Jimmy T’s Family: Bk. 01: Mombyscouries©
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WARNING: This story involves an incestuous relationship between a mother and her son. Both are over 18 years of age. It's a love story. It also includes scenes of graphic sex. It's approximately four (4) Literotica pages long.
I hope you enjoy it ...
Chapter 1 -- Baltimore, Maryland... June 29th 2011
It was just after I'd clicked from the story back to the picture that I heard the gentle tap on my door. I almost jumped a foot out of my chair! Christ! Mom? Who else could it be? I tucked my cock back into my shorts.
"Mom?" I asked as I spun my desk chair towards the closed door.
"Is it okay to come in?" my mother asked even as my door slowly opened. "Are you decent?" she added as she came into view.
"Of course I'm decent," I answered as I let a smile light up my face. My cock was still tingling.
"I'm not interrupting anything? I saw some light under your door." Moms hesitatingly posed questions came as she stood hovering tentatively three feet into my room.
"Nah, I was just checking my e-mail," I lied as my eyes flicked from my mother to the picture on the computer I still had nestled on my lap. It was a picture of a naked woman; a naked woman who bore a heck of a resemblance to the woman who had just entered my room. Unlike my mother, the woman in the picture was on her knees in front of a clearly younger man. He was a teenager really and he was naked too. He had an erection. A big one. The erection was inches away from the woman's mouth. Her tongue was out.
I clicked the image shut. The story I'd been reading came back up on the screen. It was called, "Ohhh Mommy," I Groaned. It was on my favourite erotic story site. I'd just gotten to the good part before mom's knock.
"I didn't hear you come in. I thought with this being Bri's last night you'd be later..." Brianne Cooper was my girlfriend of the last seven months. Our school year had finished just the week before. Heck our high school careers had finished the week before. She was leaving for her summer camp counsellor's job the next morning. Then next fall she'd be off to University. I was staying home -- a gap year of work and then some travel.
"We hung out together all day." I answered. Had we ever! We'd spent the afternoon in her bed. It had been sorta a last hurrah for the two of us. We'd both known as we'd made love that it would never be the same again between us. It had been hard, deep, almost angry fucking. Goodbye fucking. "She and her mom were busy packing tonight. I was just getting in the way."
"You were watching TV when I came in. I was going to come down and say goodnight but I didn't want to bother you. Then later I heard the shower going." And it was hearing the shower going and then imagining my mother naked under the pulsing water that had sent me to my computer and my favourite mother/son incest site.
"You'll miss her," mom offered as she took another step into my dimly lit room. The only light was that coming from my computer screen and the light that was flowing in around her from the hallway.
"Yeah. I guess," I offered as I stood up and then placed my computer on my desk. My penis was mostly back under control.
"Do you want to talk about it?' mom asked as I flicked on one of my bedside lamps. Of course I did! But instead I whistled in response as I pretended to notice what mom was wearing for the first time.
"What?" she asked even as a blush spread to her cheeks as she watched my eyes traveling over her curves.
Listen, I don't want you to think my mom was dressed in some wildly provocative outfit or something. It wasn't some semi transparent stripper's costume. Nor was she displaying that much skin. I mean mom's breasts weren't hanging out of some spaghetti strapped negligee. She was definitely not trying to give her son some kind of sex show. However, she had put it on before coming down to my room. Which had to have meant something.
Of course I'd already discovered the outfit weeks before in her cupboard. Although mom had a big dresser in her bedroom she also had some built in drawers in her walk-in cupboard. It's where she kept her more risqué stuff. Her secret bedroom stuff. The stuff my sis and I weren't supposed to know about. I'd known by then that just about all of it had come as presents from dad. I'd noticed over the past couple of years that each time he got back from one of his Australian trips that some new intimate item of female apparel would appear in mom's closet. The good stuff! Her 'come over here and fuck me' clothes.
Okay, okay, I know I shouldn't have been skulking around in mom's underwear drawers but what the heck? Teenage boys do weird things. They think weird things. And yes I was only weeks away from my nineteenth birthday that night but habits I'd started way back when I'd been a horny fifteen and sixteen year old still lingered.
