Ali's Art Ch. 05

I laughed. "I don't think I'm Ali's type, Mom."

"Oh, you're any girl's type, Tommy."

"Unless they're into other girls," I said, and realized I was giving away Ali's secrets.

Mom lifted herself, twisted round and looked at me. "You mean...?"

I nodded.

"Well," she said, then burst out laughing. "OK, that's fine. That's one more thing I can stop worrying about then."

"Worrying about what?"

"You and Alison," she said, and slapped my arm. "I was thinking, you know, she's beautiful, and you're handsome, and I know you're cousins but sometimes these things just happen..." Her voice trailed off, and I think she was recalling last night. "Sometimes these things just happen, and I don't see what's so wrong when it does," she finished.

We were quiet for a minute, lost in our own thoughts, then Mom sighed and said, "But you do like girls, don't you?"

I laughed again. "I'm straight, Mom, if that's what your asking."

She nodded. "So how many girlfriends have you had since you went to New York? Were they hot?"

"Is this an appropriate conversation between a son and his mother?" I joked.

"Fuck appropriate," Mom said, shocking me again. "I'm curious. You're grown now, Tommy, and we've always be able to talk to each other, haven't we?"

"But about that?"

She slid back down and put her head against me. "I'm curious, Tommy. I don't get a lot of excitement in my life these days. In fact I've never really had much excitement. I just thought... well, if you wanted to talk about stuff I'd like to listen."

I leaned back against the chair and rubbed her shoulder inside her dress. I could feel the satin strap of her bra under my fingers.

"Do you really want me to tell you about my conquests, Mom?"

"Conquests?" she said. "So you have gotten laid then."

"Mom!"

"Tell me, Tommy," she said, and giggled. "Shock me with all the details."

"I'm not sure about all the details," I said.

"A few then. Tell me - did you fuck Jenni Harris? I was sure you were fucking her over the Summer."

I disentangled myself and reached for my wine glass. Mom might be staying sober tonight, but if she wanted me to do this I needed the alcohol. I drained my glass and filled it again. Mom took a drink from hers, leaving the glass half full and I reached across and topped it up and she smiled at me, raised an eyebrow and I noticed how she had plucked them since last night. She looked altogether better groomed, and I imagined her in the bathroom, showering, plucking, applying moisturizer and perfume. She looked and smelled delicious.

I sat back against the cushions and realized there was a definite bulge pushing against the front of my jeans and tried to shift to make it less obvious.

"OK Mom, what do you want to know?"

She considered, then said, "You're not a virgin, are you?"

"No Mom."

"So you and Jenni Harris? Did you?"

I nodded.

"I thought so." She looked pensive, but not shocked. "How many others?"

"How many girls?"

She nodded.

"About three," I said.

"About?" she smiled.

"OK, three." I decided that the blow job off Maggie didn't count, and there was no way I was going to tell he about that anyway.

"That's not too many," Mom said. "And you're careful?"

"If you mean do I use protection, yes Mom, I do."

She nodded again. "Good. What were they like? Were they beautiful? Jenni's beautiful, I know. What about the others?"

"They were nice," I said. "And one of them was very beautiful."

"No long term commitments?"

"I don't want that yet."

"Playing the field."

"Something like that, yeah."

"And Jenni? Was that a fling, or more...?"

"A fling," I said.

"No hard feelings?"

"Not from me. Nor from her either, I believe."

She had pulled herself tight against my side, and her leg came over like last night and rested along my jeans. I could feel the inside of her thigh pressed against me, against the tight bulge that had grown down my leg. She tugged at the material of her dress, pulling it out where it was caught between us, and I felt her naked thigh against my jeans.

"Tommy," she whispered, "I'm sorry if I shocked you last night."

"It's OK, Mom. It was kind of nice that you thought I was, well, you know..."

"I love you so much, Tommy."

"And I love you too." I kissed her on the top of the head and then pushed her forward and untangled my legs from around her. "I'm going to take a shower. I stink," I said.

"Give me a shout when you're done," Mom said, "I think I'd like to take a nice long bath. There's an old robe of your Dad's in my bedroom if you don't want to get dressed after. I don't think yours fits you any more, does it?"

I laughed. "I think it might show a bit too much of me!"

Mom returned my laugh and said, "Nothing I haven't seen before though."

