tagIncest/TabooBreakfast

Breakfast

byMSTarot©

By her normal habits I know that my wife will sleep till at least eight o-clock. Me? I wake at six whether I wish to or not. So when the footsteps in the hall outside wake me, I know I won't get back to sleep.

Sliding out of the too hard bed I give my back a stretch and my neck a pop. I slip back on my socks against the chill of the floors and make my way out the room.

As I descend the steps I can hear water running. I know that my Mom's in the shower. I decide to make us coffee.

The kitchen hasn't changed since I left. First for college, then for the life of a married man. I find the coffee where it was always kept. As I get the pot filled I think back to my life here. Things that I've forgotten, scents, smells, old half remembered things.

Like the smell of Mom's shampoo and body wash. I notice it about the same time I notice that the water has stopped.

Turning I see my Mom walking into the kitchen in her white terry cloth robe and her head in a towel turban. Her feet are in the slightly worn slippers that I got her two years ago for her birthday. I place a reminder to get her a new pair for Christmas in my in box. Smiling I get her down a cup.

"Good morning." She says softly.

I smile

"Yes it is." I open my arms to her and with a smile she comes over and gives me a hug.

It's amazing what being with a woman for a few years will do for your perspective about other women.

Not a thing.

My mom is still the most beautiful woman I've ever known.

Her face is warm against the side of my neck. Her skin flush from the shower.

"It's good to have you home." She says still talking softly. "Is Julie still asleep?"

I nod.

"Yea she won't wake up for at least two more hours. Not the early to rise type."

Mom chuckles.

"Want your favorite for breakfast?" she asks opening the cabinet door in front of me to display the pancake syrup.

"Been awhile since I've had your waffles. That would be wonderful."

"Will she fuss over the calorie count?" She asks with a mischievous smile that I have always loved to see on her face.

I nod.

"Good." She says turning me lose. "You're getting too skinny anyway."

I chuckle at my Mom as she moves over and get the old waffle maker from the cabinet. I grab the mixing bowl and the flour for her. I soon feel like a little kid again helping her in the kitchen.

Other times comes to mind as well. The years before I left when the fact that women are sexy and that you know what? My Mom is one of them had hit me. Those mornings had been a whole lot different. At least for me. Her habit of taking a shower every morning to help get woke up. The fact that she has on only her panties under that robe...back then and now... was a thing that had begun to fascinate me. The occasional slips when her robe would part and I would see the side of her breast. The one time I opened the fridge for her and she leaned in to get the milk and I actually saw her nipple.

A beautiful pink cone. I can still picture it. I watch her move about the kitchen and remember fondly those mornings. I would quite often have to go take care of a raging hard on. It did not take long back then; I would be so worked up.

I watch her hip shake as she mixes batter in the bowl. She looks like a belly dancer. Hell Shakira wishes she could move this well.

The spoon stops suddenly. I look up to see her looking at me. A slow smile and a little shake of her head show me caught.

"You still do that?" she asks with a chuckle. "I would have figured married life would have made you finally see your old mother for what she really looks like."

I chuckle.

"What?" I ask with a not comprehending smile.

"When you were a teen you use to watch me like I was Marilyn Monroe. I just figured that having a wife... to see to you... would have gotten you to see that I'm not a big screen starlet, just a fat butt old lady." She shakes her head and goes back to mixing.

Sitting down my coffee I walk over and place my hands on her hips. I love the way they sway for a half-second before they stop. I make mental note of the fact that they are half again as wide as Julie's.

Mom turns her head to look at me with a puzzled frown.

"You're still the most beautiful woman in the world." I tell her.

Mom gives a half chuckle at that.

"Wish you Step Dad thought that. He's constantly after me to lose a few dress sizes. He say my butts getting too big." She gives her hips a shake in my hands.

I notice how warm and soft she feels through the terry clothe robe. I also notice something else. I don't feel the inward curve where a panty line would be.

She stops mixing and looks back at me again.

"Are you going to hold onto my butt all morning? I though you wanted your favorite for breakfast?"

"Well I've got nothing better to do." I say jokingly. Then with a final squeeze I turn her lose.

