Call Me Brenda

Author's note: This is just a fun little incest fantasy I dreamed up a few nights ago. I have a sequel planned sometime as soon as I have time to write it all. Please vote and/or comment, I love getting feedback.

*****

"Oh, fucking hell..." she yelled as she tipped over the edge surely, her fingers working a blur in and out of her squelching pussy.

My hand was flying over my cock, surely and quickly, as I climbed rapidly myself. A part of me was in amazement at the pure oddness of this set of circumstances, like a distant man somewhere in the annals of my brain yelling, albeit so faintly I could barely hear him. The rest of me was laser-focused on cumming, to the point where a news crew bursting in the door would probably not have stopped me.

As I watched mom climax, her toes curling, and a stream of liquid flow out of her oozing cunt, I lost it. My hand was flying, and it was only a matter of seconds until I shot, my cum jettisoning out powerfully from days upon days of buildup, splashing in thick streams and pooling on my chest.

For a brief second, I was a tick horrified. What had we just done?! But then, mom laughed a low, rising chuckle. "I'm sorry..." she began, glancing at my face, then looking down, trying to repress it but obviously failing. "The look on your face is priceless. It's okay honey, it's not a big deal. You're not going to burst into flames or anything like that." She flopped on her stomach beside me, throwing that smooth, muscular calf over my shin, looking right at me. "It's just play," she added, putting her hand on my chest, then blowing her hair out of her face.

"But, that was..." I trailed off, nervous.

"Wrong? Please, it was just play. We're not having a kid together or running off into the sunset to get married somewhere people don't know us. Shit, it's not like we're church people or believe in hell. I'm sure as shit not going to tell anybody about this. Plus, you had fun, right? We're adults, we've always been close. This is just one more thing. It's not that huge, ultimately. Just relax and lay here with me."

So I did. I laid there, with my mother, my cum still covering my abdomen and chest, still able to smell her divine feminine musk, tinged with sweat and her now faint perfume. And despite having just blown my load, I was still buzzing and craving more. I took a deep breath and tried to relax.

So the backstory to this bizarre, borderline improbable situation began with my mother, who got pregnant with me at 21. Mom has always been a tough woman possessed of incredible inner strength. Youngest of 3, orphaned at 16 when her parents got in a fatal pileup, she finished high school between the foster system and her older brother's couch, applied herself, and was in college when she hooked up with my dad, who promptly knocked her up. She wasn't about to let this derail her though, and when she decided to keep me, she forced dear old Chet (I can never quite think of him as dad) to man up and watch me at nights while she finished nursing school and did her first rotations. When I was 3, he took off—he's always battled alcohol and drugs, usually losing. I grew up without him, although every few years he made a stab at sobriety and came around for a short while, eventually tapering off and then disappearing for several years. By the time I was 20 he'd done three prison stints for petty financial crimes and more spots in jail than I could count. Mom had finally told him on this last one that unless he could show her an honest one year chip from a 12-step program, to not bother coming around. I hadn't seen him since I was 13, a fact I didn't regret. Last I heard he was awaiting another trial on credit card fraud.

When I was 8 she had bought our little house up on the Oregon coast after taking a job in a small hospital. It wasn't anything amazing to look at, a little 2 bedroom cottage that had clearly been added on to over time, but the land was why she had pulled the trigger. A full acre, including a giant patch of dirt perfect for a garden, and fruit growing galore, including two apple trees, currant and loganberry vines, and blackberry vines always encroaching on our back fence. The place was odd and a bit ramshackle, but mom loved to turn the earth, growing volumes of veggies, tending to the vines and trees, and even erecting a greenhouse for tomatoes and peppers.

Growing up with just the two of us, we were obviously close. Mom being a nurse, she tended to be more...aggressive and frank, I guess, when it came to sex talk. Whereas some of my friends' parents were ridiculous in their avoidance, mine was blunt and straightforward. When I was 13, she found porn I'd left open on my computer. I was expecting to get a talking to, but she instead gave me a very sweet lecture about how it was totally normal, along with a discussion about my porn choices and what to expect from the real thing. In addition to the safety lectures on condoms and birth control you'd expect when your mom's a nurse, she was extremely sex positive, and she bought me books on how to have good sex and how to please a woman, including a rather thick treatise on oral that included pictures and diagrams. When I finally lost my virginity, I told her about it, and we discussed the entire experience in detail—she wanted to know if I had made sure my girlfriend had enjoyed it as much as I did. This talk continued with every girl I was with, and she also told me a fair bit about her boyfriends with a bit of graphic detail, so I knew, for example, that she had dumped Richard mainly because he was a quick draw, but had kept up with Joe for a while because he was both a great guy and totally enjoyed giving oral, even though he had a somewhat small dick that didn't do much for her.

