A Short Guide to Mother-Son Incest

A Short Guide to Mother-Son Incest
(Pages from the Pervert's Handbook)

(Authors note: The following is intended to be light-hearted fiction for the entertainment of adult readers and nothing more. All characters in this tale are intentionally over the age of 18, and I remind readers that any form of adult sexual contact with children is illegal, immoral, and abusive.)

Ok, so you fancy your Mum.

Come on admit it, you want to touch her, examine her breasts, and maybe even get her into your bed! Maybe she's fat, maybe she's ugly (or maybe she's incredibly attractive), maybe she's middle-aged or old, but whatever she's like she's your Mum and she's special to you in a way you can't explain, and you'd really like to get your hands on her.

Perhaps these desires are a sudden revelation or maybe you've always felt this way. There are probably a multitude of deep psychological reasons why you have these feelings, but the bottom line is you have this nagging incestuous itch that won't go away ... and one small (and perverted) part of your head is obsessed with scratching it. Ultimately you want to have a sexual relationship with your own Mother.

So here you are reading my text in the hope of picking up some ideas. You know full well the idea of having sex with your own Mother is an impossible non-starter. It's a dark place in your mind you should never have visited, and it's far better left murky and unexplored. But then you see the title of this story and some devious little neuron in a demonic part of your brain thinks 'maybe' ... well maybe there's something here that might open a chink of light into that evil darkness.

Well you may be right, but before we start left me give you some warnings.

First, incest has consequences. I mean it's immoral, it's illegal, and it's socially taboo. If you're not arrested and thrown into prison for 50 years (after having a Dumas-style Iron Mask clamped around your head), you'll certainly be shunned and ostracised from your community. Even worse, if you're religious you stand a good chance of rotting in hell for the rest of eternity just for reading this article (and it's no good pretending it was an accident. God knows what you're thinking you know, and you won't get away with a 'hey man, I was just surfing the Net and this page suddenly popped up!').

Second, even thinking about getting your mother into bed will change your relationship with her forever (but then if you're reading this it's probably already too late for that).

Third, I accept NO responsibility whatsoever for any outcomes that may arise from the thoughts herein presented. You might get lucky and put one over on your mum, but you might also get your balls chopped off or something worse (like being cut out of her Will!).

So read on at your own risk!!

Ok, let's assume your soul is damned and you don't give a shit about consequences and you're morally bereft (in other words a normal 21st century male). Let's also assume there's something about your Mum which makes your balls glow in the dark in a way even you know they shouldn't. But how on earth can you tell her ... I mean she's your Mum for God's sake!? How can you engineer a situation where something could or even 'might' happen?

Well, ignoring for a moment less plausible options (such as Hypnosis or Mind-Control), I'm going to present a number of scenarios as to how my (imaginary) characters set about solving the problem. Each character will adopt a different theme or strategy which their story will explore. Space prevents me from examining more than a few themes, although I am sure there are many approaches (and indeed I invite readers to send me their suggestions), but these seem to me the most practical.

I assume from the outset that each 'son' (for reasons I won't go too deeply into) has a yearning to seduce his Mother and has adopted a specific ploy to achieve his goal. As far as possible in the context of what are meant to be entertaining stories, I will attempt to outline each of the strategies employed.

In this first part I will look at two 'strategies'. Hopefully (if I ever get around to it – NO promises!), I will subsequently offer a further two approaches

Enough said ... on with my tales.

The Drunken Mum

Jason's Mother was 51 and always looked like she was pregnant. She wasn't exactly fat but with a stomach that bugled outwards (as if ripe with child), she did a pretty good impression. Thankfully she had enormous breasts which stuck out beyond her tummy and tended to hide (or rather distract attention away from) her large belly. Indeed her breasts were her main feature, of which she was duly proud, and she made no attempt to hide them or disguise their size. In fact when not at work she always tended to wear lacy see-through blouses which revealed (to the attentive observer) two huge white prominences. These prominences were the full cups of a regulation but old-fashioned white brassiere which confined and controlled her massive mammaries. Each cup had polyester bands around it, decreasing in size until they disappeared into the nipple area, giving the whole construction an air of powerful engineering and making the device appear similar to a 1950's Bullet-Bra. I'm not sure if she realised it but the slightly-chiffon view of that gargantuan bra, proudly doing its job of lifting and separating her substantial tits, was almost as erotic as her unclothed naked breasts might have been.

