rewards should be for shielding his woman from the outside world. The body he’d struggled to protect and nourish was not his to use for his own pleasure … nor even to look at with desire.
At last David realised he’d unconsciously wanted to have sex with his mother for a long time now, and his instinctive attempt to block this suppressed desire was the cause of his own phobic reaction to all women. He thought long and hard about how to deal with this problem, and although he recognised the accident of circumstance as partly responsible, he also blamed his mother for unnecessarily exposing him to temptation. He felt much better for seeing the truth, but something told him the ‘devil inside’ once awakened would haunt him for ever if he didn’t do something to exorcise it, so in the end he decided the best way to rid himself of this problem was to actually face it … to go and fuck his own mother.
It was Christmas time when the newly enlighten David finally returned to the side of his unsuspecting mother. Although he’d spent a lot of time thinking about her whilst awaiting the winter break, he still had no clear idea of how to go about getting her into his bed. He loved his mother too much to think about any deceitful plans to trick her into having sex with him, so all that was left was to tell her the truth.
Well at least that’s what David told himself. The reality of the situation was far less honest and noble. Joan (his mother) had always been a weak and pliable woman, which of course was why the problem had appeared in the first place. She had depended on her husband for all the practical things in life and without him she had become lost and rudderless, and so she’d turned to David to provide the strength and stability she needed. David was well aware of this and of his mother’s vulnerability, and although he’d not yet admitted it to himself, it was her very frailty and submissiveness he was instinctively hoping he could use to his advantage.
They lived in a large house in the Norfolk Broads near the east coast. By the time David had turned 20 and gone to University, his mother had recovered some of her self-control and responsibility in life. She filled her days keeping her house in order and visiting her many female friends in the area. She no longer drank as much, nor did she break down in tears at every opportunity, but (like the vampire she unconsciously was) she still used her son as one of the main props in her life. She telephoned him every day at university (sometimes twice) and usually spent the entire conversation unburdening her day-to-day problems on to David. She told herself she kept close to him because she loved him so much, but the truth was she needed his strength to keep herself sane.
Although David (through reading Freud) had come to see how much he desired his mother and how he strongly wanted to have sex with her, he had not yet begun to understand that he also wanted to punish her. Unconsciously he blamed her for his weakness and inadequacy with girls and for how much he had missed in his life. Thus he was quite happy to tell himself he would ‘persuade’ his mother to fulfil his needs, without ever considering how forcing her into an incestual relationship might affect her. In some dark corner of David’s mind all he really wanted was power over his mother, and forcing her to give him sex was the ultimate expression of power.
Like many boys and young men of David’s age, he was emotionally immature, although in David’s case this was mostly the fault of his mother. However he was by no means intellectually deficient and although he often had little insight into his own motivation he was more than capable of devising complex and practical means to achieve what he wanted. Although never quite consciously realising what he was doing, David began to develop a dark instinctive plan for gaining control over his mother.
In the event he wasted no time in starting his campaign. As he arrived through the door to greet his mother on return from university, he embraced her and held her to him more fully and more passionately than ever before. Usually when cuddling his mother he did what we all do, he leant forward slightly so contact was restricted to the head and chest area … warm but asexual. This time however he pulled his mother’s body tight against his so that their contact included the genital area. Instantly he felt himself go hard, but he made no attempt to disguise his erection and let it push up against his mother’s abdomen.
Initially she returned his embrace, surprised and pleased with the warmth of his greeting. But then she broke away looking slightly flustered and embarrassed, and it was clear to David she had felt and recognised the pressure of his manhood. Unconcerned he kissed her on the lips and held her face to his for a few moments longer that normal.
“I love you Mum,” he said as he broke away, but with an earnestness that also surprised her. “I love you so very much.”
For a few moments Joan was taken aback by the manner of her son’s greeting but she seemed to quickly shrug it off, and within minutes was chatting happily to David and asking all sorts of questions about University. For David that first contact had been a statement of intent and he was happy to let things slip back to normal for a little while. By the evening of his first day home, however, he began to talk to his mother about the subject closest to his heart.