Pulling a stool out from under the island I go back to watching her cook breakfast. She gets out a package of the little sausage links I haven't gotten to taste since before my wedding. Just the smell of them sets my mouth to watering as she gets them rolling in the pan. Then that beloved scent of warm waffles starts to fill the kitchen.

As the food cooks she steps over to the window and unwraps her hair. The long brown mass of wet falls shorter than I remember it use to but I still love the way it looks. She leans forward and with the dry outside of her towel starts to dry her hair. She pulls it back from her face and then wraps it back up again.

Leaning over I give the sausages a roll in their pan.

Her hand touches mine on the handle of the pan.

"I'm fixing breakfast here young man." She say giving me a raised eyebrow. "Just because you learned how to cook don't mean you do it here."

"But I learned from such a wonderful cook I though I would share some of her techniques." I say jokingly.

Mom waves that off.

"Oh I already know all that she knows."

We both laugh.

Memories of working here with my mom to get dinner ready. The little brushes against her, as she would direct me in how to fix the family dishes.

Things I've not been allowed to cook in years. Suddenly I have a want for them again. From the simple things like pan fried potatoes all the way up to the masterpieces of buttery pasta, cheese and meat that can pack the pounds on your butt and the fat around your arteries in a single meal.

I also feel a want for other things then, watching my mom opening the griddle and pooping out a hot waffle. The butter melts on contact to fill the center wells and then she drizzles it with syrup. Three of the links and the plate is in front of me.

"You want milk?" she asks getting down a glass.

Looking down at my empty coffee cup I debate for a half-second and decide.

"Yes please." I say.

"Well get it yourself then I've got breakfast to cook." She sprays the griddle and pours more batter in.

Laughing I get up and taking the glass go to the fridge. I look at the half-forgotten red label and shake my head at the whole idea of 'whole' milk. Closing the gallon jug I sit it back and start to close the door.

"Hold that open I need more butter."

Stepping around the door I hold it for her as she places the rest of the sausage links back in, then starts to open a new box of butter sticks. Real butter. I know when she wakes my little dietitian upstairs is going to be ravening like a loon.

Looking down I notice that her robe has parted and I can see all of one side of her breast. The darker freckled top, the creamy white lower side. Then she moves and that beautiful pink cone appears. I draw in a deep breath and hold it willing this moment to last forever. I have to wonder it the growing hard on will push the door closed though I spring up so fast.

Then my eyes are on hers and I see the smile.

"Seen enough of do I need to stay bent over here longer?" she asks

I glance down to the still visible nipple then back up at her. A grin appears.

"Longer"

She gives a little half snort of laughter.

"I raised a weird son. It's a saggy memory of what it was when I was your age." She looks down at herself. I hear again the little huff. "Not surprising I guess though, you had a preference for that one when I nursed you."

She stands up and her robe closed.

"Sorry to disappoint you but your foods getting cold, mines about to burn and my backs starting to hurt." She pulls the door closed out my hand and then she gives a chuckle. "Well some ones pitching a tent this morning."

Chuckling I walk back to the island and my food.

I can't remember when it was that my Mom and I became the best of friends. Maybe around the time I had my first crush on a girl. Cindy Williams was her name. It was Mom that noticed the hangdog look on my face after, little Cindy, rejected my offer to take her out. It was mom that told me how to approach her differently.

It was also Mom that drove us to the movies for that first date, left us then came back and got us. She was the one I told about my first kiss. She was the one that told me how to do it better.

That my mom was the secret to my success with girls all through high school was something I kept from my envious friends.

As she sits down with her plate opposite me the level that I have depended on that relationship with her comes to me. She is my best friend in the whole world.

Oh I have buddies to sit and watch a game with. To drink a beer with as we grill hamburgers our wives don't want us to be eating.

But none of them, not the first one means to me what this woman does.

My eyes go to the big family photo on the wall by the door to the hall. Taken just after high school but before I entered college I see Mom and my Step Dad Bruce, and the family dog back then Smokey. And me. My arm is around my Mom's shoulder and the other is holding Smokey by the collar. The German shepherd wanted to go play not sit for photos.

Looking at her I see then the effects of time.

