tagIncest/TabooThe Mom Memories: William's Story

The Mom Memories: William's Story


This is William's story started in Chapter 14.

All characters are 18 years or older.


Part 1 from Chapter 14.

My father's name is Bill and mine is William. That's right, William. Rather than being Bill Junior, I insisted on William after turning thirteen. Before that everyone called me Billy or, if my father was present, Junior. I think the choice made me grow up with more poise and maturity than most of my peers. After the teasing in that first year, being referred to as William just demanded more deference somehow and I learned to carry a certain quiet authority in my mannerism.

My mother's name is Linda. Bill and Linda were a popular couple in their younger days, hosting a lot of parties when my sister and I were growing up. But eventually the parties declined in frequency, attracted fewer new people, and slowly petered out. Still, it was a few years before my sister managed to turn the large party room in the basement into her private domain. The shift was more rapid for me, over my sister's objections, when she left for college. The only compromise I had to make was to store some of her stuff off to one end of the room but that wasn't such a big deal. After she left, I threw a tarp over it and painted it with a can of black spray paint, the dominant color in my new decor.

Dad was nearing the end of his career but rather than winding down that meant he was required to handle increasingly important issues for his company. He was away a lot but was well compensated, allowing my mother to retire, even though she was fourteen years his junior at only 46 years old (Mom was my father's second marriage, he her first). My father did slow down on the home front. His work was taxing and he simply didn't have extra energy to expend when he was home. He had always been a workaholic, so it just wasn't in his nature to lower his commitment to work near the end of his career; he needed to go out with at least one more achievement under his belt.

That left Mom alone while Dad was traveling, or even when he was home. She had long ago stopped accompanying Dad on his business trips since he worked even more on his trips than he did at home. When she had gone she was just bored and alone in strange cities, or stuck with another corporate wife who felt equally saddled. It was worse for Mom after my sister left because that's who she talked with when Dad was gone. Most of her friends were still working hard on their careers. Mom had never really been a career woman, being happy to leave work while my sister and I were growing up, and reluctant to return when we started school. Still, Mom was bored after quitting work.

She started coming down to visit me in the dungeon I had transformed my sister's room into, or had ruined according to my sister after Mom told her what I'd done. I have to say, I considered it quite an annoyance at first, but I realized that Mom was going through a difficult period of her life. She had only been 'retired' a few months, enough time to be bored silly but not sufficient to adopt new interests. So Mom would wander downstairs to visit me almost any time day or night. She had a hard time sleeping now and knew I was a night owl, so she would often knock quite late at night if dim light showed under the door, and eventually she just tapped a warning knock and then walked right in.

Now, I know you're thinking she caught me masturbating, but that didn't happen. Mom just became comfortable wandering in to hang out with me, and I with her being there. In a way it was cool. Mom and I got to know each other as people, well enough for her to be comfortable lying on my bed or in the old chair, sometimes without even talking while I played a computer game and she read a book. She just liked being near someone and I grew to prefer having her around to being alone.

Of course, when Mom visited me later at night, she was usually wearing her nightgown, robe and slippers rather than her typical day fare of blouse and slacks or skirt. I didn't really pay any attention to this at first until the thought crossed my mind one evening when Mom came down to visit even though Dad was home. Mom and Dad never got 'together' at night. Now, I know they used to because I had heard them when I was younger and my sister mentioned how noisy they were after she first moved downstairs. Their room was right above this one and unmistakable sounds floated down the heat vents but my sister only let me sneak down to listen once.

When that memory resurfaced in my mind, I couldn't help thinking about it more and more. They weren't doing it anymore? Yeah, my Dad was getting old, seemingly stressed all the time, and distracted, but my Mom looked younger than her age by a few years. She couldn't have lost interest in sex yet, I thought, not looking the way she did. I mean, she wasn't a raving beauty but she was at least as good looking as Julianne Moore. Still, I was positive that my mom wasn't involved with anybody, and wouldn't be. She was just going through a difficult time. I felt a tremendous softness toward her.