It was around seven o’clock and his mother was taking a bath. David simply walked into the bathroom and stood there looking at her. Quickly she drew her hands across her breasts, pulled up her knees, and lent forward to cover herself,
“David!” said his mother sharply. “Please, can’t you see I’m in the bath?”
“I need to talk to you Mum,” he said simply.
“Alright dear, but not here, not now.” She looked up at him pleadingly. “Wait till I’ve finished my bath for goodness sake!”
He stood there for a moment taking in those aspects of her nakedness he could see: the slight swell of a half-hidden breast, her thighs pulled in the water, the long curve of her back.
Increasingly embarrassed by the intenseness of his examination of her body, his mother said again, “Please David … I’m in the bath.”
He looked for a moment as if he was going to say something, but then he turned and left without a word.
Some minutes later his mother emerged from the bathroom. His entrance and the manner of his inspection had unnerved her, so she made sure she was fully dressed before she came out. She walked into the lounge where her son was sitting on a chair and sat down in the sofa opposite him.
“What is it David … what’s so urgent?”
“I love you Mother,” he said quietly.
“I love you too David.” She replied sounding puzzled.
“No Mother, I want you.”
“But you have me David. I’m here for you … always.”
He smiled grimly at his mother. “But not in the way I want you now.”
She frowned at him, and then his mother’s eyes widened in astonishment as she finally started to understand what he was saying.
“David …” she said, the shock clear in her voice. “What do you mean? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I have become infatuated with you Mother … I want to hold you and kiss you and make you mine.”
“Oh …” was all Joan could think of to say. She looked at David and then down to the floor. Slowly she shook her head.
“Please Mother,” he went on. “I can’t help it. I think I got too close to you back when things were hard, and it’s … it’s affected me. I can’t make friends, I can’t go out with other girls, I can’t think straight … and it’s all because I want you so badly. I want to kiss you and touch you and make love to you and …”
“David!” she interrupted him with an exclamation. “I’m your mother for God’s sake. You CAN’T want me like that! You can’t, its not right … it’s not normal.”
He got up and came over to the sofa, but she backed away from him as he sat down.
“I know its not right mother; it’s not proper or accepted. I do know that, but just being near you makes me go all peculiar. I’m sorry but I can’t help how I feel, and at least I’m being honest with you.”
He made no attempt to move closer to his mother but just looked at her pleadingly. After a few moments she visibly relaxed and sat back into the sofa, but she still seemed unable to say anything. She was staring at the floor still slowly shaking her head.
“I know I can’t make love to you or be with you in the way I want,” David went on. “But if you’ll just let me hold you close and cuddle you occasionally … well I am sure that would help. I will try really hard to be a normal son … if that’s what you want?”
At last she turned to look at him but there was anguish and confusion in her eyes.
“You know I love David,” she said in a half-whisper. “But I love you as a mother loves her son, not … not in any other way. I … I don’t know what to say. You should be with people of your age, with young girls not a withered old woman like me.”
“I don’t think you’re withered, I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
For a moment the compliment brought the flicker of a smile to her lips but it fled as quickly as it came.
“Perhaps,” she said after a moment. “Perhaps you need help? Maybe a doctor could help you? You need to talk to someone. Don’t they have counsellors at University? Perhaps one of those could help cure you of this … of these unnatural feelings?”
“I don’t want to be cured,” he said smoothly. “I feel wonderful. All I want is to hold my darling mother close to me, to be with and around her.”
As David watched his mother, taking in her bewilderment and distress, he knew full well that what he was saying was making things worse for her. All the love and flattery he was offering was driving her further and further into an impossible corner where the rejection of what he was declaring increasingly meant the rejection of David himself. But he also knew there was no way she could reject the son she loved and depended on, and so she would be forced to confront the terrible (for her) implications of his new incestual desires.
Davis stood up. “I’ve said enough for the moment,” he said in as kindly a manner as he could muster. “I’ll leave you to think about what I’ve said. I’ve tried to be honest and truthful with you Mum and I’m sorry if it hurts you. It’s silly really because all it means is I love you too much …”
And with that final barbed comment he walked quickly out, leaving poor Joan to wrestle with the hopeless dilemma of how to deal with the new and impossible situation. She loved David more than anything in the world but that love was now exploding alarmingly in her face.