Her hair is a lot shorter than back then. Her face has taken the effects of time well but there have been damages. I give a nod to the fact that she had makeup on then and doesn't now but...

My best friends getting old.

My first...real model for what a wife should be like is growing old.

The woman I lusted after to her amusement...

My Mom is...

A sudden lump appears in my throat and I know it's not waffle. Placing my fork on the empty plate I get up and walk around to her side of the island.

She watches me walk around her with a quirky look. Her eyes go wide as I step forward pressed up against her back and wrap her in a hug. The damp towel turban is against the side of my face but my face touches her cheek.

"What...?"

"I love you Mom." I say then. I put all my sudden worry into it.

Her hands come up to rest on my arms.

"I love you too. What's the matter?" she asks after a few moments when I don't turn her lose. "What is it?"

"I... I just all of a sudden became afraid I'm going to lose you."

She hugs my arms, then pats them to signal to turn her lose. She spins the stool around and puts her hands on my shoulders

I obey the gentle downward urge and kneel down in front of her.

Suddenly the world looks right for some reason. She smiles, as she seems to notice the same.

"I won't lie and say I'm going to live forever." She says her hand coming to brush the hair out my eyes. A gesture made a million times when I was younger to indicate she thinks I need a haircut. "So one day you will I'm sure. It won't be any day soon, I hope at least. The women in our family have a long life expectancy. Hell my Mom lived into her eighties. If I math right I'll have thirty more years to sneak you a good breakfast under the nose of your wifey."

I chuckle.

I sniff, but the smell of waffles has the whole kitchen dominated.

"I worry about you. A lot. The way you eat."

She huffs.

"I worry about the way you eat!" she shakes her head. "All this diet this and whole wheat that. Every one's talking about people living longer on better diets but every time I look around I hear about someone dying in their fifties or sixties now days. Your grandfather lived to be 77 years old. He ate biscuits made with lard, buttered, and stuffed with pork sausage almost every day of his life. He drank, smoked, according to most people he didn't eat right and was a bit on the plump side after he retired. He was the healthiest happiest man I ever knew."

"What did he die of?" I ask trying to remember back to when I was twelve.

"Viagra."

Dying with laughter I lean my head forward against my Mom lap and just laugh till I cry.

"I'm serious. Mom said he went to the doctor got a prescription and chased her around the house like he was twenty again. He passed away in his sleep some time after having sex." Her hand comes down to rest on my head. "Hell if there is a good way to go I can't think of a better myself, how about you?"

Shaking my head I notice then that my cheek is laying on the split in her terry cloth rob. That her bare thighs are just under my cheek brings back to me the earlier thought of the morning.

Still kneeling I look up at this woman. This woman I have loved and lusted after most of my life. That long look at her nipple has replaced the earlier glimpse in my memory.

She smiles when she sees my face. She always could read me like a book.

"Are you worried I'll leave you to have too cook for yourself or because you wont get to watch me?" she brushes back the hair again from my face. She leans down till she close to my head. Her words are a whisper "I enjoyed this morning more than I have in a long time. It was nice to have a sexy young man wanting to peek at me again. It's been awhile."

I smile and look down with a bit of an embarrassed blush. My eyes focus on the knot of her robe.

One knot. Just one knot and what I have longed to see for half my life will not be hidden.

I look back up at her. Her face shifts till I know she's waiting for the question she can tell I want to ask.

"Could I see more? All the rest of you?" For a second my eyes drop to the knot or more to what is under it.

Her face takes on an uncertain look. I can tell there are dozens of thoughts flying around behind her eyes.

"Please." I say in a whisper.

She looks down at my face taking in the look I have there. Her hands drift to the knot in her robe... then stops.

"Why do you want to? I don't look that good under here anymore." Her eyes gesture upward toward the spare bedroom. "Julie up there has a far nicer and younger body. Go upstairs and talk her into some fun."

"I think you're the most beautiful woman in the whole world." I say softly. "And as excited as seeing one breast can make me I want to very much see all the rest."

Her head lifts up and she listens to the house. That's the first sign I see that's she's really considering it.

"What if you don't like what I look like? Will that change your opinion of me? She smiles. "I kind of like that, most beautiful woman in the world, thing, even if only one man thinks that. I'm not sure I want to show him something that will change that opinion."