I suppose what I'm getting at is that my perception of my mom, growing up, included obvious realization that she had and enjoyed sex a lot, and didn't consider it a shameful or terribly serious act. We tended to discuss our sex lives as openly and frankly as any other topic. Mom—Brenda—stood about 5'4", with a body she kept sculpted with constant running of long distances and lifting weights, and she seemed carved out of stone, even at 42, though just below the line of overly muscular. She had long, thick, wavy, ashy blonde hair, a heart shaped face with gigantic green eyes, high cheekbones, and due to a combo of great self care and awesome genes, looked about 28-30 on even her worst days. About 10 years ago she had decided to give herself a birthday gift and got a fantastic set of D-cup breasts, which filled out the tank tops and sundresses she favored nicely. On top of that, she was a woman that positively radiated sex appeal. From her walk, which incorporated a great swing of the hips, to her deep, breathy voice, her naturally charming and flirtatious manner of locking her eyes on you and peppering light touches, I had seen countless men and boys alike key in on her, obviously infatuated within minutes. But to her, it was just her manner, part of who she was. With me, she would routinely cuddle on the couch, kiss me on the mouth, hug me tight, and I never thought much of it, because that's just who she was. It was never intended to be sexual and I never took it as such.

I had stayed at home for the first two years of college to save money and attend my local JC—I was looking forward to my independence eventually, but in no hurry to run off yet. Ironically, it was a screwed up twist of fate that set the events of that fateful night in motion. My mom has two brothers. Clinton is normal(ish) and has a family up in Washington, but Dugan has always been the black sheep, and by the time I was 20 had not spoken to anyone in the family in over 15 years over some imagined slight to his new wife from Japan. He called one day out of the blue begging for help, homeless and destitute, and mom took pity, offering him a place to stay. He arrived two days later, with an SUV full of his entire life, along with seven (!!) cats.

Needless to say, this was a point of contention. He obviously didn't care, but several of them were males that weren't fixed, and they peed on everything. I had to close my bedroom door all the time, which sucked because my room had no heater, and I usually kept it open in the winter to take advantage of the wall heater in the hallway. That first morning, I woke up able to see my own breath. Mom and Dugan fought a bit, and her short term suggestion was that I sleep in her room until she could get him or at least the un-neutered cats out.

Sleeping in the same bed as mom (I offered to do a sleeping bag on the floor, which she laughed off) was fine overall but the unfortunate side was that she was very tactile and cuddly. If I slept on my back, she was on her stomach with her hand on my chest and a leg thrown over my midsection, usually dangerously close to my morning hard on. If I turned on my side away from her, she'd spoon into my back, pressing those firm tits into my back and her hips would be right against my ass. If I was on my other side facing her, she'd press her tight butt right against my crotch and reach back with her hand placed firmly on my hip. Any attempt to move away during the night usually resulted in her scooting right back against me in her sleep, so after a few nights of trying, I just gave up and let it happen. Still, it was frustrating. I'd broken up with my girlfriend right before this whole mess, and the addition of a third person into the house along with frequent fighting, plus this new sleeping arrangement, had ensured I wasn't even able to jerk off in peace.

As a young, in shape man, this was the longest I gone without an orgasm since puberty. One morning, the alarm jolted me from a very pleasant dream that was just starting to turn sexy, and after mom reached over to shut off the alarm, she scooted back in against my raging morning boner. "Good morning," she began sleepily, before her breath caught as she felt my firm erection slide between her perky ass cheeks. "Ooh, good morning," she said with a playful change in tone as she felt my hardness. "Someone had some nice dreams," she added, playfully wiggling her butt against my cock.