Maybe not, I thought as I went up the stairs to shower, but it had been a while since she had seen me naked, and I had changed since then.

I found Dad's old terry robe and took my shower, dried off and pulled it on. It felt soft and warm and was too big for me. My Dad had been a tall man, over six feet and broad, and the dark grey robe fell half way down my calves and wrapped around my sides.

I went downstairs and told Mom the bathroom was free and she brushed past me and went upstairs. When she got to the top she turned back and said, "Give me five minutes then bring me up a glass of wine would you Tom? I feel decadent tonight."

"Uh, sure," I said.

I found a new bottle of Shiraz in the fridge and pulled the cork, filled a glass half full and when I thought enough time had passed took it upstairs. I knocked lightly on the bathroom door and heard Mom call, "Come on in, Tommy."

She was lying full length in the bath, mostly covered with piles of bubbles, but I was aware of her breasts floating high in the water, only hidden by foam. She had tied her hair up on top of her head and the water moved as she turned to see me. I put the toilet seat down and sat there and held her glass out.

She lifted herself up and as she turned to take the glass her breasts rose from the water and revealed themselves, stray runs of foam sliding down over them, parting around her nipples, leaving her skin wet and slick. I couldn't stop myself glancing down and Mom caught my look and laughed.

"It's OK. Look if you want Tommy, I don't mind."

I turned away, embarrassed.

"Come on, Tommy, it's alright." She reached over and patted my leg through the robe. "After what I was offering last night I don't think copping a look at your Mom's tits is going to matter too much, do you?"

I laughed. "I guess not, but I'd better go back downstairs all the same." But I made no move from my seat.

Mom sighed and slid back into the water, put her glass on the side of the bath and lifted her arms above her head as she dropped down and the water came to her chin.

"Tommy?" She said in a soft voice.

I smiled.

"Could you do me a big favor?"

"What's that, Mom?"

"Would you scrub my back for me? It's years since anyone's done that for me, and I really love it. Please, Tommy?" and she smiled again, a much younger smile than her years.

I sighed and made a show of reluctance. "I guess, if you want."

She sat up, water splashing, breasts rising free again and swaying, then she leaned forward so they flattened against her thighs.

I grabbed the big sponge and soaped it up and began to scrub her back.

"Harder, Tom," she said.

I applied more pressure and she grunted and sighed. "So good..."

I washed her back for five minutes, running the sponge down beneath the water to the upper curve of her ass and then back up, over her shoulders and the tops of her arms, letting water squeeze from the sponge and run down her front. Finally, I couldn't see that there was anything more to wash so I squeezed the sponge dry and sat back.

"Thanks Tommy," Mom said, sliding back down, lifting her arms over her head so her breasts rose with the movement and her nipples appeared at the water line, longer than they had been, their tips peeking above the water.

I got up and started for the door.

"Oh Tommy, there's a fresh razor in the cabinet, can you pass it to me?"

I opened the mirrored door and found the new razor, unwrapped it and passed it to Mom, glancing down again.

"Your look pretty good already under your arms," I said.

She smiled lazily and then winked. "How d'you know that's what I want it for?"

"Uh, well... I just thought..."

She smiled again and said, "See you later. I'll be down in a while..."

I closed the door behind me and took the stairs down, glad that Dad's old robe was big enough to hide the bulge of my aroused cock in its folds.

I poured myself a glass of wine and drank it straight back and topped it up. On the sofa I sat cross legged in the corner and re-arranged the folds of the robe and tried to make my cock relax. I laid my head back on the cushions and closed my eyes, trying to work through my feelings.

It was pretty obvious now that my Mom was flirting with me. It was also pretty obvious that if I allowed it to happen I could fuck her, and she would let me. But did she really want that, really want to commit incest with her son, to perform that taboo act of love? And more to the point, did I want that as well?

Why now? What had changed between us that Mom now wanted more of me than ever before?

I tossed the thoughts around in my head, mixing them in with the images I still carried from the bathroom, and as it all rattled around I realized my cock, instead of getting flaccid, had becoming harder.

Yes, I did want her. I did want my mother. And the taboo made no difference - in fact, if anything, the taboo made it more exciting. Maybe it was because of the thoughts I had had about Ali. Was there really that much difference between wanting to fuck your first cousin and wanting to fuck your mother?

I laughed softly to myself. Yes, of course there was! What the fuck was I thinking?

