There was no denying it anymore ... I wanted to fuck my mother.
On April 22nd, 2002, my mother, then 47 year old Carrie Harper, became a widow for the second time. She had come home from working at the local school as a teacher's aid, and found her common law husband dead to rights in his bathroom. He had had a stroke.
I was at work and when I got home, I discovered she had left me a terrified message. But that had been 6 hours before I finished my shift. I had rushed over to her house, only to find her in the arms of his daughters. I was not a very demonstrative man – I offered my sympathies in the form of patted shoulders and squeezed hands. My mother looked at me understandingly while his daughters scolded me with furious gazes. They had accepted Carrie as their mother – even regarding their bond with her as stronger and more relevant than mine. They had a point.
At the service, they had to coerce me into giving her at least a comforting hug. But when I took her in my arms, held her close and smelled the sweet scent of her perfume and felt the pressure of her tits against my chest, long held back feelings flooded out of both of us. Our tears mingled as we held our faces close to one another. She might have been crying for the loss of the man, but my tears were for her being free to come back into my life.
I knew his daughter's would never forgive me for becoming her son again.
Carrie and I decided I should move in with her. I quickly broke my lease and Carrie found us a nice two bedroom apartment.
Routine set in quickly – Carrie ... Mom, worked at school and prepared us sumptuous dinners while I worked at the plant. Over the months, I realized my mother picked up with me where she left off after he died. She was my caretaker instead of the other way around. His daughters also soon became shades of the past.
That's when an old demon from the past resurfaced.
My family has always had a love/hate relationship with the bottle. Many a feud has been sparked and extinguished by 80 proof scotch. And a bottle of 12 year-old single malt was the instigator of one of the sexiest nights of my life.
I was pulling a double-shift at the plant so I only got home around midnight. Mom was aware of this, but I was surprised to see lights on. I unlocked the door, walked into the kitchen, and found my mother sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of Jura scotch with its distinctive green glass and carved cross resting by her side.
"Hey baby," she slurred as she rose to greet me. Mom wore a man's shirt – wore it well, by the way -- and I realized with a rush it was one of mine. "Give your mommy a kiss."
I hesitated a moment and then leaned over to kiss the cheek she offered. The shirt fell open and since the first 3 buttons were undone, I was granted the spectacle of her big, luscious tits. Mom steadied herself by grasping my forearm and kissed my cheek in turn. My face flushed when her hot breath hit my skin just before her full lips marked me.
"Mom," I said. I had stopped using her first name after the second month we had been living together. "I'd guess your were drinking, but I think you're already drunk."
"Yeah. Been drunk for a while. Been longer while since I've been drunk." Mom fell back into her seat and laughed – her tits jiggled against the fabric of my shirt and her nipples grew like ripe buds. It was weird that her laugh sounded its most natural when she drank – but I was happy to hear such a heartfelt chuckle. And I was thankful for the free view I was getting.
"You gonna share?" I asked as I pulled off my jacket and sat opposite her. She handed me the bottle and I drew a long swill, the golden liquid warm and soothing against my throat. I noticed how long and elegant her fingers were. "Now you going to tell me why you broke out the good stuff?"
"It was Mike," mom whispered before downing her shot. She then filled the glass with a trembling hand. "You telling me you were going to be late reminded me of him. The first time really since he ... he died."
I said nothing and watched her big green eyes, like emerald against the light. "I miss him," she continued, a noted tremor in her voice. "I miss his cock..."
My jaw dropped at that comment – I expected her to talk about missing his presence, the way he made her laugh ... but not his cock. "Really?" was all I could muster.
"Oh yeah ... Mike was huge." She matter-of-factly put her had flat against the table and raised it till it was level with the top of the bottle. "That was Mike ... He'd fill me up with each stroke and could fuck all night."
I took the scotch and drank deep – I looked at the ceiling, trying to block the conjured image of my mother on her back while being hammered by a huge cock. But it was there – her tits would have been flailing all over as a huge shaft of meat slipped in and out of her slopping pussy. She would be wrapping her long legs around his thighs so his meat would go in even deeper until he shot a load of creamy come up her baby chute and she would be squirming with delight.
