tagIncest/TabooCuckolding My Father Ch. 10

Cuckolding My Father Ch. 10

byD.C. Roi©

I find it interesting, as I look back on how my seduction of my mother progressed, that the steps occurred almost exactly a month apart. It began with a conversation Mother and I had about sex during which I told her that sex was actually something people did because it gave them pleasure, not just to have babies. I knew that concept was alien to her, but she listened with some interest. I also intensified the extent to which I touched and kissed her. She and I had always been "touchy" but I tried to make my touches a bit provocative without making them overtly sexual.

Mother's interest about sexual matters was piqued by that first conversation we had at the woodpile and by the slightly more passionate hugs and kisses I was giving her, but it took a month before things moved to another level. I began studying her reactions to my kisses and caresses and learned where I could touch her that seemed to turn her on a little. I also noticed as the second month went by that she had begun to return my kisses a little bit and that she was pressing her body against mine when she could. I stepped things up a little more by giving her some information about women and love making that I'd printed from an internet site called "The Clitoris.com".

Mother was obviously embarrassed by the stuff I'd given her to read, but she took it. It was almost two months before I learned whether she had read it. However, a month later I noticed that she was returning my kisses more and more like a lover does and that when we hugged, she was moving her body against mine in a much more sensual and seductive manner than she ever had before. She also became much more flirtatious, and even displayed some signs of jealousy toward girls I'd had relationships with in the past. Her behavior encouraged me and gave me hope I'd eventually be successful.

Mother finally did bring up the subject of the information I'd given her. Apparently she was struggling with the concept of masturbation and decided to ask me about it. The bright red flush on her face and her hesitant speech were obvious signs of how much it pained her to ask me the question she did. "Um...well...they...they talk about...about a woman...um...you know, touching herself on her...ah...private...um...parts. Do...do women really do that?" she stammered.

Even though I thought I knew how sexually naive Mother was, developments - like that question - kept occurring that reminded me. The environment she grew up in, with religiously conservative, strict parents, seemed to rank with some Eastern cultures in terms of wanting to keep information about sexuality away from its females. I've often thought that if my maternal grandparents had known about female circumcision, they'd have practiced it. It was clear that my grandmother told my mother absolutely nothing about sex, other than that it was bad, something God didn't look on favorably, and something you only did with your husband to have babies.

Things didn't improve for Mother when she became my father's property. I know my parents were married by a preacher, but in reality, their marriage was more of a business transaction between my father and her family than a joining of two people in holy matrimony. From everything she'd told me, Mother was regarded by both my father and her family as a chattel, something to be bartered, not a person. She had no say in who she married. And I've already noted that my father essentially "paid" for her by giving her father a pickup truck.

I decided I couldn't give mother a very good lecture on masturbation techniques. I was afraid I might lose control and try "hands on" teaching methods and I was sure Mother wasn't ready for those yet. She was clearly having a hard time accepting what was happening between us, but I was making progress and didn't want to blow it. Instead, I let her look at some video clips of women masturbating that I'd downloaded from the internet. I chose the videos carefully, to show real people who are really masturbating, not flawless hardbodies who are clearly faking it. One video, in particular, features an older woman who seems somewhat plain until several self-induced orgasms leave her glowing and beautiful in the aftermath of pleasure.

After I provided Mother access to the videos, I again waited. She used my computer quite often, but seemed to be using it more after I showed her how to look at those videos. Although I know enough about computers to check on how much she was using it, and what she was doing with it, I purposely didn't do that. I wanted her to tell me, in her own good time and in her own way. I knew it would be far more exciting if it happened that way, and I was eventually proved right.

It actually took a little longer than a month before Mother asked the question that moved my seduction campaign forward another step, the step that eventually led to it being a success.

It was a Friday when it happened, the fifth Friday after I'd shown her how to look at the videos. But who's keeping track besides me? I'd gone into the kitchen that morning and we'd kissed and hugged the way we always did. Our morning greetings had long since evolved into something much more like what two lovers would do than a mother and son, and we'd gotten used to it. After getting my morning kiss and hug, I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Mother brought me my food, then she sat down, too. That wasn't unusual, quite often she'd sit down and chat with me while I ate breakfast.

"You were right," she said.

I looked up and saw that her face was bright red, but I had no idea what I was right about, or why she seemed to be so embarrassed that I was right. "Right about what?" I asked.

"About...about..." She hugged herself and took a deep breath. Whatever I was right about was difficult for her to talk about. "About...you know...touchin' yourself...you know, on your privates and...and about it feeling good," she finally said, her voice fading away almost to nothing by the time she got it out.

I had a mouthful of pancakes and almost spit them out in surprise. My heart began pounding and it felt as if someone had wrapped a steel band around my chest and pulled it tight. Mother was admitting to me that she'd been masturbating...and telling me she enjoyed it. At least that's what I thought she was saying. I forced myself to chew and swallow the pancakes while I fought to get my emotions under control so I could talk. "So...um...you...ah...you tried it?" I croaked. I wasn't as under control as I wished I was, but...

Mother's face got even redder, she stared at the coffee cup she'd wrapped her hands around, and nodded.

"And it felt good when you did it?" I ventured carefully.

Mother took another deep breath, then she nodded again.

I wasn't sure how what kind of follow-up question to ask, so I didn't say anything. Mother sipped her coffee, kept blushing, and didn't say anything, either.

"Do you understand why I masturbate now?" I asked, finally.

Mother nodded again and sipped a little more coffee. Finally she lifted her head slowly and looked at me. Her lovely brown eyes were wider than I'd ever seen them. "I never knew a person could feel as good as doing that makes me feel," she said softly.