What mom was wearing that night was silk. Dad had apparently picked it up during a one night layover in Hong Kong on his way back home from his last trip to Sydney. And although I could only see the outer wrap I knew it was a three piece outfit of cream colored silk with lace trim -- a pair of high cheeked panties, a gossamer thin, tres décolleté negligee that stopped at mid thigh and finally a modest outer wrap with sash that theoretically was meant to hide the pure sexiness of the undergarments. In practice it didn't hide the curves of the body it was covering. It only highlighted them.
I let mom's blush deepen for many seconds before I finally asked with a fake leer, "Ma, do you have a secret boyfriend or something."
"Ha ha!" she declaimed but I couldn't help but detect the satisfaction at my backhanded compliment that I'd heard echoed in her voice. "It's just something your father brought back from Asia. Just pj's for sleeping in."
Yeah right I thought. A week earlier I'd spent a half hour lying on mom's bed while stroking my raging penis with the soft silk she was now wearing. My cock twitched in my shorts as I remembered the feeling. "You and dad aren't doing some of that kinky Asian stuff now are you?" I asked with a leer.
"JIMMY!" A blush. A coy smile. A challenge. Excitement. It was all there. Mom was sexually frustrated and I knew why. "And just what do you know about kinky Asian stuff anyway?" she asked when I didn't reply to her admonishment.
"I'm just joshing you mom," I answered.
Then for a minute or two the two of us just stood warily watching each other, neither of us suddenly able to continue the conversation. My mom was horny and I'm not even sure she knew it!
Mom broke first, dropping her eyes and then almost shyly saying, "Well I guess I better leave you ... it's late ... goodnight." She slowly started to back towards the door but I knew instinctively she wanted to stay and talk.
I almost let her get to the door before I asked, "Do you like Bri mom?" She immediately stopped.
"Why, would you like to talk about her?" mom asked as she turned back toward me. She certainly did. What mother doesn't want to talk about her son's girlfriend?
I encouraged her further by saying, "It's weird, I know I'm going to miss her but I'm sorta almost glad she's going." Then I sat down on the old sofa that I'd rescued from the rec room when dad had bought a new one a year earlier. It sagged a bit but was way comfortable. I patted the spot next to me in invitation. Mom, not hesitating, plopped down next to me. Her clinging robe couldn't hide the movement of her breasts under the soft cloth. Breasts I'd been increasingly dreaming off over the past year. They were definitely bigger than Bri's. And, even though I'd given a hell of a lot of attention to my girlfriend's tits over the preceding months, I knew the ones still lightly heaving next to me were infinitely more attractive to me.
Which, yes, I knew was wrong. But you know what? It had got to the point where I didn't care. The guilt I'd originally felt over my incestuous desire has slowly ebbed away as the weeks and months had passed. There was only the pure sexual desire left now. My eyes flicked down to the two nipplish bumps that pushed against the cloth. I let her catch me doing it.
I wanted my mother! I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to fuck her tits. Hers ass. Her mouth. Her pussy ... her cunt. And I'd decided I was going to, one way or another. And besides, if I didn't do it I'd increasingly started to believe that somebody else would. I'd been watching her ever since it had occurred to me that mom had been going without sex almost six months every year. And every day, given her looks, guys had to be hitting on her. It would only take one weak moment on her part...
And dad was off again. It'd be mid August before he'd get back from Australia this time. Which meant that I had lots of time. A summer of time. A loving summer? I didn't have to rush. And heck, even if I hadn't succeeded by the time my father returned I knew there'd be another opportunity in the fall. And then again in January. And I'd decided that I wasn't leaving home until I'd bedded her.
But my cock was in a rush... he was always in a rush! He definitely didn't want to wait.
But what do you mean about your mother going without sex for six months every year you might be asking yourself. Well...
You know, you don't have a fucking clue what's going on in the real world when you're a kid. The world revolves around only one person -- yourself -- and you're blissfully ignorant of what's going on in the minds of the adults that surround you.