For the next few days David deliberately avoided saying anything further about his feelings. However he also deliberately ranked up the pressure on his mother by keeping his distance from her and appearing sullen and morose. He acted as if he had been rejected, although he was careful not to overplay his hand. He was polite and kind but always reserved and remote. He was giving his mother as much space and time as she needed to come to terms with what he’d said, whilst at the same time leaving her in no doubt what the outcome would be if she entirely rejected his new found desire to be physically close to her. Three days later he knew he had won this most important battle …
It was late in the evening and they were in the lounge watching television. David was in his favourite armchair, the one furthest away from his mother on the sofa, when she indicated for him to come over and sit with her. As he sat down she put her arm around him and hugged him close.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been so concerned with worrying about what you said I’d forgotten how hard this must be for you. Telling me like that must have been so difficult … and all I did was shun and reject you.”
David smiled sweetly into his mother’s eyes. “It’s ok Mum, I understand.”
“I know you do David. You’re such a wonderful son and I’m so lucky to have you, and if you want to give your mum a cuddle every now and then, then why on earth should I mind.”
Somewhere along the line Joan had convinced herself that David’s ‘unnatural’ feelings towards his mother would fade in time. It’s just part of growing up, she told herself, he’ll grow out of it in time. And in the meantime she’d have this extra loving, extra attentive son to look after her and care for her.
“May I kiss you on the cheek?” David asked innocently.
His mother smiled. “Of course you can my dear, and you can hold me tight and snuggle up to me whenever you want.”
David leaned forward and kissed his mother’s cheek very softly and lovingly. It seemed like nothing, a mere brief indication of affection, but for David it was the first step on a long road. Everything he’d said and done was designed to bring him to where he now was, and all that was left was to move slowly and carefully down the open roadway. His entire plan from this point might summed up by the old adage ‘softly, softly, catchee monkey!’
He kissed his mother on the cheek again and then lay with his cheek against hers and his arm tight around her waist.
“I’m so lucky to have an understanding mother like you,” he whispered.
For the next two nights David contented himself spending the evenings sitting up close to his mother and occasionally giving her a tender kiss on the cheek. By the third evening she not only seemed happy to accept his presence but indeed appeared to welcome and even look forward to it. She opened her arms wide and hugged him as they settled down on the sofa together to watch a film on the TV. She was so happy to have resolved the problem and to have her loving son back with her, she didn’t even notice when David rested his hand on her leg just above her knee, nor did she note how it drifted upwards on to her thigh.
“May I kiss your neck?” he said after a while.
“Of course dear,” his mother replied without thinking.
David leaned over and snuggled into his mother’s neck, gently brushing his lips across the skin below her ear. It seemed reasonably innocent to Joan but at the same time it was sensual, and as her son continued to softly nuzzle at her earlobe she found herself inadvertently responding.
“Oh that’s nice dear,” she whispered. “Mummy loves you so much.”
Encouraged, David kissed his mother’s neck more firmly and occasionally flicked his tongue into her ear. At the same time his hand drifted to the top of her thigh and his thumb began to imperceptibly massage into her groin area.
“I love you too mum,” he murmured. “I wish I could kiss you.”
For one moment Joan almost yielded to her son’s desire and she half-turned her lips to his, but at the last second she stopped herself and pulled away from him.
“Enough dear,” she whispered breathlessly, pushing him away. “I … I’m missing the film.”
Obediently David shifted away to the other end of the sofa. He said nothing but there was something in the way (and the distance) he moved that gave Joan the impression he felt rejected. She felt guilty, not just because she had pushed him away but because of why she had made him stop. She herself had begun to feel aroused, and the dampness between her legs had alarmed her so much she’d made him stop. Now she felt it was her not David who was in the wrong.
Discerning his Mother’s confusion (and instinctively understanding why she was confused), David suddenly stood up and declared he was going to bed. It was a heartless act, designed to put as much pressure on his mother as possible, and it instantly achieved its objective.
“No!” Joan cried, leaping up and grabbing his arm. “I’m sorry David, I’m sorry.”
She pulled him back to the sofa and threw her arms around him once more. “I love you David. I didn’t mean to push you away, I really didn’t. You can hold me and kiss my neck and my cheek and … and anything you want!”