Of course, that didn't stop me from appreciating her form. After all, I was eighteen. As my eyes roamed over her, lying across the end of my bed reading a pocket book, I found myself wishing it was during the day when she would have been wearing a skirt that would show her legs better. I tried to remember the shape of her legs but I had no memories stored there for reference; I simply hadn't logged that kind of information about my mother.

Feigning interest in my laptop (I was keeping up with friends on facebook) I let my eyes glance furtively over Mom's upper body since her legs were wrapped in her full length robe. I had better fortune here because her robe had worked loose and opened enough for me to see the nightdress underneath. I found myself wishing I could see her in just the nightdress. It was a shimmery looking blue material, edged in a white lace border about an inch wide that let me see her skin through the tiny holes in the lace. That was the second time in my life that I felt my cock stir in response to my mom, the first being that time I heard her and Dad at the cost of having my sister ridicule me for getting a boner listening to my own mother getting fucked.

I felt this horrible guilt but at the same time a thrill shot through me, spreading from the tip of my swelling member and through to my loins. My eyes traveled higher, over the curve of her breasts as they swelled above the neckline of her nightdress because of the pressure on them from the way she was lying. A few more inches and -- christ, her eyes were looking right at me. I blushed, too stunned to look away, my muscles incapable of responding and my brain similarly incapacitated.

Mom smiled, "Would you like me to make some hot chocolate?"

I nodded, at least I tried to: my neck muscles resisted my commands. Mom flipped her book over on the bed to save her place and slipped off the bed. The goofiest thought crossed through my mind, about how she would lecture me about how that wasn't good for the binding when I did that with my own books. When I finally managed to operate my head again, she was by the door.

"It's freezing in here," she commented, turning the dial on the thermostat before disappearing into the night.

What the fuck was going on with me? I had just got caught looking at my mother's cleavage. She had to know what I was looking at. How bloody embarrassing. Jesus! How could I face her? I should just pretend I was tired and fell asleep.

I closed my laptop and put it on the bedside table, slipped out of my t-shirt and jeans and under the covers, and closed my eyes. A moment later I sat up. This is stupid. She knows I'm a night owl. She'll know something's wrong. I should just brazen it out, act as if nothing happened. That's it. I was just about to get out of bed and back into my jeans when Mom appeared through the door again, carrying a tray with two huge mugs of hot chocolate, some cookies and cheese.

"Hey, lazybones. What are you doing in bed already?"

"Oh, uh, I was feeling kind of tired."

"Tired? Really? I was about to see if you want to watch that new movie, the one you downloaded on your laptop. You're not really tired are you?"

Mom set the tray down on the table on the other side of my bed, picked up one of the mugs and handed it to me, then passed me the plate with the cookies on it.

"Come on," she said, "watch a movie with me."

"Ok, Mom."

I was relieved that my transgression seemed to be history. I set the plate of cookies beside me and turned to set my mug down and pick up my laptop. My nervousness returned with a bang when I turned back, placing the laptop on my lap. Mom was standing on the other side of the bed removing her robe. I quickly turned my face to my laptop, concentrating on firing it up, but my attention strained toward my peripheral vision, trying to see without looking. I felt more than saw her pull the covers back and slip into bed beside me, plump up the pillow to make herself comfortable before pulling the covers up and over her breasts, but not before I had a fleeting glimpse of bouncing mammaries. I was distinctly aware that she was dressed only in her nightdress, lying only a foot away from me.

Mom watched me start up the movie, then turned to get her own mug and the other plate with the chunks of cheese, setting it beside the cookie plate between us. We watched the movie for awhile but I was very tense and couldn't tell you what happened. Slowly, I began to relax.

"Drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold, honey," Mom's voice broke through to me.

Looking down, I realized I was still holding an almost full mug and Mom's was half gone. I immediately raised it to my lips and took a big gulp.

Mom picked up a cookie and handed it to me but I couldn't take it because I was holding the mug and the laptop still on my lap, so she held the cookie to my lips and pressed it in so I could take a bite.

