A New Day Dawning

"Yeah, I know but did he get you off?" She quizzed me.

I couldn't even answer her but I could feel the warmth of an embarrassing blush coloring my cheeks and the tingle of a vibrating wave building between my squirming thighs. I could only hide my face behind my jittery hands as my head nodded involuntarily. I felt like a schoolgirl discussing her first serious kiss after a movie-date.

But this was no recess break where two teens talked about their first boy/girl party. It wasn't even the usual intimate gossip between two grown women about getting back into the dating pool. I was overwhelmed about the action- and subsequent inaction that I had been involved in last night.

"C'mon mom, I know he slept with you last night. It's just us girls, so tell me, how many times did you cum?" She persisted with her excruciating interrogation. "You can talk to me about it, don't be shy. I know exactly what you're feeling."

I stifled a self-conscious guffaw and my ashamed laughter came-out as a series of snorts. Remembering some of the more explicit phases of last night's bedroom adventure, I could only continue to hide my reddened complexion and hold four trembling fingers infront of me. How could she ever know just exactly what I was feeling? A morning glow of exhilaration and renewed sexiness tainted

by the shame and guilt of degeneracy. And yet, I couldn't resist the "power-brag" of letting her in on (a small part) of my secret, that this older woman could still tempt a much younger man, into supplying her with FOUR seismic orgasms before the conclusion of their debased and immoral little "affair." As I struggled to cover my corrupted expression, the unceasing wiggling of my fingers signaled that I was not totally contrite or chastened by my role in the lewd little fling.

"He made you cum four times! Wow!" She was hugging me with joyful tears welling in her dewy brown eyes that made a toothy smile spread across my face. "How many times have you cum in the previous year?" The crude and biting question from my 19 year-old daughter nearly took my breath away but now with the cat out of the bag, I was anxious but uncertain how to share the details of my nocturnal roll in the hay. The correct words wouldn't form on my dishonored tongue. I could only shake my head, signaling that I hadn't had even one orgasm brought-on by another person, in quite a few years. She was shrieking with delight as she grilled me for more indelicate confessions. "Why would you ever want to stop fucking him?"

I looked across the table at the young woman who was so excited that I had been seduced and brought to the heights of sexual glorification after years of loneliness and depression. My younger daughter was a near-mirror image of me from about three decades past. Her long auburn-tinted brunette waves cascaded over her shoulders, reproducing a look of mine she found from an old photo. We both had sparkling, chocolaty-brown eyes, hers from youthful exuberance and a bright future, mine from one startling night of slavish service to a surprising Dom that morphed into thrilling sexual abandonment and a sense of libertinism.

Our chest measurements seemed to be similar. My 36's were a bit more wobbly and when unloosed, the nipples no longer stood directly forward. Hers looked perky and perfectly tear-drop shaped. The effects of gravity and having birthed three kids showed on my hips and belly, though I was a devotee to Pilates and kept most of my curves relatively firm. Christie had the vitality of youth and appeared to be torn from the pages of a swimsuit magazine. I envied every inch of her but for a moment, my yesterday was the talk of our coffee table. But one nagging thing kept coming to the fore whenever our conversation returned to the action between the sheets.

Her teasing question of why I am not dancing on the table and making plans for a return engagement haunted me, though I didn't reveal that there was a plan already for a repeat performance. A dark shadow clouded my erotic reverie as an aching lump rose in my throat. I took a deep breath and for the first time in about ten minutes, I was able to look my daughter in the eye and with quivering lips holding back the guilt, I replied "Because he's my son."

Finally saying it outloud for the first time; after hearing the crude words reverberate in my mind all night while listening to the ticking of the clock and here today, watching for the stunned reaction and bitter disappointment that I expected to see reflected on her shocked face, I was the one taken aback when she smiled and held my hands in hers. She didn't seem suitably stunned at the awkward announcement of my offspring as paramour. I had felt foolish enough talking to my nineteen-year-old daughter Christy, about the cause of my 100-watt smile and the Cheshire Cat grin that seemed a newly permanent fixture on my 47-year-old features. I feared that this unholy disclosure might send her to a psychiatrist or an asylum. She said that she was aware that my son spent the night. Does that mean that she knew that he was the one I had sex with?