Sitting back a bit I look down at her feet, in the little house shoes, hanging a foot off the floor. I place my hand behind her ankle and gently drift my fingers across her calf

"Your legs are firm." I say in a whisper.

"I walk a lot." She says softly her eyes on my face.

My hand drift up to the bend in her knee. The robe parts that far.

"So far I don't see anything I don't love." I say looking up at her with a smile.

"You're not at the bad parts yet.'

"I don't think there are any." I tell her stroking my hand to the outside of her knee. The robe opens a bit more as my thumb brushes past it. I see a pale slice of her thigh. "This looks beautiful."

She sits quiet as my fingers lightly brush the soft skin. I see her look up and listen to the house again.

It's very quiet, everyone sleeping in but us.

Her breathing heavy her hand moves to the knot in her robe. I look up at her face as she undoes the knot. Her hand holds the robe together. The other comes up to brush hair from beside my eyes.

"You need a haircut." She says softly.

I nod.

As I watch she slides down off the stool the robe opening before my eyes.

The first thing I see is the most luscious patch of dark brown hair. It covers her in a tight V just above where her thighs meet. Above it my eyes go to a six-inch scar that is all but worn down by the passage of so many years.

My eyes drift upward from the place of my birth to her belly button. The skin around it is a little slack from the gaining and losing of weight over the years. It sits like a little divot in her skin. I have to fight the almost overwhelming compulsion to lean forward and place a kiss there. But then I've been doing that from second one...about many places.

She opens the robe fully.

I see then her breasts, both of them, hanging from the center of her chest in beautifully round pink tipped wonder. My eyes go to a small scar on one side. I look up to her face. It's flushed with blush and she's panting I direct my eyes back to the scar then ask a question without words.

"A little scare about a year back. It was just a calcium deposit. I didn't want to worry you till I was sure...so I never told you."

"Don't do that again." I say firmly.

She nods.

I let my gaze drift from place to place across her body.

"Well?" she asks then. "Same opinion or different?"

Smiling I lean back a bit so that she can see the tenting in my sweat pants.

She smiles for a second then shakes her head.

"That's a man's opinion of any naked woman. I want what your eyes think."

Looking back up at my Mom I smile.

"You are the most beautiful, desirable woman I have ever seen."

She shakes her head.

"I see you need to get an eye exam as well as a hair cut.

She starts to close her robe.

"Wait!"

She stops but looks around clearly listening to the house again. I can see she's worried about Bruce or Julie coming in and catching us.

After a moment she looks down at me and tilts her head.

"What? You've seen it long enough to remember what I look like. I can't stand around with my robe open all morning."

I look at her face. With so much else to see I look at her beautiful face. Probably the first one I ever saw when my eyes opened.

"You'll never let me see you like this again will you?" I ask but I already know the answer.

She shakes her head.

"No. I'm sagging more every year. If you're going to remember what I look like naked I want it to be the best memory I can give...so no."

The brown curls are warm and soft under my lips.

I hear the gasp as I place kiss after kiss into them. She leans back till she hit the stool but I simply follow.

My thought had been to simply place a single kiss in the dark curls but after that one and the smell of her hair damp from the shower. I couldn't stop at one!

My hands go up the back of her legs till I 'm holding her by the back of her thighs preventing her escape. My face is in heaven as I burrow it into the tangle.

Then her hand is on my head. First pushing to make me move back. Then behind my head holding me in place.

Then pushing me lower.

As my mouth touches her lips I hear a soft sound from her. She moves a little then her thighs opening to give me access.

Oh how to describe the taste of your own mother? She's like every woman I've gone down on and yet there is a wonderful difference. Maybe it's just a difference in my mind but I feel it none the less.

Then my tongue is licking through her.

Mom's fingers dig into my hair, the nails into my scalp.

I explore her then finding what she enjoys the most. She helps to guide me there using my head as a handle. She doesn't care for too much on her clit. She pushes me lower when I lick there. She enjoyed me sucking on the inner lips for a bit but then I'm being directed even further down.

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byMSTarot© 29 comments/ 131428 views/ 62 favorites

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