"It's been a long time since I had to feed you," she laughed, holding the cookie a few inches away, waiting for me to finish chewing.

You might have thought her closeness would have made me even more nervous but it seemed to have the opposite effect. The familiarity relaxed me. I snapped my mouth open like Malcom McDowall in 'A Clockwork Orange' which Mom and I had watched a couple of weeks earlier upstairs.

Mom laughed, realizing the joke, and slipped the cookie in as per my silent demand. I chewed in an exaggerated fashion, took a sip of hot chocolate, and opened my mouth wide for more. We played that silly game until the cookie was gone.

"More?" Mom asked, holding the plate up to me.

I shook my head and she turned to set the plate down on the opposite table. I couldn't help turning to look at her back. The nightdress dipped down lower in the back than it did in the front, showing Mom's unblemished skin and a sexy groove running up the middle, tracing her spine. I felt myself stir again.

Mom picked up the cheese plate and set it on her lap, shifting closer to me, her legs almost touching mine. She picked up a finger of cheddar and nibbled on it until it was gone while we resumed watching the movie. She picked up another piece of cheddar and nibbled it, then turned to place it on my lips. I took a little bite without renewing the cookie game. Mom held her hand a few inches away, watching the screen, waiting. As soon as I finished chewing, she offered the cheese again, not even looking at me.

As I chewed, she took a small bit herself, and held it in front of her. I looked down while she was intent on the movie because I suddenly realized the covers had been lying in her lap since she had started feeding me the cookie so her arm could move. Though her arm now covered most of her breasts, parts were still visible. I admired their round, curvy shape and the way that even the tiniest movement jostled them about, and how wonderfully erotic that was. Perhaps noticing my attention, Mom raised the cheese to my lips again and I took another small bite. She returned it to her own mouth for another nibble, never taking her eyes off the movie while I glanced discreetly at her breasts.

I shifted my position, feigning discomfort just to shake the bed, and her breasts. I opened my mouth for another bite and Mom dutifully raised the cheese to my lips. I engulfed the whole thing in my mouth, including the tips of her fingers.

"Hey," she cried, laughing, "I guess I better feed you more often."

I watched as she picked up the last piece of cheese, enjoying the brief absence of her covering arm from the front of her breasts, allowing me an uninterrupted view of her cleavage, for the first time seeing how low the neckline of her nightdress actually plunged between those sexy pieces of human tissue. We shared a few small bites, as before. I'm sure I was enjoying it far more than Mom since she seemed oblivious to the tantalizing sexual overtones encompassing that mini meal. When the piece was short, though, Mom placed it to my lips gingerly. I gulped it in and her fingers too, closing my lips over them to tug the cheese away.

"Hey," she cried again, "you little bugger," laughing at my prank.

Mom pulled her fingers out and wiped them on the covers before returning to watch the movie. The way her breasts had moved when she laughed was intoxicating. They sagged enough to stretch down to her belly but had sufficient body not to get lost in her robe. As the movie progressed, Mom removed the plate from her lap and moved closer to me, twisting toward me to lie more on her right leg and laying her head on my left shoulder and chest. She wiggled about trying to find a comfortable position and this parted her nightdress, just enough that I could see the skin diving between her breasts, especially on the side of the one bulging out from being squished against my chest. Mom stretched her arm under my back, and laid her other hand on my stomach, completing her search for comfort.

Unfortunately, placing her arm on my stomach twisted Mom more toward me, blocking my view of her breasts. But the warmth of her body next to me, separated only by that thin material, more than compensated for this loss. I put my own arm on her shoulder and eventually began stroking it up to the side of her neck, and toying with her hair.

"Mmmmmm," Mom hugged me. When the pressure of her arm released, her right breast slipped down to my side, her left taking its place lying on my chest. I continued toying with her hair and stroking her neck, hoping for more things to happen. What, I didn't know, but we finished the movie like that. The only other thing that happened was the touch of Mom's feet on mine as she tried to warm them. I didn't find this particularly erotic until she curled her left insole around my leg and started sliding it slowly up and down. The movie ended shortly that, which is probably good because my erection was making it difficult to hold the computer steady and I was afraid Mom would be angry if she knew what lay underneath.