Of course she didn’t really mean he could do anything he wanted, it was just a figure of speech, but David immediately leap upon it.
“Can I touch your … your bosom Mother?”
Joan instantly froze in shock and surprise. She felt trapped. It wasn’t what she’s meant but it was what she’d said. She couldn’t scold him or tell him off because she’d appeared to invite such a request. At the same time she knew how he felt and what he wanted so she could hardly get cross he’d asked such a thing. Likewise how could she reject his appeal without rejecting him, as she had apparently done just a few moments before?
David remained silent, waiting for her reply. He felt confident his cleverly constructed snare would pay dividends.
Would it hurt to let him touch her, Joan wondered. Maybe it would get it out of his system, maybe it would help him grow out of these silly feelings, and of course she didn’t really mind him touching her breast … well not for a moment or two… and no one would ever know, would they?
She took a deep breath. “Give me your hand,” she whispered.
She took her son’s hand in hers and slowly lifted it to her left breast. Gently she laid the palm against her chest and pressed it softly home. “There,” she said. “You see I do love you.”
David’s hand cupped his mother’s breast and squeezed and fondled it more roughly and purposefully than Joan expected. She felt him tweak the nipple between his fingers, but before she could complain or pull away he slipped his other hand around her neck and pulled her face close to his.
“I love you Mother,” he whispered. “You’re the most wonderful mother in the world, and I’m so lucky to have a mother like you!”
Trapped by the kindness of his words she let him continue to massage her breast. She simply had no idea what to say or how to stop him, and so she remained silent even as his other hand left her neck and fixed itself on her right breast. She felt him pawing at her tits like some licentious animal, his lustful actions belying his words of love, but she said nothing. Eventually his hands left her breasts and slid up to embrace her cheeks. Then he pulled her face to his and kissed her full on the lips.
After a moment he pulled away and looked deep into her bleak and bewildered eyes. “Thank you Mummy,” he said quietly. “You’re the best. I don’t deserve you.”
Slowly the trap closed around Joan and there seemed to be nothing she could do to escape. Although she thought she’d given David a one-off opportunity to touch her chest, apparently he didn’t see it that way. He seemed to believe she’d declared open season on her body and every night now his hands would eventually stray to her breasts. Likewise if they cuddled whilst standing up his hands would now run down over her bottom, and he would even use her buttocks to pull her body close to his … so close she could feel his hard member crushed up against her. He seemed to feel he was free to caress her legs, running his hands over her thighs at will, although he had not as yet attempted to reach up inside her dress.
It was three nights after he had first fondled her breast he mentioned her stockings. It was late and he was lying on the sofa with his head on her lap and his hand on her knee. They had both had several drinks though neither was intoxicated.
“How come you never wear your stockings any more Mom?” David asked.
Inevitably Joan failed to see anything in the question beyond a polite enquiry. “They are out of fashion these days,” she said. “And besides tights are more comfortable once you get used to them.”
“That’s sad; I liked you in your stockings. They make your legs look so nice … and tights are horrible!”
His mother smiled. “I still have some stockings around somewhere I think …” She stopped suddenly wondering if this talk of stockings was more dangerous than she first thought.
“Would you wear them for me Mom, I just love to see you in your seamed stockings?”
Joan was silent, uncertain now where this was going or what to say.
“Mom?” said David as the silence stretched on.
“Er … yes if you want. I’m not sure if I really have any … but I’ll have a look.”
His mother was backing away and David knew it.
“Tomorrow night!” he said firmly. “I’ll look forward to it. You really are an incredible mom.”
The following evening Joan was in her bedroom with a pair of brown seamed stockings draped over her hand and a white suspender belt lying across her knees. She was sitting at her dressing table looking at herself in the mirror, and wondering where the situation with David was leading. He was touching her freely now and she was beginning to feel like his girlfriend, or more accurately his plaything. She was scared he would go further and she wouldn’t be able to stop him.
She looked at the stockings and wondered again if she should actually put them on. If she did it would be another signal to David she was willing to do his bidding … and he might want to touch them and feel her legs. But if she refused he would sulk again and make her feel selfish and inconsiderate. What should she do? How far should she let him go?