"I understand completely mom. I felt the same way when I started fucking Jason, too. But once you've had that big cock in your pussy, how could you ever say no?"

Did she just say "Jason?" It can't be possible. I am stacking one nightmare ontop of another. Not the same Jason, it must be someone from one of her classes or from the gym or a coffee shop. And she mentioned something about his penis size. Is it not bad enough that I'm conversing with my youngest child about the illicit sexual adventure that still warms my uterus? Or that I just admitted that I had sexual relations with my only son? But ofcourse, how could I ever hope to conduct a proper dialogue about rape, incest and multiple orgasms without the language and the descriptions taking it's most crude form? And did she now confirm with the utmost assurance that she has had sex with him, too? I was momentarily lost for words.

"Are you kidding? It took me all night and most of this morning to form the words and gather the strength to break this awful news without risking your hatred or utter disappointment and you're casually telling me that you've had sex with your brother, too?" Her normally sweet countenance took on a quite serious expression but then her hands motioned into a pantomime of slowly widening while her brown eyes enlarged as if she was observing a living thing stretching and unwinding it's great length to a degree beyond normal confines. And despite my rather Puritan upbringing and years spent on the sidelines of the new sexual age, I grasped instantly, that without need of words, she was describing what I had discovered last night- that my son -her brother- had an enormous cock that we had apparently, to the possible damnation of our household, both recently sampled.

Christy only giggled a bit and her less-than-girlish blush settled across a deeply satisfied expression. She couldn't hold back her grin and reacted as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders being able to include me in the growing sorority of the family's women who had slept with Jason. She practically licked her lips as she remembered the feeling and I was sorely tempted to acknowledge that I had actually tasted the forbidden fruit also.

"Mom, we worried about how you might take it and if you'd let the taboo phrase "incest" upset you. Even though Jason can bring-out the inner-slut hidden inside of every good girl and we thought that was precisely what you needed. And you've got to admit that he's hung like a bull and that he really knows how to use that monster." Every word she said hit me like a ton of bricks.

"What do you mean, that you worried about it? Did you know that Jason was going to crawl into bed with me and force me to have sexual relations with him? Do you know that he held me down and took me from behind? Then he made me take him in my mouth like a common whore. He wasn't satisfied until he climbed ontop of me and did it that way and then he changed positions and actually licked me... down there. Then he pulled my nightgown completely off and told me to grip my breasts while he sucked on my nipples like when he was baby, only he was squeezing and kneading them too, while telling me how big they are and that he likes women with big "you-know-whats." The lurid thoughts and the lingering emotions were so vivid that I was now caught-up in the gutter-language that has replaced romance. "He told me that he intends to pinch and suck on my tits whenever he is near me now so I should stop wearing brassieres. And he "expects" me to suck his cock as a greeting, the next time he sees me."

That's why I called you this morning, he just left about an hour ago and I didn't know who to turn to." I was frantic and speaking rapid gibberish. Explaining that it began with me taken against my will while describing in extreme detail each body part and how they fit together in sequence. My breathless re-enactment and eye for every sordid particular caused my heart and pulse rates to skyrocket. Beads of sweat heated my forehead and the warmth of my body caused my sheer gown to cling to my damp flesh. My nipples again, sprouted and my eyes glazed-over as I retold the events of my encounter, now using the common tongue. Awkwardly admitting at the same time that I was intending to be his slave again and that I was being conditioned to accept my fate. And I was learning to cherish it!

I portrayed to my daughter (but mostly for myself,) the pornographic scene of my twenty-five year-old son stealing into my bed completely naked; of me being forcibly penetrated from behind as I slowly awakened from slumber, the deliberate, lustful groping and tweaking of my full breasts while he whispered how much he loved sucking on them, the thick fingers hungrily searching and entering my vagina pushing and tickling the inner recesses as my sinful loins moistened to their skillful touch, my submissive body being tossed and placed on the bed in all positions while surrendering to his prurient seductions and then having his firm, hardened tool thrust into my gaping mouth and having to swallow the salty discharge of his turgid column. To hide my shame after practically enumerating the various ways that I succumbed and participated in my own seduction, I looked at her in an accusatory manner for almost setting the beast upon my virginal body.