When she was at work (at a local bakery) she wore a white cotton uniform dress that was plain and unassuming. However as this dress was buttoned at the front, her large breasts had the effect of pulling the area between the button-holes apart, and if you stood side-on (to her left side) you could plainly see the mountainous curve of her bra through the gap. When home from work she sometimes left her uniform on, and if the buttons pulled apart (as they sometimes did) she never worried too much about reconnecting them.

All this meant poor Jason could never entirely escape the temptation (or indeed the opportunity) to scrutinize his Mother's chest.

At 19 Jason was unemployed and spent most of his daytime bumming around the house. At some point his boring life led him to his mother's underwear draw. Her brassieres fascinated him and he often spent time holding the cups in his hand and imagining what they might feel like if they were full. Eventually he took to masturbating over them, either with a bra in his hand or wrapped around his penis. He fantasised about fondling his Mother's breasts through the bra, and indeed of removing the bra and seeing what glories lay underneath. Inevitably over time his fantasies became cruder and more daring, and slowly and inexorably led him to notion of actually trying to find a way to 'cop a feel' of his Mother's wonderful tits.

Given the circumstances of his Mother's lifestyle this did not seem as impossible as one might imagine. His father was a shift-worker at the local car factory and often worked nights at the weekend. On these nights his Mother frequently went out with the girls 'pubbing and clubbing', only to reappear around two a.m. in various stages of intoxication. Moreover Jason has twice seen her emerging not from a taxi but from the car of some unknown male. He was convinced that on such nights she 'let her hair down' so to speak, and maybe even got herself laid. But he never said anything to anyone, maybe even back then instinctively knowing that such information may be useful one day.

So a plot was hatched...

One Friday night (when his dad was at work) he would wait up for his Mother to come home, and if she were sufficiently drunk, then he would exaggerate the level of his own intoxication and try his luck at fondling his Mother's tits. I say 'exaggerate' his level of drunkenness but Jason knew full well he'd have to be pretty far gone to have the guts to try such a thing. I mean it was scary prospect, trying it on with your own Mother ... even if she was a bit of a tart.

Eventually after several false starts, where uncertainty as to as to whether his mother was actually drunk enough made him chicken out, the fateful night arrived. It was nearly three in the morning when his mum arrived home, drunkenly stumbling from a car Jason didn't recognise. She was so far gone she needed the driver, a large coloured man, to help her to the front door and insert the key in the lock for her. He then slipped quickly away and the car roared off down the street.

Arriving at the front hall Jason heard his mother muttering curses at the driver for being so noisy, and then whispering 'fuck!' after half-falling over the doormat.

"Eyo Mum," he said in greeting, as his mother tried to close the door silently behind her.

She spun round, tripping on her own feet and almost falling over, and stared at Jason.

She seemed shocked and a little unnerved by his sudden appearance. She also had a distinctly guilty air.

"Sshould be in bed," she mumbled at him.

"I'z late," he said grinning at her. "Too much booze ...'ish same with you by the looks of it". He'd had a skinful but Jason was nevertheless pretending to be more intoxicated than he actually was.

Jason's mother looked distinctly the worse for wear. She stood there in the hallway swaying slightly, her arms a little apart as if to steady herself. Her eyes were glazed, her mouth hung open, and her head was hanging down as if she didn't quite have the strength to lift it back up off her shoulders. She looked at Jason and grunted.

"I'z give you hand upstairs if you like?" he said as slurrily as he could.

His mother shook her head and waved a hand at him as if to say she was fine, but then she fell heavily against the wall as she tried to get her coat off.

"Here..." he said grabbing her arm and steadying her. She seemed reluctant to let him help remove her coat, but as she was clearly in no state to do it alone she finally accepted his aid.