She kept asking herself if she really minded him touching her. Yes it was incestuous and considered immoral by society, but if nobody ever knew was it really that bad? After all in this day and age people seemed to engage in all kinds of strange sexual acts and nobody appeared to mind or even object. Did it really matter if her lonely son took a little comfort from kissing and cuddling his mother?
She stood up, slipped off her skirt, and began to put on her suspender belt. Almost without thinking she slid the stockings over her legs and attached them to the clips. As she used the mirror to straighten the seams she found herself admiring her own legs. ‘They make me look sexy’ she thought, and for the first time she imagined herself being with David, her son. She had a sudden vision of him fondling her stocking clad legs, his fingers lightly running up over her bare thighs and touching her intimately. She felt a sudden heat as she imagined his hands on her breasts, his hardness against her moist centre, his fingers wriggling under her panties.
“No,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head to dispel the vision. “No I can’t … I mustn’t let that happen.”
At that moment the bedroom door opened and David walked in.
She spun round and cried out “David! What … what are you doing in here?” Her voice was breathless and she looked embarrassed, as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. He just stood there calmly looking at her, and for some reason she felt he must know what she’d been thinking.
Indeed she was so disturbed by his unexpected appearance she forgot for a moment her skirt was on the floor, and she was showing her son a vision of his mother in stockings, suspenders and panties. Then she looked down at herself and with a cry tried to gather up her skirt.
David stepped forward. “No!” he commanded, “stay as you are Mother. You look wonderful dressed like that. You’re not only beautiful but so so sexy.”
He moved up to close to his mother, grabbed the skirt from her hand and threw it on the bed. Then his hands reached up to the buttons of her white blouse and began to undo them.
“We need to complete the vision,” he said with a smile as his fingers deftly released the buttons.
For a moment Joan froze in surprised, them she reached up and grabbed his hands. “No … David no!”
“Oh come on Mother,” he said gently. “You wouldn’t have worn those stockings if you didn’t want me to see them. Admit it, you want me to see your body … to admire you and touch you and want you.”
“No …” Joan whispered again, but her hands fell away from his and she allowed him to continue to remove her blouse.
He tossed the blouse on the bed next to her skirt and stepped back to admire his mother, dressed only in her lingerie. He slowly looked her up and down until she began to feel embarrassed and uncomfortable. Then he smiled widely at her.
“Take off your brassiere Mother,” he said softly.
Joan looked her son in dismay. “David, don’t ask that please.”
“Do as I say Mother, take it off. You know I won’t be happy until I’ve see your breasts.”
“David … no!”
“You let me touch them,” he whispered. “Is it so different to let me see them?”
Joan felt trapped again by his argument. Indeed she felt powerless and at his mercy, and she was hardly aware as her own hands reached around behind her back and slipped the catch on her bra. She felt more than ever like his toy as she released the bra from her breasts and dropped it on the ground in front of him.
For a long time he stood staring at his mother’s breasts. They were small like he remembered, but with wonderful full dark nipples. As he watched he was sure he could see her nipples hardening till they were standing proud, like miniature towers on a distant hilltop. He wondered idly if his mother was cold … or was she excited? Whatever, he wanted nothing more than to engulf those nipples in his mouth and suckle at them like a child.
At length he said, “Now remove your panties Mother.”
Joan stared at her son, and for a long time she was unmoving and silent. He stared back and their eyes locked as if in conflict. She was struggling both with his will and with her own. She knew she shouldn’t do this, but she also knew everything that had happened over the last few weeks had led inevitably to this point. Either she must reject her son entirely or she must let him have his way. There was no compromise and she must decide. But there didn’t really seem to be any choice for in the end she needed him.
Besides he was too strong for her, to damn determined and persistent.
With a sigh that indicated her defeat, she bent down and slowly removed her panties, throwing them on the bed along with her clothes.
“Satisfied now!” she said angrily
Joan’s mind was in turmoil as her son intimately explored her body with his eyes. She was embarrassed beyond belief whilst at the same time aroused and breathless. She had no idea what was going to happen next, and worse she had no will left to alter or control events.
David just stood there. He seemed calm, and appeared to be enjoying not only his mother’s nakedness but her discomfort too. He was fully in control and he knew it.