Slowly, of course, that changes as you get older. Awareness slowly seeps in. Puberty arrives. Sex happens. If you're a female reading this it's hard for me to explain to you what it feels like to be a fifteen or sixteen year old boy with your hormones raging. Your brain descends to your cock. You have one priority in life.
I'd gone through the same things every boy does these days -- masturbation ... xxx movies on the internet ... awkward groping of my girlfriends ... then eventually intercourse. I'd been relatively lucky as I'd traversed those years and had emerged as a relatively normal heterosexual teenager. Sitting next to mom on the couch that night I'd already had sex with seven women -- a number I knew mom would never have guessed or believe.
But there was another aspect that had come with growing up over the previous couple of years. It was an awareness of my parents as sexual beings. I'd figured out that adults do have sex! I'd actually heard them doing it. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that I finally figured out what the sounds that I'd heard for years coming out from my parents bedroom at night really were. More than once in the past year I'd sat outside their bedroom, my ear tight against the door, as they'd made love. It was exciting! Fuck, it was more than that. I'd masturbated, stroking my cock even as dad pumped his penis into my mother. And of course I couldn't stop myself from thinking that maybe it might just be fun for me to take a turn.
And my parents did it often; it wasn't one of those once a month marriages. They fucked every night!
...Except, as I told you already, they only did it about six months a year! Huh?
My father met my mother about twenty years ago. He was twenty-two years old at the time. He'd been cramming for the final exam of his college career when a sudden craving for a pizza had driven him from his apartment to the food court at the local mall.
Dad in recounting the story years later (actually my sister and I probably heard or overheard the story a hundred times growing up) said, 'I walked into that restaurant and there was an angel working the register. Her halo almost blinded me.' Every time he said those words Mom would blush and deny them. I'm pretty sure it wasn't mom's halo that captured dad's attention that day; it only takes a couple of seconds of flipping through one of mom's old photo albums to figure out that she, even at sixteen, must have turned just about every male head who encountered her. But a couple of things were unmistakable to anyone who had ever heard the story -- one, that the two of them had fallen in love at first sight; and two, they didn't fool around in getting together. This was not one of those romances that slowly evolved over months or years.
They had sex for the first time within two weeks of meeting (I only learned that fact many years later). Mom had been a virgin. This wasn't that surprising given that she was only sixteen at the time. News of which (imparted by mom to dad immediately afterwards -- mind you the blood was a clue dad couldn't have missed) had been quite a shock to my father. Like he almost had a heart attack. Mom had apparently hinted at their first meeting that she was almost nineteen and had some sexual experience. She wasn't and she hadn't!
But in spite of mom's age Dad had no intention or interest in turning back. He was ready to rumble! He was in love! A week later he approached my grandfather and asked for the hand of Sarah Elizabeth Simmons in marriage. Mom's parents had been even more astounded by the request than dad had been at finding out mom's real age.
"Are you crazy?" had been grandpa's first words to dad. They'd been quickly followed by, "you better not have done anything or I'll..."
My cells, or what were to become my cells, were already dividing merrily inside my mother that day. Of course no one knew that at the time. And somehow my old man convinced grandpa that not only was he a perfect match for his daughter but that the wedding should proceed almost immediately. And mom's parents weren't pushovers! Their daughter was going to go to University. She was going to have a career. That's how they'd brought her up.
But dad somehow convinced them even though he'd only known their daughter for two weeks. Which just shows you what a great salesman my father was (and still is).
Marriage quickly followed. Then at the appropriate time I, James Christopher Taylor, popped out. Then eleven months after my birth my little sister Lizzie was born. Elizabeth Emily Taylor. Our family was complete.
My parents, with the help of both sets of my grandparents, had quickly bought a great little house on a tree lined street in a middle class Baltimore suburb and settled down. Mom was a stay at home mother until both Liz and I started school. Then, as she'd promised her parents before marrying, she'd gone back to school and gotten a degree. Sounds like the All-American family doesn't it?
