A Fantasy of Incest

A Fantasy -- With Basis in Reality

An awful lot of the following is true, but the fantasy makes it complete and fun.

Like many young men, I grew up wanting to have sex with my mother. She would be the first to say that she was not perfect, and I would not disagree. But what has become my definition of ideal is very largely based upon my perceptions of her.

I was her first, born as her 20^th birthday present, just a day early. It was in a different place and time from the reality we now know, so a young couple, just having celebrated their first anniversary and having their first child, was totally normal. Nowadays we all would cringe, worried how they would make ends meet, practically children raising a child of their own. Anyway, I was very close to my mother in many ways.

I can vaguely recall when she would put me down for a nap in their bed, and after she would leave the room, I would get up and get into her dresser drawers and pull out a pair of stockings (not pantyhose) and slip them up my own legs, and then fall back asleep. I must have been emulating what I had seen her do at some time. That's my only rational explanation. I still keep that nylon stocking desire even today, although I am not a crossdresser. But it's the memory of the feel of those stockings on my legs that inspires and soothes me, even today.

My father did everything he could to provide for the family, and through very fortunate circumstances, we were never in need. We were often in want, but never in need. Still, a schoolteacher's salary did not then and still today does not go very far, and with Mom only having a high school diploma, she did not work outside the home until my youngest sister went off to elementary school. So, Dad had summer jobs and part-time evening jobs, just to give us what he thought we needed without having to go to his parents for help. So, as I went through the public school system and approached graduation, there was an opportunity to explore my desires about Mom.

Mom liked her Southern Comfort manhattans, probably too much. She probably got that from her mother, but that's yet another story. Anyway, when Dad would be gone on Thursday nights and Friday nights and Saturday nights, earning the extra money to help satisfy some of the wants of a five-person family, Mom would often indulge with her drinks.

It was May, before I graduated high school in June, where this comes to fruition. On a Thursday night, I was sitting and watching TV. Dad had left for his evening job, and Mom had already changed into her long, powder blue, satiny nightgown. Her bust was sized at 36C (I checked her bra), and the nightgown was tight on her chest. My sisters were upstairs in their room doing whatever 14- and 11-year-old sisters do, and she walked into the living room.

"Whatcha doin', son?" she asked

"Just watching TV. Don't feel much like reading. No homework to do. Downhill stretch for me, ya know," I answered. I looked up at her, and something seemed a little different. She had on soft, red lipstick and she'd brushed her hair out and put it up in a clip, exposing her neck. Then I noticed the dents in her nightgown, indicating her erect nipples. She took a half-step forward, exposing her right leg. No shoes on, but she was wearing nylon stockings held in place by a garter strap. The welt of the stocking was a deep coffee brown, and the toe was reinforced but the heel was not. She had my attention now.

"Mom, have you been drinking already?" I asked.

"Nope. Not tonight, son. Too important to drink tonight." She reached out her left hand to me, wedding and engagement rings in place, and wiggled her fingers, indicating she wanted my hand. Dutifully, I reached out and held her hand in mine, and she pulled me to standing. Then she turned, still holding my hand, and led me down the short hallway to her room, where she closed the door once I had entered.

"What's going on, Mom?" I inquired.

"Tonight, my son, I'm going to make you a man."

This was puzzling to me. I was already 18 years old, 6'2" tall weighing 210 lbs. Technically an adult. Definitely male. Adult males are collectively known as men, right? So, I thought. So I was a little puzzled by her words.

She turned to me, reached up (she was only 5'4" tall), wrapped her arms around my neck, and pulled me down to her lips. She started with soft, closed-mouth kisses, and once I got into it, she opened up her mouth a bit and pressed her tongue between my lips. I had had an introduction to French kissing by a girl about three years earlier, so I was not totally clueless. I could taste some cigarette residue in her mouth, but hey, this was my Mom. I was not put off in the slightest. I wrapped my arms around her back and pulled her even closer, still keeping the lip lock. And my cock was getting hard very quickly, and she took notice.

Reaching between us, her hand rubbed over the front of my JCPenney Plain Pockets jeans (we could not afford Levi's), then tried to curl around the erection she had found. I broke off the kiss with her, and our eyes opened, blue looking deeply into blue.

"Mom?"

"Hush now. I'll take care of you. Do you like what you see and feel so far?"

Assuming she was referring to her tits pressing into me, her lips on mine, and her hand caressing my erection, I responded affirmatively.

"Good. Now get those jeans off."

I quickly unbuckled my belt, unsnapped and unzipped the jeans, and allowed gravity to have its way as they dropped to between my knees and ankles. My BVD jockey briefs, tight and white, continued to evidence my arousal, and she smiled and resumed kissing me. Her hand got a much better grasp on me now that the denim obstacle had been eliminated. She kissed me and squeezed and stroked my cock through my briefs, and I was nearly in heaven.

Relinquishing the kiss, both of her hands grasped the bottom of my t-shirt and pulled it up, inside out, as high as she could reach and I did not need to be told to finish the job. She kissed my hairless chest and started down to my navel, softly kissing her path to my underwear. Kneeling now, she grasped the elastic and quickly yanked them to meet my jeans near my ankles, and my cock bobbed up and struck her underneath her chin.