I hopped backwards, nearly falling off the bed. "Mom, what the hell?!" I snapped.

"I'm sorry honey, it wasn't right of me to tease you. I was just surprised. Getting all twitchy for your old mommy."

"Jesus! It was just an involuntary response!"

"Duh, I know. That was wrong, both the act and the joke. I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

"It's okay mom. I'm sorry I freaked out. I was just a little..." i trailed off. What I didn't want to admit was that I had liked it and I was actually feeling my body getting closer to cumming due to the dream and her proximity. Even with as open as my mom was, I was pretty sure she didn't want to feel me cum in my boxers against her ass.

It took about two weeks total, but eventually mom and Dugan had a showdown where she said, essentially, that living here required he get rid of at least the majority of the cats. After a lot of yelling, he finally packed up and left, and mom gave him some gas money and a quick hug before he pulled away complaining at her. We both breathed a sigh of relief, before going into full disinfecting mode, spraying urine removing compound all over the place, scrubbing like crazy, trying to remove all of the traces of him and his disgusting animals.

We'd started about 10am, right after he left, and didn't finish until it was about 8 at night, despite the fact that it was a tiny place, only about 1000 square feet. At the end of it all, we went to the store, and then my favorite local Mexican restaurant, where we got some combos to go. We sat at our little kitchen table, eating in quiet peace with the doors open as the house aired out and the carpets dried, a steady cold NW winter rain falling outside. We were both grungy and covered in dried sweat, hunger slowly dissipating, when I suggested ice cream.

"Actually, I have another idea that may be more appropriate," she replied, digging out a small plastic tub of some mix and a bottle of booze. "You ever have a hot buttered rum?"

"No, I don't think so."

"It's perfect for cold nights like this. Plus we could probably use something for painkiller. I don't know about you, but I'm sore as a motherfucker."

I was also pretty tender, so I readily agreed. She quickly set about the kitchen, boiling some water, scooping the mixture in, a small spoonful of vanilla ice cream, and then a shot of rum in each mug. As she started to stir, she hesitated, then dumped another shot in each. "You aiming to get me drunk?" I joked.

"I'm aiming to get me drunk. Your intoxication is incidental. Considering you have a good 80 or so pounds on me, I think you'll be fine." I shrugged and took the mug proffered.

So we talked and drank. About the situation with Dugan, and about his falling out first with their parents, then with her other brother and the rest of the family. How he had claimed people said things to him that were against their stories and also completely out of character. It seemed, we both agreed, as we refilled the mugs a second and then a third time, that he might be mentally ill. Nothing else explained his actions or fit as well. It obviously hurt her, but she seemed to be coping with it well.

Eventually, we moved into her room, sitting on the bed. She looked at me very seriously and changed the topic. "Can we talk about you getting embarrassed over your erection the other morning? You know you have nothing to be self conscious about, right? It was morning wood, and your body doesn't know the difference between your mom and any other woman in the bed with you."

"No, it's not that," I began.

"Well..." she interjected, pushing me along.

"I was having a really sexy dream, and I'm kinda pent up the last few weeks. I haven't gotten laid since I dumped Becky, and I haven't even been able to jerk off since Dugan got here because I have barely used my room, plus he was so loud and always wanting in the bathroom or asking me something. I haven't had a moment's quiet since he got here."

"Poor baby," she said as she pulled me into a close hug, and I felt a little uncomfortable stirring in my crotch due to her proximity. "And I'm sorry I teased you. It just felt nice to have a hard dick against me, even if it wasn't meant for me. I'll try not to do that in the future."

"Well, with me sleeping back in my own bed, it shouldn't be an issue."

She pulled away, looked down and screwed up her expression a little bit. "Yeah...you know, I knew it was going to be an eventuality. I just really enjoyed cuddling with you."

"That's the point, mom, I was enjoying it way too much," I replied.

"Oh my god... you were more that just hard. You were gonna cum!"

"Yeah, that was the point. I didn't want to make a mess on your ass."

"I wouldn't have taken it personally. Plenty of other guys have done so and wanted to." Her words had a slight linger, I noticed. She was definitely more buzzed than me, and I was feeling the effects pretty strong.

I just laughed. "Yeah, I'm good."