Except for one little oddity. My dad's job. As I've already told you Dad was a born salesman! A go getter. A risk taker. An entrepreneur. A guy on the lookout for the main chance. And he'd found it. In Australia of all places! He'd stumbled on it even before he'd met mom.
My old man was a Psych major with an Accounting minor (of all things) and he spent the spring term of his junior year of his college life as a transfer student at the University of New South Wales in Sidney, Australia.
Somehow, in spite of the nude beaches, the beer drinking culture, and of course the kangaroos, he'd figured out in his six month stint in Australia that there were a heck of a lot of midsized Aussie companies that didn't have any sales representation in the States. It had started with one of his classmate's father, an owner of a metal stamping plant. A couple of comments by this man over dinner one night had awakened my father's interest. Something clicked!
When he left Sydney that summer he'd already set up "Taylor AustralAmerican Trading Corp.". A company that was the exclusive American sales agent for three companies he'd already signed up.
And during his senior year of university he'd still found time to get the company up and running, and had opened an office and small warehouse in Baltimore. By the time he'd met mom the next May the company had already booked a surprising number of orders.
And so, after graduating, and after marrying mom, he was back off to Australia. And when he went he was the exclusive Australian agent for a variety of small American manufacturers. Why not move goods both ways he'd figured. Correctly. A Sydney office was opened!
And so, for the last twenty years, dad has spent almost half of his time in Australia. Yo-yoing back and forth; two months running the American side of his business followed by two months in Sydney directing the Australian side.
Which meant, getting back to my parents present sex life, that my parents, who I'd finally figured out were pretty active sexually, had gone through twenty years of two or three months on, two or three months off-again sex.
And as a now eighteen, almost nineteen, year old male with a pretty darn active libido, it was pretty clear to me that something didn't add up. There was no way dad wasn't getting laid while he was in Australia! It was impossible if he had anything like the sex drive I had. And having listened to my parents going at it I was pretty sure he did.
So what the hell was he doing? Whores? Prostitutes? Girlfriends? Mistresses? Did he live with someone while there? What did he do when he was Down Under? He'd always talked glowingly about Australia to us, the beauty of its land and strangeness of its animals. He'd brought my sister and me presents back from every trip he'd made. But when I'd finally started asking myself what he was doing for sex while down there I realised that I really didn't know that much about his life in Australia. Where he lived. How he lived. And even more strangely was that he'd never taken any of us on a holiday to a country he professed to love. The question, 'Why not', had been reverberating in my head for months.
I'd already taken the first tentative steps to find out just what the heck was going on with him Down Under just weeks before that night with mom. And although I had no idea what I'd find I knew I'd find something.
Meanwhile, when my thoughts eventually turned to mom and what she was doing during dad's absences, I'd slowly come to the conclusion that so far she hadn't ever fooled around while dad was away. I figured I would have noticed something. But I was starting to know enough about women to know that eventually she'd succumb to someone. She was just too darn good looking. And with her now out of the house working five days a week I knew guys had to be hitting on her right and left. Even some of my buddies had made it clear that mom was a true MILF. She was a walking target!
And given the noise she made with dad at night I was pretty darn sure she liked it! So she liked it but wasn't getting it. Which sounded like a recipe for disaster to me.
So why not me? What would be better -- mom screwing some married co-worker or making love with someone who loved her? Who'd never hurt her.
Yes it was incest and when the idea first had sprung into my head I'd tried to repulse it. That's so disgusting I'd told myself. But ideas like that, once born, are not so easy to forget. Especially when the woman in question is sleeping down the hall from you. And when you can hear the sounds of her lovemaking six months a year. Even harder to ignore are the months she's sleeping alone. Knowing she loves sex but is going without. Knowing she's dreaming of cock. And you see her every single day.
And besides I knew my dad just had to be getting some in Sydney. And I'd convinced myself over the previous little while that daddy would be much better off with me warming mom's bed when he was gone instead of some sleazy homebreaker. Well I'd almost convinced myself of that...