"What are you laughing at, Tom?"

Mom had descended the stairs silently on bare feet and I started and opened my eyes. She had not dressed either and wore her old towelling robe, the one she had liberated years ago from a hotel after her and Dad had saved up for a holiday on their own. It's original whiteness had faded over time, and it was too big for her, probably meant for a man originally, but when she wore it she always looked like Mom.

She lifted her empty glass. "More wine?" she asked.

"I'm fine, thanks."

She went to the kitchen and topped her own glass up, came back across to the sofa and said, "Make room then, Tom."

I moved across but she remained where she was, an eyebrow raised. I sighed and stretched my legs out, making sure my robe covered as much of my legs as it could. Mom smiled and settled down between them, wriggling back against me.

"Better," she said. She sipped her wine, going more slowly tonight.

I put my arms around her again, one around her waist, one around her shoulder at the front and she sighed and muttered something I couldn't catch. She wriggled again, put a hand on my lower arm and lifted it. I thought about resisting, but then dismissed the idea. This felt good.

I raised my hand and placed it, like last night, beneath her right breast, taking the weight against my palm. Tonight her breasts were unconfined, and I felt the firmness of them move more freely as I touched her.

I allowed my left hand to slide inside the neckline of her robe and drift down, feeling the sudden upper curve of her breast and she sighed and I felt her relax against me.

"That feels good, Tom," she said. She rolled sideways and put her glass down on the coffee table. As she moved her breast shifted under my hand, presenting itself. I felt a nipple brush against my finger, then when she moved back I let my hand remain where it was, cupping her left breast in my palm, her nipple hard against it.

"And that feels even better," she muttered.

I waited, breathing shallowly, then finally began to gently stroke her breast. I explored the heavy lower curve, amazed at how soft and smooth her skin felt. I returned to her nipple and rolled it between thumb and finger and she twitched and I stopped and she shook her head and said, "Feels nice. Do that some more, Tommy. It's been a long time since a man's touched me like that."

I raised my other hand, slid it inside the robe to her other breast and Mom tugged at the material so that both large globes were exposed.

What am I doing, I thought, but couldn't stop.

Mom put her head back against my shoulder and slid down between my legs. Her robe rose up, exposing her thighs, almost exposing her pussy. I watched, mesmerized, as her hand slid in under its folds, searching for herself.

My cock ached and I stroked both her nipples, pulling gently on them until they were long and hard.

I bent my head and kissed her exposed neck, enjoying the view of her breasts and naked belly. I was thinking about pulling on the tie at her waist when Sarah's voice sounded from upstairs.

"Mommy! I had a bad dream Mommy!"

Mom jerked upright, pulling her robe closed over herself and stood. She looked down at me, blushing, glanced at the obvious bulge beneath my robe, and gave a wry smile.

"Almost caught out then," She said. "I'll go and see what's wrong."

"You want me to do it?"

She shook her head. "No. I'll go." She looked at me, seemed to be about to say something else but then Sarah called again and she turned and went upstairs.

I lay for a while, trying to ignore my aching cock, then turned off the lights, set the fireguard and went up to my room. I lay naked on top of the covers with my rigid cock in my hand and slowly rubbed myself while I conjured images of Mom in my mind.

I don't know what it was made me open my eyes, perhaps a sound, perhaps a change in the light. I had been careful to close my door but when I opened my eyes Mom was standing there. The hall light was off, the only illumination coming from the streetlights outside.

She had opened her robe and was naked beneath. One hand cupped a breast, the other worked between her legs and she stared at me, at my cock in my hand, and said nothing. The look on her face was one of uncontrolled lust, and she was breathing raggedly. I don't know if she saw me open my eyes, saw me look back at her, as I continued rubbing myself, lifting my hips.

Mom's mouth hung open now, her movements more frantic.

I could feel myself approach the point of no return and tried to hold back.

I stroked myself and watched her, saw her face change, saw her body spasm.

I let myself go, and instantly shot a jet of cum high into the air to land on my chest.

Mom gasped, once, and began to shake. Her movements became jerky, her head dropped but she continued to stare at my cock as I ejaculated streams of cum onto myself. Her knees looked like they were going, and she released her breast and gripped the door jamb.

I stopped rubbing myself and removed my hand, lay there with my cock softening, cum cooling on my belly and chest.