We measured it during another session; it came in at 5 ½" long and 5" circumference, for what it's worth.

She immediately pulled it into her mouth, first sucking then licking the glans paying special attention to the very sensitive edge of my circumcised cock. Then she sucked it into her mouth a little deeper, then deeper still, until her nose was being tickled by my pubic hair. Her tongue was lashing, first at my pee hole then at the tender part of the glans, then around the trunk of my cock. Then she sucked in with a strong vacuum while pushing me away, trying to stretch and lengthen what she had in her mouth. With an audible "pop", my cock pulled out of her mouth and I could see a faint trace of red lipstick at the base of my cock.

She kept up the oral attack for about five minutes, and all I could do was to throw my head back in ecstasy. I knew better than to make much noise; I did not want my sisters alerted to what Mom and I were doing.

Mom then stood up, kissed my lips again, and took two steps back, the back of her legs against her bed. After making sure my eyes were on her, she wiggled and pulled her right elbow then wrist out of her nightgown's neckline, then repeated this for her left arm. So the nightgown was held up by friction and her breasts, and she tugged the nightgown down over her tits, and gravity had its way again. She was wearing a garter belt, white with a little pink flower in the front center, and the dark brown stockings, and her rings. Her pubic bush did not seem trimmed, nor was it a wild jungle.

"You like?" she asked, softly.

"Oh, Mom," was all I was able to get out before she reached for my neck and pulled my mouth to her full left breast.

"I did not breastfeed you, son, but come on and suckle on mommy now," she stated.

Her nipple scraped on my tongue as I nursed and licked and teased her left breast. She moved my mouth to her right one, and I repeated my ministrations.

"Bite it, gently," she admonished, and I did. That got a shudder and a full-body wiggle from her, so I shifted back to the left and did the same there. Another shudder.

"Oh, son, that's so good!"

Then I detected an odor I was familiar with. It turned out to be the odor of extreme feminine arousal, and it seemed to be coming from her crotch. Following her example, I trailed kisses and licks downward from her breasts, around and into her navel, over the garter belt, and down to her pubic hair. Her hands had grasped my hair tightly (my hair was a lot longer then than it currently is) and she pushed me to my knees and pulled me into her crotch. She sat at the edge of her bed and pushed and pulled my head with her hands, directing my nose to rub her clit while my tongue began to explore juicier locations.

I had had a little bit of pussy munching experience, courtesy of another girl earlier in the spring, and I knew to let Mom guide me where she wanted my nose and tongue. And guide me she did. Her pussy opened up and the wonderful delicacy that was Mom was there for the slurping. I think my love of going down on my wife stems from that experience. I haven't tasted many women, but I have yet to find one whose flavor I don't care for.

My hands were not idle during all of this. I had them stroking up and down her nylon encased legs, rubbing, caressing, even tickling lightly. Her stockings felt electrified in my hands, and I never wanted to stop, nor do I think she ever wanted me to stop.

When I had licked her to two breath-catching orgasms, she lay back on her bed and pulled me down.

"Now, son, we make you a man tonight."

She reached and stroked my cock, assuring herself that I was as firm as I was going to get. I thought I could not get any harder, but I was mistaken. She guided my cock and rubbed it up and down, from her clit to her perineum and back, lubricating it with her liquids, first the bottom side then the top. Then she held it and started it going inside her. Her legs came up behind my butt and she gently pulled me inside, about halfway. I pulled back, and she pulled me in, this time all the way.

"Now, in and out, son, slowly."

I really did not need her direction for this; it seemed pretty instinctive as well as feeling wonderful to do. But it would not do to try to correct her at this juncture.

I withdrew about halfway, then pushed back in, her heels on my butt assisting. Then again, and again. I was fucking my Mom, and life just could not get any better than this! I started to pull out a little further, lengthening my stroke, until one time I pulled too far and pulled completely out. We both groaned in frustration at my eagerness, and I reached down and re-slotted my cock in her welcoming pussy.

With this being my first time, I was not going to last very long, and we both knew it. The panting was starting and the buzzing in my balls was escalating.

"Mom? I'm gonna cum soon."

"Cum... cum... cum inside my son. It's perfectly safe. Come back to mama, baby boy." It turned out she had had her tubes tied after giving birth to my youngest sister, and Dad had had a vasectomy about a year later. Tied tubes or not, the feeling around and on my cock was incomparable. I had returned to the place of my origin, and I never wanted to leave it again.

"Oh, Mom... oh, Mom... I'm cumming, now!" and four blasts of my semen coated Mom's insides, and my virginity was truly given to the one person who loved me more than anybody else could. She did not take anything. It was totally and completely freely given. It took a good ten minutes for us both to catch our breaths, and Mom told me that she had had a huge orgasm when feeling my blasts of semen, but I had been desensitized to the point of not realizing it.

Mom passed away 15 years ago from lung cancer which was not diagnosed until she had less than six months to live. I cannot express how much I miss my mother some days, especially right now. -storyteller0112