"Mom," she began haltingly. "I didn't know when he was going to do it and he never told me how it would happen- I don't think that there was a plan. But he told me that he always fantasized about fucking you and that he really wanted to see your big tits." She spoke breathlessly and without pause, fearful I'd imagine, of my reaction. She seemed tense and her eyes squinted as she relayed the information, easing back against the sofa as if afraid that I might hit her. "Then today, when you told me he spent the night and when I saw your expression, and that you couldn't hold eye-contact as you told me the story... "

She took another deep breath and continued more slowly. "We both told him that you would never go for it and that maybe it would tear-apart the family. But you loved it."

"Wait, wait, wait," I interjected. "Who were you talking to about this and how many people know what he did?" I was now borderline hysterical. Though, funny thing that I realized later, it's not that I was entirely upset about the semi-forced incest, it was more about the size of my "audience."

"Well," She commenced. "Linda (her 22 year-old sister and my other daughter,) was there when he said it. She actually thought that it might be good for you to have a man fill your needs and that with Jason, you can fulfill all of your fantasies and you already know that he would never hurt or humiliate you." Infact, he understands how to ease into sex and to allow the woman to explore her sexuality, whether she is submissive, role-playing, or sharing his body with another woman.

She made it seem so clinical that it was almost routine that a sexual predator should set his sights on me and cure whatever ails me. "Neither of us knew exactly what he would do, but he's very persuasive and he understands from subtle clues what women like."

"How do you know all this? And why are you and your sister talking about me having sex with your brother? How did my name ever come-up and how could you ever think that I would approve of incest?" I was talking like a crazy person now. I couldn't admit that the evening brought-out every kinky fantasy that I'd known and that Jason had hinted before he left, that there would be much more instore for me and he intended to become my sexual Svengali. He claimed that the four orgasms that I told him about, were just a starting point because I wasn't prepared for sexual liberation, but tonight that number will be doubled. I was eagerly awaiting this next session.

Another deep breath and a very heavy sigh because we had reached literally, the moment of truth. She composed herself as her forehead wrinkled and beads of sweat formed on her upper lip. I could now see that her pert nipples were poking at the fabric of her soft tee and she didn't seem at all worried or embarrassed by speaking of the intimate details of our family's sexual exploits and peccadillos. Christy only wanted to unburden herself and open-up for me, the wonders ahead if I would only free my mind from all taboos. She was very much like me, excited, nervous and a bundle of pent-up energy waiting to be ignited. I was wary, anticipating a deviant conspiracy about to unfold but what came next was beyond my naive, housebound mother's limits of depraved sexuality. With another deep breath and exhaling so hard that it blew the brown bangs from her forehead and caused her hefty boobs to bounce on her chest, she began. "It all started with Linda."

"What started with Linda?" I couldn't keep anything straight because anytime that Christy began an explanation, it led to five more questions. Each one drawing more unsubtle images of debauchery that the one before. "How does your sister enter into this? And are you saying that the three of you, talk to each other about your mother's sex life? (I imagined myself saying, "or complete lack of one.") She simply shrugged her shoulders as if to tell me that I should hold on to the edge of the sofa, because here it comes.

"He was fucking Linda one day when I walked-in on them." She stopped her solemn clarification when she spied my eyes bug-out and my mouth drop open. And then an ear-piercing shriek of hysteria.

"Wait, what?" was all I could utter as my poor brain overloaded with wicked pictures and perverted but erotic passions swirled and tumbled in my imagination. That familiar fluid warmth that had mounted in my vagina earlier, began to roil and bubble to an explosive level. My nipples were now fully engorged and extremely tender, I could sense them straining at the loose gown that I wore under my robe. I had just recently risen from bed after a vivid and exotic sexual escaped that only ended a few short hours ago and involved seduction, coercion, perversion and a family member.