Mom shivered, recovering herself, slowly drew her fingers away from her pussy.

She looked up, at my face, her expression neutral, no hint of a smile, no hint of anything else. Then she straightened herself, drew her robe closed and turned away. Gently, she closed my door behind her as she left.

Christmas Eve morning I came down late, worried what the atmosphere would be like, but Sarah was coloring in a book and Mom was moving around the kitchen as usual, still dressed in her second-hand robe. She offered her cheek for a kiss, said "Good Morning," and piled breakfast on a plate. The only minor difference was the way she let her fingers trail down through my hair and over my neck as she passed by.

Later in the morning Mom called me upstairs. She was standing in the upper hallway, pointing up at the hatch in the ceiling.

"Tom, do you think you can unlatch that and pull the ladder down?"

"Sure. What are you after?"

"I'm sure your Dad put all your old videos up here years ago. I thought there might be some Sarah would like. If they're no good we can just throw them out."

"OK." I reached up but the latch was still six inches from my outstretched arm, so I brought a chair from my bedroom, climbed onto it and lowered the hatch, pulled the aluminum ladder half way down, removed the chair and let it all the way to the floor.

I climbed up into the loft space. It was cold, the warm air in the house trapped below. At some point over the years Dad had insulated it and then laid boards. There was a switch on a rafter and when I flicked it a single bare bulb lit up the space.

Stacked on the far side, against the end of the house, were boxes. I shuffled across on my knees, the space not high enough to stand. I heard Mom climb in after me and follow.

"When I boxed them up I wrote what was in each one, Tom. See if you can find one marked Videos or maybe Tapes."

I tugged the boxes around, finding Material, Old Books, then laughed as I pulled a flat, wide box out and read it.

"Your old wedding dress, Mom?"

"I'd forgotten that was up here," she said.

"Do you think it still fits?"

She slapped me on the butt. "Of course it still fits... I think." Mom laughed back. "It's sixteen years old now. I wonder if the moths have gotten into it?"

"Do you want me to pull it out? It might be better in your room than up here."

"I don't know why I've kept it, Tommy. It's not like I'm going to need it again."

"Never know," I said, sitting back on my heels. Mom's face was pensive in the shifting light as the small bulb swayed. "Keep it as a family heirloom. Sarah might want to get married in it."

She put the box containing her wedding dress aside and pulled more boxes open. After ten minutes of breathing in dust and being convinced there were spiders crawling down our necks she said, "Got it. Thank God for that!"

She pushed the box across to me and I helped her tidy the others back against the wall, then worked the box through the hatch and brushed myself down.

Mom followed me, and I admit I allowed myself to enjoy the view directly up her skirt as she descended the ladder. Her panties had pulled tight between her legs and her labia were clearly outlined. As she reached the ground I turned away, ashamed of what I had done, then pushed the ladder back up and closed the hatch.

Mom was brushing dust and cobwebs off her blouse. "I'm going to need another shower now."

"Do you want one now? I can sort through these."

"No. I want to see what we've found. Let's take them downstairs and find out."

I dropped the box, quite a heavy box, in front of the sofa, sat down and pulled back the top. Mom sat on her heels on the other side. She pulled a couple of tapes out, blew dust off them and turned them over.

"Wow - Lion King and Little Mermaid. Sarah will love these."

We took it in turns pulling a tape out, spent a while remembering it. There was Jungle Book, old Roadrunner cartoons that I almost had to watch there and then, a couple of movies Mom had bought, weepy romances and I teased her about them and she reached over and slapped me on the butt and said, "Behave, Tom. You're not too big to spank."

"Promises, promises," I replied, making her laugh.

Then I pulled a tape out and my stomach gave a little flip. I tried to casually slip the video down by my feet but Mom saw what I was doing and grabbed it. I made an attempt to keep hold but she gripped the case tight and pulled it from me.

She turned the tape over and laughed. "Trying to save me from seeing this, Tommy?"

I shrugged. It was an eighties porn movie. Big hair, big tits, big cocks.

"I've seen this one," she said, surprising me, and when she saw the look on my face, said, "Your Dad used to enjoy a little porn now and then. I guessed something was going on when he used to come upstairs more amorous than usual. I found him watching one once, and told him I wanted to watch it with him..." her face took on a dreamy look, and I could see her thinking back. She shook her head and laughed. "Good times, Tommy... good times."