Clarissa

Welcome to a new story about love and incest. The characters in the story are fictitious and are in no way founded on anyone currently living. It is about a mother and son, and their struggles to not give in to that base creature that lurks beneath the surface of us all.

Please enjoy and leave a comment. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

T.

She woke with that same burning sensation in the pit of her stomach that had pursued her now for weeks. She knew what it meant and like every occasion before, she chose to ignore it. Instead, she got up from bed, went over to her chest of drawers and pulling out some leggings and a top, sat on her dressing table chair to slip on the tight lycra, sans panties, pulling on some socks, then wrestled into an equally tight T-shirt. She knew it was overly small for her, particularly with her sized breasts, but it held them nicely without the need for a sports bra, which she hated wearing. Putting on her jogging shoes, Clarissa slipped quietly from the house, she needed to try and run this thing off.

She loved the freedom that wearing no underwear gave her. Yes, she knew it would attract some attention, most of it unwanted, some...... maybe not so much. She was no exhibitionist, but would get some small enjoyment from the admiring glances that she would get from those few men she passed on her run. It was not too late that she would miss the other running nuts out there, but not too early either, that she would not bump into the odd dog walker or early-bird.

At 39, Clarissa had a good body and she knew it, was proud of it and fully intended to keep it that way. Her curves were all in the right places, her hardness where she wanted it and her general fitness equal to when she was in her twenties. She smiled as she jogged, enjoying her body and how it felt, though the burning sensation as it did on all the other days, got worse rather than better.

Her five-mile run, took her along the tow path of the local canal. It was still cool, though the sun was already up. The dappled light, from the trees she ran beneath, cast mottled shadows that teased her form in darkness and light as she ran. The chill in the air encouraged her already hardened nipples to make a further nuisance of themselves by getting harder and more sensitive still. The friction of her restrained, but not completely captured orbs as they jiggled nicely beneath the T-shirt was causing all sorts of fabulous sensations upon these erected nubs of erogenous tissue, that with each pound upon the road was causing Clarissa a severe distraction.

She found her breathing was not as controlled as it should be from just jogging and at times sounded more like she was involved in activity of another sort, her puffing and panting sounding more like a sexual encounter than a jog, which judging from the way her body was reacting this morning, was probably not far from the truth.

As her long legs pounded the road before her, each and every footfall, seemed to encourage the burning in her stomach, rather than dispense with it and as such, it had now radiated Northwards to her chest and of more concern to Clarissa; Southwards to her groin area. Her body was now in control it would seem. It wanted satisfaction, abuse, pleasure and sensitivity. It wanted something that it had been denied for many months now, it wanted, no, it demanded something of Clarissa. Her body was telling her that it wanted release, unmitigated sexual release. Clarissa was not however, prepared to give in to this primal feeling and despite knowing that she wanted it herself, was unprepared to be the only one involved in that activity.

Clarissa stopped and bent over, putting her hands upon her knees, both to help her catch her breath, but also in an attempt at taking away the distracting influence upon her nipples. Even the swelling of her chest as she took deep draughts of breath created exquisite sensations, emanating from her sensitive nipples and transmitting throughout her body, infiltrating her mind, eroding her resolve, like waves attacking an exposed shore-line.

Her bending down did nothing to help her, and further, only offered a perfect view of her pear-shaped, taught bum, clad in a few microns of stretched material, that hid nothing. She may as well have been naked. The seam of the leggings, was creating some extremely interesting shapes as it dived between her legs. The visual effect was not lost on a slowly passing motorist, who tooted on her horn as she went passed, leering lasciviously. To Clarissa, it was more disturbing than being ogled at by some dirty old man in a rain-coat. She stood up and glared at the woman, who just smiled, appreciatingly at Clarissa's full chest and misbehaving nipples. "Ow!" Clarissa groan, turning away. But fortunately, the distraction had been enough for Clarissa, she now felt she could make the last mile of her run, without...... well, without having..... she didn't want to think any more about it, and set off again.