I imagined that from there, I would be gradually calming down for the rest of the day, but no. Now, I was listening to a semi-graphic tale of taboo MFF sex that was hitting way too close to home. My feverish imagination warped into overdrive. And I needed to clasp my thighs together tightly and to recall a time when the kids were all in high-chairs and propped-up at the dinner table. But like trying to not think about the pebble in your shoe, I had a constant reminder that some nagging concern was soon to become a major situation.

I settled my anxious nerves and stretched my legs to hide the rather obvious attempt to flatten my enlarged nipples and to rearrange the intense pressure fomenting in my loins. While up and working to steady the shaking of my wobbly legs, I poured us both another cup of coffee, and felt seriously about adding a little cognac to it. Christy wasn't of legal drinking age yet, but that apparently hadn't stopped her from exploring some of the other illegal vices.

This little maneuver gave me time to compose my features and prepare for the sexual audacities I was certain were to follow. Christy took this time to sugar, stir, and then sip her drink, gathering her senses and preparing to enlighten me of the family history in debauchery. Now relieved that nothing overly emotional or calamitous would occur, she went on with her monologue.

"Mom, Jason is a very sensuous person. He can be annoying sometimes, with some things it's like he has never grown-up. There is always some behavior that comes with being the big brother that reminds me of when we were kids and he picked-on us all the time. Of course, he was always closer with Linda because they're only one year apart. But when he wants to be, he can be seductive and sexually exciting because he picks-up on little clues and understands that when he allows the woman to slowly, teasingly become aroused, she is unconsciously open to almost anything." I solemnly nodded my head in agreement and then blushed a deep crimson shade when she noticed my gesture. I was still smarting from the knowledge that both of my daughters knew that my son was planning to seduce me and now it was done. I just had to verbally spank her down.

"You mean that he can talk you into incest!" I blurted-out. Not meaning to sound like such a scold. And suddenly realizing that I was hoist on my own petard. And still harboring the secret that Jason, by prior arrangement, was coming to my bed again tonight.

"Well, when you put it that way, yeah." She replied, pointedly directing her sharp rebuke at me. I guess I was throwing stones. "So, I don't need to tell you how it can happen," she reasoned. My seduction started as an invasion but I was anxious to learn how my son manipulated the other women in the clan. Christy was not particularly bragging as she detailed her incestuous tryst with her older brother but she wasn't remorseful or apologetic either. She seemed to want to admit and assert her justification of the abhorrent behavior to a kindred spirit. We were two submissive peas in the same pod.

And how could I criticize her behavior when I crossed the Oedipal line of morality and intended to keep going back for more. For most of the previous night while I lay sweating in the tangled, dank sheets, my brain was trying to convince my heart that I was being forcibly raped by a younger, stronger man whose sex appeal was obvious and had wandered into my darkened bedroom in the middle of the night and used my mature body, against my will, for his various, lewd pleasures. At first, I was disoriented and in shock. I was scared of the sudden intrusion in the safety and sanctity of my own bed. But then heartened to find that it was my beloved son and knowing that nothing untoward could ever happen.

And some Freudian, or motherly intuition told me that I should allow and foster a deeper, untamed emotion of sexual fervor to blossom into a tender display of deep feeling and sensitivity. That should be enough to waylay my doubt. In my position, any bullshit would have freed me from the perverse sense that I furtively longed to feel the touch and power of my son and to quench his sexual passions. Feeling his calloused hands squeezing my tits and absorbing the pounding thrusts of his weighty cock against the inner walls of my horny cunt overshadowed any lingering hang-up of sin or consequence.

I was initially frightened but then gradually grew to like the warm and potent allure of a stud who chose me to be his ravished maiden. My brazen pussy overcame its shyness and heated intensely as the friction from his love muscle drove deeper into my welcoming channel. I backed my cushiony rearend against his thrusting pelvis providing an inviting target for his thick meat. It didn't take long to spark the flame. I can't hide the fact that he brought-on an explosive climax to my sheltered anatomy in many aberrant positions, including while his pulsing cock filled my mouth with his creamy syrup.