"Mom," I started, wanting to cut the story short before my own cock broke free to shoot a load across the table. But mom stood up and stumbled toward one of the cupboards where we stashed the chips. I gazed as she reached up to get a bag – the shirt rode up and exposed her ass. I stared at two beautiful ass cheeks shielding what had to be a delightful pucker of an ass hole. I was sure my face was red.
"He said you were huge, too."
"Oh yeah! Remember when you'd come over for a dip in the pool when it was really hot in summer? Well, we were drinking and arguing – what else is new – and he told me that he saw you get out of the pool one night and saw you change. He said you were huge – he told me if I'd seen it, mother or not I would've jumped you like the cock slut I was. He said if I knew what you'd been hiding I probably would've been your first. Fucking bastard. But he fucked me that night ... I must've come 3 times in a row. The bastard."
Well, my face had to be red after that comment. While it was true I was rather ... endowed. I had never taken the time to measure my own cock. I always found that pure size could only take you so far, and unless you knew what to do with it, your sex life was a dud.
"Is it?" mom asked, looking at me intently.
"Is your cock huge?" Mom was looking at me with a slight pout. Her long red hair framed her face with an air of perfect innocence, but her green eyes were bristling with deviousness.
"That's ... I ..." I stammered as I tried to cope with the fact my mother and her lover discussed the size of my dick – and that she wanted to know if it was true.
"I'm just teasing you, Blake," mom assured me then, releasing me from having to tell her. She ran her fingers through her thick red hair. "Take me to bed, Blake."
I was walking around the table to help her when what she said sank in.
"I mean I want you to help me to my bed, dumb-dumb."
Relieved, I grabbed her waist and she draped an arm around my shoulders and rested her head against my chest. We slowly made it to her room. I switched on a lamp and she stumbled her way to the bed, cursing now and then when she stubbed her toe. Mom suddenly fell forward, about a foot away from her bed and I reached out instinctively to catch her, wrapping my arms around her tiny waist. I pulled her to me, sure that it was the only way to steady her; the shirt was bunched around her waist – she was leaning with her hands on the mattress, her bare ass pressing against my crotch. We stayed like that for a few seconds, my blood engorged cock braced by the firm sides of her ass.
"Thanks," she said breathlessly while I let her go and she climbed into bed.
"It is," I dared say.
"Hummm?" she sighed after closing her eyes, about to drift into drunken sleep.
"My cock is huge."
Three o'clock in the morning – do you know where your children are? I knew where I was – drunk at the kitchen table with the nearly empty bottle of Jura as my only companion. My mother – my sleek, sexy and barely dressed mother was sound asleep. Maybe she was dreaming about huge cocks. Maybe she was dreaming about mine.
My erection had not gone down since I caught sight of her marvellous melons. I had hoped the booze would have calmed me down, but it had just speared my desire. The alcohol clouded my thinking, but I reasoned that at this very moment in time, away from prying eyes, my mother was Carrie Harper and Carrie liked to be fucked. I finished the scotch with a single guzzle.
That was when I heard a low moan filter down from the hallway, drifting in the air from my mother's room.
Like a sailor drawn to crash his boat upon the reefs by the sirens' song, I got up and walked to mom's room. My steps were unsteady; I supported myself with the walls as I swayed from one side of the hall to the next; the empty bottle of scotch was clutched firmly in my grip when I reached the threshold of her room. Mom always slept with the lamp on.
Mom slept with her back to me, but there was no denying that her hand had slipped between her legs as she slept and she was rubbing her lovely thighs together, lathering her fingers with the pungent juices of her cunt. My shirt was still bunched up around her waist. Mom was in a kind of foetus position and I could see the reddish, pouty edges of her pussy lips – they were surrounded by a luxuriant tangle of red pubic hair. I crept into the room and fell to my knees before her pussy's splendour. I leaned in close and breathed in the musky aroma emanating from her pussy – the effect was dazzling. I felt blood rush to every extremity of my body, a generalized tingling focusing then from there down toward my hard cock. When mom moaned another time my entire body shivered. I was drunk with scotch but drugged by desire to possess my mother in ways unfit for a son.