“So it seems my Mother is a slut after all,” he said at last. “Willing to strip naked in front of her son, willing to do whatever she’s told. I always knew you were a filthy dirty bitch … but who am I to disappoint you.”
As he said this he undid his trousers and let them fall to the floor. His underpants bulged at the front under the pressure of his rock hard penis. He slipped his pants over his member and let it spring free, erect and challenging.
“This is what you want isn’t it Mother?” he breathed.
Joan stood rigid; staring wide-eyed at her son’s engorged cock.
He moved closer to her. “Time for Mummy to get down on her knees I think.”
For a moment she didn’t seem to understand what he’d said, or what he meant, and she looked up at him with a puzzled expression. Then she suddenly realised what he wanted and a small gasp escaped her lips.
“David, no!” she said for the third time. “I’m your … your mother. I can’t do that … I won’t …”
David stared into his mother’s eyes. “You’ll do exactly as you’re told,” he said.
Then he lifted his hands to his mother’s shoulders and began to exert a downward pressure. Slowly, reluctantly, she slid down until she was on her knees in front of him, her eyes and mouth only inches from his penis.
“Open your mouth Mummy,” he said softly.
Joan looked pleadingly up into his eyes, but he just smiled down at her and whispered, “All the best mummy’s do this for their little boys you know. Now open wide …”
Slowly, as tears welled up in her eyes, Joan opened her mouth and allowed her son to push his hard cock in between her lips.
She was in a kind of daze, knowing that what she was doing was wrong, and yet still trying to believe in the innocence of her son. She was shocked therefore to feel his hands slide roughly behind her head and her face being pulled hard down against his crotch, and hard member being forced down into her throat. Moving her head back and forward, David began a rhythmic movement that pushed his penis in and out of her mouth in an increasingly violent manner.
“Suck me Mummy,” he whispered. “Suck your little boy’s cock like the good mummy you are!”
Not knowing what she was doing Joan tried to suck his cock as lovingly as she could. But the movement was too violent and she began to choke repeatedly as his penis was thrust further and further down her throat. David was fucking his mother’s mouth as hard as he could. His held bunches of her hair in his hands as he thrust her head back and forward like some inconsequential sex toy. He ignored her choking and spluttering noises as he took from his mother what he had wanted for so long.
He seemed oblivious to her struggles, concerned only with the fulfilment of his own lust and maximizing his pleasure. As his cock pounded her face and throat he was both raping her mouth and punishing her at the same time. Finally with a roar like an animal he crushed her head tighter and tighter against his groin, thrusting his cock deeper and deeper down. Then he flooded her mouth with his cum, ejecting more and more until she sounded like she was drowning in a sea of white sticky liquid. But David’s only response was to press her face harder still to his crotch and whisper, “swallow it Mummy, swallow it all you bitch.”
Eventually he pulled her head away and flung her by the hair on to the bed. She lay there choking and coughing and gagging, a trickle of tears running down her face and mixing unnoticed with the white trails of cum leaking from her mouth.
David sat on the corner of the bed, his chest heaving from the exertion of his massive orgasm. He was idly stroking his mother’s thigh and staring absently at the seams running up her stockings. Despite the intensity of his recent release he was allowing the view of his Mother’s stocking-tops to rekindle his passion.
Joan just lay there; occasionally wiping her mouth, as if the rid herself of both the taste and the trauma to which she had just been subjected. She was still crying softly and silently.
After his virtual rape of his mother’s mouth, David’s mood seemed to change. He suddenly lay down on the bed and took his mother in his arms and began to stroke her hair.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “That was very wrong of me … but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve wanted you for so long and I’ve fantasised about being in your mouth so much, I just sort of lost control.”
Joan lifted her head, her eyes still wet and red from crying. “That was awful, awful … how could you do such a monstrous thing to me? How could you do THAT to your own mother?”
David looked down at the floor as if ashamed. “I’m so sorry … I won’t do it again, I promise.”
Joan turned over and lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She made no attempt to cover her nakedness, as if some point of intimacy had been past and all attempts to maintain their previous relationship were pointless. For a long time neither of them spoke again.