"No you aren't baby. You need to jerk off tonight." She stood up and started to get ready for bed, which just consisted of her shucking her jeans and pulling off her tank top and bra with her back turned to me, followed by her throwing on an old tee. "Maybe twice. And we need to find you some oral slut."

"I had one," I grumbled in reply.

"Oh yeah, we haven't even had the chance to talk about it. What happened with little Miss Becky?" She said the very last bit with a slight southern drawl, a little mocking, as she hadn't liked her very much. Truthfully, neither did I, she was sweet and pretty but dumb as all hell. "Why'd you dump her? I thought she was a fun little lay."

"She was okay. She really loved sucking dick, though. Unfortunately not just mine."

"Ouch. I'm so sorry, babe," she replied. I was vaguely aware of her hand on my thigh, warm and gentle on my skin right below the hem of my shorts.

"Me too." An uncomfortable silence hung for a few seconds.

"Well at least you got your dick sucked, even if she was a shitty lay and cheater!" she shot back cheerfully.

"Yeah..."

"So...what was good about it?" she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. I giggled despite my foul mood. She could always make me laugh.

"She just had a passion for it. Her technique was good, not crazy articulate but she'd deep throat me with ease, and just keep going. She'd suck me until I finished in her mouth, swallow it all, and then pop off and thank me. Then sometimes she'd just keep going until I tried to push her off because I was sensitive, and then she'd work to get me hard again so we could fuck."

"Nice"

"Yeah. Unfortunately the sex didn't match the intensity of the blow job."

"How so?" she asked.

"She was slow and very gentle. She said my dick hurt if we went too hard. She's really small, after all. And I like a woman I can fuck a bit harder."

"Mmm. Yeah, it's so much better when you can just slam into each other. Feeling that impact and hearing flesh clap...god it's the best."

"Yeah..." I agreed, lost in a bit of revelry.

"Damn baby! How do you carry that without a permit?"

I looked down, and realized that I was at full mast, and my long, thick member was tenting to the point of pushing the head plus a couple inches out of the waistband of my shorts. I blushed and started to move away, but she just giggled and grabbed my waistband, pulling me back toward the bed. "You have to stop being self-conscious about your body! It's normal. So you have a boner, big fucking deal!"

"It's just embarrassing, that's all."

"Why?!"

"You're my mom!"

"Please, you've seen my tits a bunch of times! What's the difference?" She had always been somewhat casual about nudity and liked to sunbathe in nothing but a thong.

"Those are just tits, though!"

She smiled a mischievous smile, glancing down, then back up at me. "Hey."

"What?"

"Lemme see it."

"No!"

"What? I've seen it before!"

"Yeah, long ago, under way different circumstances."

"Yeah, but this is kinda hot. C'mon, there's nothing we can't share, you know that."

"I don't know," I replied. "It seems like it would be...strange, maybe?"

"Okay, fine!" she snapped, flipping onto her back, pulling her panties off in one swoop, and spreading her legs wide. I was instantly riveted to the sight of her pussy. "Fucking equality. You happy?" she shot back, as she very slowly peeled her big, meaty lips apart. "Can you see my appendix when I do this?"

I barely registered the joke. Her pussy was completely hairless, with a very nice coating of wetness and a couple of drops of dew slowly dripping out. I had seen a woman's cunt plenty of times in person, and probably more than my share of porn, but at this moment, this was the hottest thing I had ever seen. A real, mature pussy, much like some of the MILF porn I tended to devour, exotic because I'd only slept with girls around my age. I could smell a tinge of her arousal in the air. My hand went into my shorts, almost against my will, grabbing my member, which had never been this hard. I started to stroke myself slowly. "Ooh. Yes please. That's so fucking hot," she murmured, as she slowly began to work her clit gently.

"Cmon, ditch the shorts, and sit down," she urged me.

I pulled the drawstring, and let them drop to the floor. As she saw this, she slowly began to apply some more pressure to her clit. "Yeah, that's good," she purred. I clamped down a little harder, enjoying the sensation. The heated rum had hit my stomach hard and it felt like I had lost much of my resistance, but I hesitated for a second.

"Relax, Martin. I promise we won't touch. It's fine. Let's just have some fun. Think of this like live action Pornhub."