In the dim light of the hall Jason was slightly shocked to see how revealing his mother's dress was as he pulled the coat off her arm. Given she was showing a cleavage deep enough to sink a battleship in, he was convinced now she really had been out on the pull. It seemed the perfect invitation to start his plan.

"Wow Mum," he said drunkenly, "nice dress. So ... umm ... revealing!"

Ignoring the comment his Mother turned and stumbled towards the bottom of the stairs. Stealing up behind Jason slipped his arm round her waist and made to help her up the staircase. Forcing her bloodshot eyes to focus intently on Jason for a moment, she seemed about to spurn his offer of help, but then she just nodded and whispered "thanksh", and started to attempt to negotiate the first step.

For the first few moments his mother seemed able to manage the stairs, and all Jason could do was lay his hand on her back to prevent her falling backwards down the staircase. But then she missed a step and staggered down on one knee. Taking his chance Jason slipped his hand down and round under her chest as if to stop her collapsing, then as she regained her footing and mounted the next step, he left his hand where it was nudging up against the bottom of her breasts.

Slowly and with increasing difficulty she dragged herself up each step and with every movement Jason let his hand ride further and further up the underside of her bra, until by the last few steps he was actually holding the bottom half of her right tit. Although ostensibly helping his mother up the stairs, part of Jason's mind was revelling in the feel of her breast under his hand. It was the first time he'd ever fully touched one of his mother's tits and it felt wonderfully firm and yet yielding.

As his mum struggled hesitantly with each step, her chest pushed back and forward against his hand, and he could not help himself from exaggerating the movement by gently squeezing her tit every time she leaned forward. But then she seemed to notice where he was holding her and she tried half-heartedly to use her forearm to push his hand back down to her waist.

Jason was happy for the moment to permit his groping to be seen as accidental and he allowed his hand to be pushed away. He even whispered sorry in his mother's ear and muttered something about it being hard work getting up the stairs. But then as they reached the top of the stairs it was clear his mother wanted to disentangle herself from her son. Instinctively he resisted and steered them both towards his mother's bedroom door.

"We need to get you into bed Mum," he said softly. "Wouldn't want dad finding you in a heap in the hall now would we."

For a moment his mother tried half-heartedly to remove his hand from her waist, but then she relented and let herself be guided into the bedroom. Dragging her to the edge of the bed Jason let his mother fall heavily down on to the bed and then, as if he were caught up with her in some way, he let himself fall down on top of her. Given their combined weights the bed shuddered and creaked noisily as they bounced up and down for a moment, and then Jason founding himself lying on top of his mother with his face right down between her enormous bosoms.

"Man," he whispered softly, "You got a great pair of boobs Mum."

II

To Jason's great surprise and delight his mother actually laughed when he complimented her breasts.

"Naughty boy," she giggled. "My boobs are none of your bus ... bus-ness."

She sounded too drunk to care what was happening, and as he was still laying half on top of her with his face almost buried in her yawning cleavage, Jason felt able to push ahead with his own agenda. He slid his hands up and wrapped themselves round both of her breasts.

"Oh yer..." he whispered as his fingers tightened around his mothers massive mammaries, "now that's what I call tits!"

For a moment nothing happened, and Jason just lay there on top of his mother fondling her breasts while she stared at him through foggy blood-shot disbelieving eyes. Indeed it wasn't until his hands began to slide down her cleavage and under the low-cut bra supporting her dress that his mother seemed to react at all.

But then she exploded!

"What the fuck you t'ink you're doing!" she screamed, struggling at the same time to turn over and throw Jason from chest. "Ger off me you fucking little creep!"

With Jason now lying beside her on the bed, his mother struggled to lift herself up on one elbow. Her face was an odd combination of drunken confusion and desperate anger. "How ... How dare yer do that," she spluttered at Jason.

But Jason just smiled casually at her, trying to make his face look not quite with-it, as if he were so intoxicated he didn't really know what he was doing. He'd half-expected this reaction and was again playing his strategy of alternating between retreat and attack.

"Ssorry Mumsy," he said slurrily. "Couldn't stop myshelf ... I mean your tits are so big and so cuddly. It just sort of happened."