At length David crept up beside her and laid his face against her breasts. Slowly and very carefully he slipped his mouth around a nipple and began to suckle it. In contrast to earlier he was very tender and gentle, almost as if he were kissing it better. After a while he lifted his head and began to kiss his mother’s neck and cheek, and eventually her mouth.
With a studied softness her pressed his lips against hers and whispered. “I do love you mummy … more than anything else in the world.”
Joan turned her face to him and looked deep in his eyes. “What do you want from me?” she said quietly but without emotion.
“I want to love you,” he whispered.
Still looking him in the eyes she said with venom, “You mean you want to fuck me!”
“No …” he replied softly. “I want to make love to you.”
“You want to use me for your pleasure,” she said, and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. “That’s all you ever wanted, to use me … to make me your sex toy.”
As she looked in his face she expected him to deny it, to try and get her back to some semblance of normality so he get more from her, so he could use her body in some other way. She assumed he thought she now was under his control, his plaything to do with as he wished. She wondered if he was right and she was …
So she was surprised when he smiled and said, “Yes I want you to be my sex toy …”
She started to reply angrily but he interrupted her.
“And I want to be your toy-boy. Don’t you understand Mother; I want us to have a relationship … to be a couple. I want to love you and for you to love me. If I could I’d ask you to marry me.”
Surprised by his words, she looked at him silently.
“And I think you’d like the same thing too. I think you’d quite like a son you could look after and talk to during the day … and then take to your bed at night. You’re lonely, I know you are. I could be more than just someone to talk to. I could give you something new to live for … and satisfy you too. What do you think?”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “But it’s wrong,” she whispered. “It’s incest.”
David took his Mother’s face in his hands and brought his lips to hers. He kissed her softly and whispered, “Yes it is … and that’s what makes it so much fun!”
Slowly and softly he kissed her again. But this time he held the kiss … and after a few moments he felt her lips press harder to his. Then before he knew it her mouth was open and they were kissing passionately. Even after all he’d said he was surprised by her sudden response, and it was with great caution he slid his hand up to embraced his mother’s breast.
But something had changed in Joan, something sudden and unexpected. She threw her arms around him and crushed her mouth to his, and before he knew what was happening, David found himself being hauled up and on to her body. Her legs slipped open and he felt her hand reaching down for his penis and pulling it towards her cunt.
“Fuck me then you little shit!” she hissed in his ear. “Give it to me … give it to … to mummy! Fuck your mummy … that’s what you want isn’t it?”
In an instant she had guided him up and inside her, and she was using his buttocks to drag him as deep as she could. He wanted to taste the moment, to revel in the fact he was finally inside his own mother’s vagina, but she wouldn’t wait. It was almost as if the earlier situation were reversed. She wanted him now, hard and strong and brutal. She was writhing and thrusting and taking back from him what he’d earlier stolen from her.
“Fuck me boy!” she groaned at him. “Be a good boy and fuck mummy! Fuck her as hard as you can!”
David tried to respond, thrusting himself in and out and hard as he could.
Joan’s breathing was becoming frantic as she ground herself around his cock. He always thought women took a long time to get excited so he was both shocked and surprised but the suddenness of her transformation. For a moment he wondered if the idea of incest was as much a turn-on for her as it was for him.
He heard her murmuring. “Squeeze mummy’s tits you fucking little shit. Grope me, feel my stockings, tear my clothes, fuck me, fuck your poor mummy!”
He grabbed both her tits in his hands and twisted the nipples. She screamed, but then she threw her arms back as if to open her chest to him, and writhed about screaming, almost as if she were being molested.
“How can you do this?” she wailed. “Oh God, my little boy is fucking me. He’s fucking his own mummy!”
Suddenly she wrapped her legs around her son’s torso and squeezed so tight that for a moment he couldn’t breathe. He felt her hands on his buttocks pushing so hard it seemed as if she were trying to drive his whole body up inside her. Then she screamed again, but this time in pleasure as her body arched and her legs crushed David so hard he thought for a moment his back was going to break.
“Oh David,” she wailed. “You dirty boy, you dirty dirty little boy …”
As they lay there she held him tight, so tight it seemed as if she would never let him go, and then she whispered in his ear.
“I guess Mummy is yours now … You can have her anyway you want, whenever you want! What a naughty naughty boy you are …”