I was sorry to see Mom turn away and slip out from under the covers. I watched her get out of bed and turn to pick up her robe, raising it so she could slip her hands through the sleeves. I was elated when she paused and then lowered it, folding it over her forearm and holding it in front of her, below her breasts.

"Do you have other movies on there?" she asked.


"Show me what you've got in your movie folder," she said, putting her knee up to lean it on the bed.

I was evasive in my response, "We can play any DVD in here."

"I want to watch one of the movies you downloaded," she insisted.

I opened the folder, hoping I didn't have anything too embarrassing there. I couldn't remember because it had been a long time since I'd downloaded a movie, other than the one we'd just watched.

Mom crawled across the bed as I opened the folder and I turned the laptop slightly so she could see it better. Still, she had to lean forward to see, affording me a tremendous view of her breasts, jutting against her nightdress as their weight fell forward. I completely forgot to look at the list of movie files as my attention was riveted on her chest and the two nipples trying to poke their way through the nightdress.

I could almost feel the blood draining from my head in the rush to fill my cock. I felt faint. I finally realized that her nightdress sported a large gap because of her forward leaning position and I could see her left tit hanging off her chest, the smooth curve of the bottom as it protruded sending an electric tingle ripping through me.

"Oh, there's lots. What's this one about?" she asked, pointing at the screen.

"That's ... oh, that's ... uh ...," I stammered, starting to blush.

"Probably something you don't want to watch with your mother, right?" Mom laughed at me.

"Well, uh ...,"

"That's ok. Don't blush." Mom leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. "We'll just pick another one for tomorrow, but don't delete it, don't delete any of them. Promise?"

"I promise."

Mom tousled my hair and gave me another kiss on my cheek. Then she crawled off the bed, but off the end rather than the side. I had a nice long look at her bum, and a last look at her breasts as they stretched up against the material when she pulled her robe on.

"Nighty night," Mom said, like she used to when she tucked me in so long ago.

I dreamt a lot about Mom that night and the next day dragged on forever at school. I rushed home hoping to learn that Dad was off on another business trip, but no such luck. I hung around in my room, hoping Mom would come downstairs but she didn't so I went upstairs to watch some TV with her and Dad. After the movie and the late news, Mom and Dad went to bed. Sulking, I dragged my ass downstairs and went to bed. I couldn't help fiddling with myself and turned the light back on, dragging my laptop over to watch that movie Mom had picked out.

Most of the downloaded movies turned out to be porn. A few were action flicks, some war movies and westerns. I was just thinking about deleting some of them, and was trying to remember exactly which one Mom had picked out just in case she remembered, when I saw her out of the corner of my eye, padding silently toward me on bare feet. She was carrying a bottle of wine and one glass.

"Are you picking out a movie?" she asked as she neared the bed, stooping over to set bottle and glass on the bedside table beside me. She looked at the screen, still bent over, and opened her robe, preparing to peel it off her shoulders. She had on a nightie this time rather than a nightdress and it only covered her to her knees, showing her nice legs. It sported a diving neckline as well and I wondered if all Mom's night clothes were like that, chosen to excite my father in the old days. It had a similar peek-through lace border but I could also see her skin faintly beneath the material proper because it was so thin, especially the dark spots surrounding her nipples.

"Isn't it pretty," she asked.

I was stunned. I had been staring and hadn't realized she had stopped looking at the screen.

"It used to be one of Dad's favorites," she said.

Mom pulled the robe from her shoulders, slipped it off her arms and turned to throw it on the chair behind her. When she turned back, she pinched the hem mid-way down her thighs and pulled the material a couple of inches from her legs, then curtsied, legs held together demurely. Her sculptured thighs were stunning, especially since I hadn't seen them before. And aside from being shorter, the neckline was actually cut much deeper.

"Fun, isn't it?" her voice tinkled.

I watched closely as she bent to pour herself a glass of wine, enjoying the show.

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