I placed the bottle on the bed and puckered my lips and planted a light kiss on my mother's gorgeous ass. When I did that she moaned and stretched her top leg and moved her ass toward me. The bottle touched her bush and she gasped lightly, but her eyes were still closed. She must have thought she was still dreaming. I looked from the bottle to mom's cunt and that evil desire erupted – I slowly placed the bottle neck at the opening of her pussy and she thrust backwards, engulfing the top. In a trance I began to move the bottle back and forth, in and out of her pussy while kissing her ass.
Her moans were quiet but insistent as we fucked with a bottle as my surrogate. I could feel her juices flow freely down the neck and across my hand – when I started to twist the bottle while pumping her pussy, she writhed and her moans became louder. I felt my balls constrict and almost pulsate at the sight of her cunt lips sliding up and down the green glass.
"Oh baby!" mom moaned and she turned onto her back. To help her I put her leg on my shoulder, which gave me even more access to her hairy bush and wet pussy.
"Hmmm ..." mom sighed as I increased speed of the bottle. I wrapped my arm around her thigh and placed my hand palm down on her triangle of pubic hair – like that, I was able to spread her pussy open and tease her electrified clit. Mom arched her back off the bed when I touched her secret love button.
"Oh shit!!" she screamed as she came, juices from her pussy staining my hand and the sheets.
"Mom," I said. "That was beautiful."
"Blake?" mom asked meekly at the sight of her leg on my shoulder and me pulling a bottle from between her legs. Horror registered in her eyes, but at the same time she did not move or push away the hand I kept on her bush.
"Baby, what did you do?"
"Mom ... I heard you. You were moaning like you were fucking. And I remembered what you told me about Mike. I came to your room and you were just there. Open. You seemed like your were waiting. I couldn't stop myself, so I touched you. You responded and I couldn't stop."
Mom put her hand on the one that I had on her bush. "Blake, do you know how wrong this is? I was dreaming ... you, but this isn't the same."
In response, I dropped the bottle on the bed and stood up. Mom was unsure of what I was about to do so she hugged her knees to her chest. I slowly undid my shirt and let it fall to the ground. Mom just looked at my body – I knew my shoulders and arms were thick and muscled and my chest was lightly hairy and developed from the physical labour of the plant. I then peeled off my jeans and boxers and my cock jutted out, long and thick and ready to please and be pleased.
Mom's eyes seemed to focus then – she zeroed in on my hard meat and she unfurled her legs and stretched them out on the bed.
"Blake, no," mom said without conviction when I reached out and stroked her hair. "This is so wrong."
"I know," I answered, but I crawled on the bed on my knees, my cock pointed in her direction, unwilling to be dissuaded. "I know it's wrong, but look where we are. I've already made you come with a bottle. It's only fitting we see this through and I make you come with the huge cock you've been dreaming about."
"No," she moaned again when I took each side of my shirt she wore and yanked them violently apart, e exposing her gloriously firm c-cups. Mom's skin was pale but her nipples were long and pointy and red. Like strawberries ripe just before the harvest.
I laid myself down beside her and grabbed the bottle and brought it to my lips. I licked it clean of her juices. "I did this mom. I made you come. You have a dirty son, mom. A dirty son whose cock is hard for his beautiful, dirty mom. What should a dirty mom do about her dirty son?"
My mother was somewhere else when she pulled the torn shirt off and laid down opposite me on her queen sized bed. She then reached out between us and touched my cock – it twitched expectantly in response.
Mom gazed into my eyes, her green irises seeming almost dark and malevolent. "A dirty mom should fuck her dirty son, shouldn't she?"
I nodded. I reached out and touched her tit, pinching the hard nipple between my fingers while mom slowly jacked me off. We then both rested our heads on the pillow and I placed the bottle between us. We both knew what we were about to do, so we both started to lick the come soaked sides of the bottle. We savoured the salty tang of her pussy juices as our tongues swarmed across the glass's smooth surface – it was like our tongues were old tall ships pursuing each other on the open sea. When they grazed, their edges electric with passion, our bodies were racked with sensual convulsions. It did nott take long that the bottle was put aside and I was plunging my tongue deeply into my mom's wanton mouth.