She made her house with what felt like seconds to spare. Her body was in torment. All things sexual, seemed to be firing off. Her chest rose and fell erratically, she knew her erection-topped attributes were being displayed better than any male bird of paradise. She knew her body was telling her that she was primed and ready for sex and it had been transmitting this unequivocally for the last mile, if not the whole run. She was at a turning point, where her body would not take 'no', for an answer.

Clarissa had divorced her husband over a year and a half ago. He had found someone else, someone younger than her and that had really hurt, but what had probably hurt even more was that her replacement looked very similar to how she looked twenty years ago. Her husband hadn't just swapped her for a younger woman, he had swapped her for a younger version of herself! He truly was a bastard.

Of course, Clarissa went through the usual retribution. 'What did I do wrong?' Or perhaps, 'What if I had been more loving as a wife?' But in the end, she concluded that it was simply that he was a bastard. Their sex and the passion within it had deteriorated years ago and felt like they were just going through the motions to please the other person, when in truth, they weren't really pleasing anyone. She had assumed it was just an age thing, something all couples go through. It was an age thing; it was because she was getting too old for him! At 39 she was too old?

Clarissa pushed the thought away and slipped her key quietly into the door lock, letting herself into the house. She kicked off her shoes putting them under the little table in the entrance way and placed her keys on top; ascending the stairs as quietly as she could so that she did not wake her 19-year-old son. But as she got to his door, it opened wide and a dishevelled teenager grunted at her. "Hi....ugh." Chris rubbed at his eyes and yawned, combining several actions all into one.

"Hello Chris, sorry if I woke you?"

"If you mean coming back from your jog, no you didn't."

"Meaning I did when I went out?"

"Uh huh."

Clarissa looked at her son. He was still very much her little boy in countless ways, but in others he was a large and powerful man. His pyjama top was undone and exposed his copper-coloured skin. His chest was completely devoid of hair, which surprised her, because she remembered how proud he had been when at 13, he found his first hair and assumed that he was now a man. 'He must be shaving it?' She though as she continued her appraisal. His pectoral muscles looked toned and firm, his little nipples seemed to be erect at the moment, which made her smile wryly. Her eyes travelled to his abdominals, a wash-board of muscle, chiselled, but relaxed. She then gasped as she noticed the 'tent' in his pyjama bottoms. 'How could she not notice the 'tent?' She drew in a breath and looked up to his eyes for an explanation?

Chris was casually, but avidly, looking at her chest. "Chris?"

"Er sorry mum," he said, putting his hands over his misbehaving appendage. "Busting for a pee. You know how it is?" He stumbled around her and disappeared into the toilet, closing the door behind him and leaving Clarissa standing there with her mouth open.

She heard Chris talking to himself, or perhaps more accurately, talking to his penis in encouragement. "Come on now, I'm busting, pack it in!" It was obvious to Clarissa that he was trying to make himself flaccid enough to urinate. She suddenly laughed out loud, and clamping her hand over her mouth, retired to her room. She remembered how her husband had told her, that he must have a pee before sex, because afterwards, it would take him quite a while, before he could pee again. She also remembered her husband's term for an early morning erection. 'Piss Proud.' Her son was 'Piss Proud.'

To be fair, she had seen her son's little erection, many a time when he had been a baby and even in his younger years. In fact, when changing his nappy, he had managed to catch her out, and before she knew it, he had emptied his little bladder all over her chest. Her smile broadened as she remembered those years when he was a baby. So much happier than recent years. 'I guess he is a little bigger now?' She thought to herself, 'I wonder how big? If that tent is anything to go by.....' She pushed her bedroom door to, and moved to her en-suite, disgusted that her thoughts were moving in that direction.

As she stood before the full-length mirror, her mouth dropped open for a second time. The sweat from her run had soaked into her tight-white-T-shirt, turning it pretty-much transparent, where it touched her skin directly. The most notable signs of transparency, where of course, where the material was stretched to its limit, about her breasts and the still wildly mis-behaving nipples, which could be clearly seen within the darkened surroundings of her areola. Her cleavage was also visible as the sweat-soaked T-shirt had given up trying to hide the treasures beneath it. In fact, she may as well have not been wearing the thing at all, for all of the protection it gave her! "My God," she said quietly to herself, "how could I not have known......OH SHIT, CHRIS!"