Somewhat mollified and too drunk to bother chasing the issue, Jason's mother just shook her head and let out a low hissing sigh. She lay back on the bed and waved a hand at Jason as if indicating for him to leave.

But he didn't go and instead lifted his face up close to his Mother's and whispered in a half-joking half-drunken manner, "Sure you don't wantz a hand to get out that dress?"

For a moment Jason thought she was going to explode again, but she didn't. Instead she just giggled once more. "Yersh a naughty boy!" she said again. "You juz want to get yer hands on mummy's titties, don't yer? Yersh a dirty little boy!"

His mother seemed to find the whole situation suddenly funny, and she lay there on the bed shaking with silent drunken laughter. As her body shook in unexplained merriment, Jason watched her breasts wobble and roll like enormous hills in an earthquake. His fumbling at her chest had almost pulled one tit free from its constraints and he stared fascinated as one large dark nipple peeped enticingly out from under her dress. As she laughed the nipple danced up and down, now hidden, now revealed.

Still focussing on the dancing nipple he answered his mum almost without thinking.

"Oh God yer Mum, I'd really really like to feel your tits ... just this once."

Abruptly realizing what he'd said Jason steeled himself for the coming explosion, but nothing happened. Instead his mother was silent and still for a moment. Then she turned and looked hard at Jason, her face intense and screwed up as if she were trying to process or understand what he'd said. He held his breath and waited to see what would happen.

For what seemed an interminable period Jason's mother just looked at him, and drunk though she was he could see from her expression that cogs and levers were clicking over in her brain. Then abruptly the beginnings of a smile began to play around her lips. She shook her head at him and whispered, "Whash a naughty boy you are".

Then she turned over on the bed presenting her back to Jason and said softly "unzip me". Needing no second invitation he quickly pulled the zip right down and helped his mother slip from her dress. Still facing away from him she indicated for Jason to undo the back of her bra. With trembling fingers he obeyed.

Then she pulled her bra off her body and turned to face him, her large bosom rolling out before his eyes. For a moment she watched him staring at her suddenly revealed breasts, and then in a surprisingly gentle movement she cupped the back of his head in her hand and lowered his face down towards her chest. Lifting one nipple between her fingers she offered it up to Jason's lips.

"Yersh want to suckle mummy's boob?" she said, still drunkenly but with uncharacteristic kindness and gentleness.

Jason opened his lips and accepted her offering with unbelieving gratitude. Carefully he began to suck at her nipple, drawing more and more of her ample breast into his mouth.

His mother lay her head down on the pillow and closed her eyes. "Ahh 'at's nice," she whispered, almost to herself. "Yersh can feel my tits as much as you want. I'sh going to sleep now so enjoy."

As Jason reached his hand up to engulf and squeezed his mother's other breast, she patted him softly on the head. "But be gone 'afore yer Dad gets 'ome though won't yer," she breathed softly in his ear. "My treasures are yours tonight, but just this once yersh understand ... just this once."

And with those words she slipped away into a deep slumber, leaving Jason to enjoy her naked chest fully exposed and revealed before him. He lifted his head from her nipple and buried his face deep down between her breasts, his hands tingling with joy as they began their task of feeling over every atom of her tits.

That was the only time his mother allowed Jason to touch her breasts, but it was what Jason had always wanted and it turned out to be the most memorable night of his whole life.

2.The Persistent Son

David had always been a shy boy and nothing he did seemed to change that. Even now, at 22 years old and after two years at University, he was uncomfortable and awkward with girls. He avoided pubs and hated parties, and almost any social situation made him feel anxious and distressed. Long ago he had labelled himself as a 'social phobic' but he had no explanation as to why he alone should suffer this terrible affliction. Indeed he was entirely baffled as to his own condition ... that is until he discovered Freud.

He was studying Psychology at university and the topic for the current semester was Psychoanalysis. As a preparatory reading all students were told to read Freud's 'Introductory Lectures' and Jason dutifully attacked what he imagined would be a dry and dusty tome no longer relevant in today's world, but by the time he was halfway through he had unexpectedly begun to understand the source of his own dilemma.