The violence of our kisses reflected the conflicting emotions were feeling: my mother would be licking my lips one minute and then she would be bitting my cheek out of desperate anger. For my part I would hold her tongue between my teeth and give her nipples a hard pinch while she grasped my ball sac. But all the anger and denial was fading away and fiery passion fuelled our lovemaking. I had shifted position back on to my knees and mom was on her back. I held her big tits together and covered them with adoring kisses. Each kiss was interceded by a gasp and sigh as mom slid her hand between my legs and traced a line from the top of my crack, across my ass hole and balls to the tip of my cock and back.
I squeezed her tits together and spat lightly on her nipples before flicking my tongue across their jagged surface – mom quivered and shook when I traced little figure eights. I saw from the corner of my eyes the sight of my mother sucking on the bottle like she would be giving me such a quintessential blow job. She was pumping my meat while sucking on the bottle.
The signal seemed clear.
My mom's skin was salty as I kissed my way from her tits toward her secret triangle. We both fell on our sides, at opposite ends to one another. Mom spread her legs when my hard tongue found the top of the crevice of her pussy. I felt the sumptuous warmth of the inside of her mouth as she took me beyond her thick lips. Her tongue played like little fingers against the veiny girth of my engorged cock.
We started to hump each other's faces when I touched her clit – I was drawing ovals while I lapped at mom's cunt, starting from her clit, down her lips, teasing the moist opening and then going back to her clit. I felt her arch her back to better meet my probing tongue. I would sometimes pause to suck any drops of her juices that might be mingled in her spicy tangle of pubic hair. I did not know if she was getting all my cock into her small mouth, but she would be by the end since I was uncontrollably fucking her mouth – she gagged sometimes when I went in too far, but it lasted only a moment as she quickly relaxed and I sank deeper past her lips. I enjoyed the way her perfect teeth grazed the silky skin of my hard-on. I wished I could see her convulse with my cock in her mouth – I took a perverted pride in knowing she was racked by orgasm when I bit gently down her clit while she was almost chocking back on my meat.
But it was my turn to be paralysed with pleasure: my mother was squeezing my balls and she had knowingly slipped a finger in my ass all the way to the sweet spot on my prostate. I twisted my head a bit to better see my mom's head bobbing fore and aft while her arms were wrapped tight around my thighs. She had taken over the pleasuring and she was sucking my cock with abandon – she was not neglecting herself either with the way she was thrusting her hips, ensuring that her clit was rubbing against my stubbled chin. My thinking became more and more dissident, the only image I could conjure being mom's lips wrapped around my cock, seeking to milk it of all its creamy come. That image became a reality when I caught my breath and felt my cock explode with rapturous force – mom's finger was deeper in to my ass and I could feel it tickle my prostate, forcing an even greater flow of my come to coat her welcoming throat. My legs spasmed with pleasure but mom held steadfast, gagging and assuredly swallowing my river of come. All the time she furiously rubbed her pussy against my face, covering me with and equal amount of her own fluids.
When she released me, we lied there, listening to each other breathe in those deep, post-orgasm breaths.
We were back to facing each other. Mom smiled contentedly as she scooped up some of my come that dribbled out of her mouth and she proceeded to lick her fingers dry. She made sure I saw that she made a point of swallowing each and every ounce.
"We're perverts, aren't we?" she asked as she caressed my face. "Perverted members of a perverted family and only meant to pervert each other."
I licked her lips, savouring the mix of her saliva and my come. "Perverts of a feather fuck together, I suppose."
She laughed, but there was a hint of sadness in it. It was not the lighthearted chuckle of earlier that night, but how could it ever be again?
"Does the dirty son wan to fuck his dirty mother?" she asked while stroking my cock back to life.
"Yes," I hissed as my cock grew long and ready again. Mom stared at it hungrily – the spark in her eyes somehow inflamed my passions and I flipped her onto her stomach and rubbed the length of my cock down her ass crack; I lightly poked her ass hole with the head of my shaft before guiding it down lower to touch her pussy lips – I slipped into where I had emerged from 30 years before and we both gasped at the ... intimacy and unique quality of the connection we suddenly shared. Blake Harper was Carrie Harper's son, but we understood that our incest was the unification of one another. All the hesitation and pain we felt because we gave in to our basest dark desires dissipated. There was a single entity involved in this lovemaking, a person long separated from some essential essence.