I could have said, "I told you so," but I didn't. I sensed that Mother had more to say, so I remained silent.

"How...how come my momma didn't want me to know about that?" she asked. "How come she was so against it? She said God hates people who touch their privates."

"I'm not exactly sure what she was thinking," I told her. "There are some religions who claim that masturbation is a sin, even though most people do it. Knowing what I do about your family, I think your mother taught you what she did a little because of religion, but maybe more because it was a way of..." I stopped because I realized that I was about to say could have sounded hurtful to Mother.

Mother looked puzzled. "Why didn't you finish what you were saying? Because it was a way of what?" she asked.

"From what you've told me, where you grew up, teenage girls usually had their husbands picked for them by their parents, right?" I asked. "They made deals like my father did for you."

Mother nodded. "Yeah, that's how it was."

"I have a feeling a virgin might be a better deal than a non-virgin, right?" I asked.

Mother nodded again. "My momma always said that no man wanted a woman who was...she called it 'ruined.' I never knew exactly what it meant." I saw her eyes widening as realization dawned on her. "She told me all that stuff so they could get a better deal for me from the guy they married me to," she said.

"I think so," I said. "And probably that's what happened to your mother, too."

"Oh," Mother said.

"The more ignorant you were about sex, the more she was able to have you repress your sexuality, the more value you'd be to a prospective husband," I said. "They might not admit it, but they did have a vague understanding of how powerful sexuality. They were afraid that if they left your sexual feelings develop normally, you'd 'do something', wouldn't be a virgin any more, and they wouldn't be able to get as much for you when they 'sold' you to a prospective husband."

"So I was just a thing to them?" Mother asked. "Something to sell?" Her eyes had reddened and she sounded upset.

I reached over, took her hand in mine, and squeezed it. "Don't beat up on yourself...or them," I said. "I have a feeling what you went through is a process that goes back to the time your ancestors came here from Europe, maybe even before that. Your parents grew up in an isolated area, with other people who thought and acted like they did, so didn't know any different and they couldn't be any different." I squeezed her hand again. "I think the fact that they worked so hard to keep you a virgin may have been because they did realize how special you were and went to some length to keep you safe."

Mother looked at me carefully. "You...do you really think that?" she asked.

I nodded. "You are special. I know that. Any idiot could see that," I said. I realized what I'd said and snorted. "Well any idiot except one, I guess." My father certainly had no idea how special Mother was.

"So...so they didn't tell me about sex stuff because they didn't want me to find out how good it felt?" Mother asked. "They were afraid I'd like it and maybe want to do it more?"

I nodded. "You like the way it feels to touch yourself...to masturbate...don't you?" I said.

Mother blushed and nodded. "I never knew anything could feel that good," she said softly. "I...I...think about it a lot...I...almost all the time."

"You've discovered something new and wonderful, feeling that way makes sense," I said.

Mother looked at me, surprise in her eyes. "It...it does?" she said. "You mean I'm not goin' crazy?"

"I doubt it," I said. "You really like how it feels?"

"I think it's about the best feeling in the world," Mother admitted, her face still rosy. "I...I guess I see now why you do it...and why you wanted to do sex with girls at college." She looked at me and took a deep breath. "Does...does doing sex...does that feel as good as...you know...touching yourself?" she asked hesitantly.

"It feels better," I said.

Mother's eyes widened. "You gotta be kidding!" she exclaimed. "My Lord, if I felt any better, I think I'd go crazy."

I was still holding her hand and squeezed it gently. "Making love with another person feels way better than masturbating," I told her. "And it won't make you crazy. There's only one thing that feels better than making love with someone you like."

"What's that?" Mother asked.

"Making love with someone you love," I said softly. I squeezed her hand again. "I love you."

Mother's eyes were wide again and she continued to gaze at me. "You...you want to...do sex...ah...make love with...with me?"

"More than anything," I told her.

"But...but you're my...my son...my baby," she responded. "Ain't...ain't that wrong...for us to...you know?"

"There are people who think it is," I said. "And there are laws against it in some states. But I think those beliefs and laws came from a different time. I honestly don't believe they make sense when the two people involved are both adults, know what they want, and want each other." I took a deep breath. "When you masturbate, what do you think about?" I asked her. "What gets you turned on?" I gave her hand another gentle squeeze. "When I masturbate, I think about you. I imagine what it would be like to make love with you."

Mother's face got as red as I'd seen it all morning and she went back to staring into her now-empty cup. "You," she said, so softly I could barely hear her. "I...I think about...ah...making love...with you...sorta." She looked up at me. "You really do want to make love with me?"

I nodded again. "More than anything I've ever wanted in my life," I told her.

"Do...do you want...want to...to...to do it now?" she stammered.

"Do you?"

She shrugged. "I...I don't know...I...I'm kinda scared...I don't know what...what to...to do," she said.

I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "When we make love, I want it to be because both of us want to," I said. "I want you to come to me because you want me as bad as I want you and for no other reason." I stood up. "Don't make a decision now," I continued. "Think about it, and when you've made a decision you can tell me..." I paused and took a deep breath. "...or you can come to my room and show me what you want." I leaned down, kissed her on the cheek again; then I straightened up, carried my dishes to the sink, and went outside to work on the woodpile. My heart was pounding, I had one of the hardest erections I'd ever had, and I was fighting the urge to scream out in joy. I was almost positive that, before too much longer, I'd be making love with my mother. Of course, she did struggle with her decision for a little more than a month, but then, one morning...

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