She tore off the small item of clothing, noticing that her whole upper chest and neck were flushed with embarrassment and removing the rest of her running gear, she vowed not to wear it again. Standing in the shower, washing herself down, she could think of nothing but her son, Chris. 'Had he clearly seen my breasts? He couldn't have missed my nipples, could he? He would have to have been blind not to? And was he getting erect because he had seen them, or was he truly busting for the loo?' She wished she had looked there first, but then why would she check out her son's appendage? She covered her face with her hands, wondering what sort of Pandora's box she was opening?

Chris was downstairs making breakfast for them both, when Clarissa came down in her dressing gown. The piece of apparel wrapped tightly about her. "I bet that you feel better now? Chris said, whilst looking at her over his coffee cup and sliding across the bar her orange juice.

"What do you mean?" Clarissa said, immediately on the defensive. Her thoughts still in the gutter. She looked down and was pulling at an unseen thread on the gown, just to remove eye contact.

"I mean you looked hot when you came in, I mean really hot!"

"Hot?" Clarissa took him to mean that she looked sexy hot, and her eyes looked up at him blazing.

Chris seemed not to notice and carried on. "Perhaps flustered, is a better word, you looked like you had run 50 miles rather than your usual five. So, I meant that I'm sure you found the shower refreshing and relieving?"

Clarissa looked at her son again, expecting to find a smirk on his face or at least a smile, acknowledging his double entendre, but there was nothing, he just looked genuine and smiled back at her. "Yes, the shower was refreshing. And yes, I needed it. Sorry you had to see me all hot and sweaty, it won't happen again."

"Can't say I noticed," Chris lied, "I can't see anything when I first wake up, my eyes don't focus, besides I had my own concerns, as you noticed." Chris expanded upon the lie almost effortlessly.

"Oh, oh...," she said not expecting that reply.

"In fact, it is more me that should apologise, I think I was displaying a little more than I should in front of my mother!"

"Nonsense, I have seen it all before, and your father used to be the same."

"I'm sure he was, given the same stimulus," Chris replied knowingly. "Now, eggs, bacon, hash browns, beans, mushrooms, toast and juice, how does that sound?"

"Just what I need inside me right now! Erm....that is.....what I meant was....." Clarissa was a bright crimson.

"Know just what you mean," Chris replied without turning round from the cooker, saving Clarissa from her own embarrassment.

Clarissa drank her juice and studied the back of her son, not, she realised very quickly, as a mother appraises her son, with pride and the pleasure of knowing that she had raised a good specimen of a man; though that was there too. No, she was appraising him from the point of view of taking pleasure in his broad back, his narrow waist and his nice tight bottom. His thighs, which broke forth from his short-shorts were a deep golden colour from the sun, were heavily muscled and lacking in hair. Clarissa knew that Chris shaved his legs, she knew he shaved his chest too, now. She was suddenly curious to know if he shaved his pubic hair and his balls?

Within her private thoughts about her son, she had not noticed the heat that had crept up on her. The heat that emanated from her loins. She tingled with heightened senses. As she breathed her nipples once again began to rasp against her dressing gown, the fullness of her breasts pushing open the garment to reveal her cleavage more than she would have liked in front of her son. She had worn this robe many times before, only now was she uncomfortable in it.

Looking down at herself, her increased arousal was fully on display. Her nipples, large thumb-nail sized erections of inflamed nerve endings. Her breasts, upper chest and neck, plus her face were a burning red from her thoughts and her increased passion. As her breathing got more erratic, so her breasts fought to free themselves from the gown once more. She watched as each breath eroded the protection of the garment, until almost one of her nipples had broken free, before she pulled the robe about her again, and re-tightened the cord. Looking up, Chris was now facing her with her plate of food. 'How long had he been looking at her? How much had he seen of her breasts? Did he realise how turned on his mother was?' Clarissa's thoughts were running wild.

"There you go." Chris leaned across to place her plate upon the counter. His eyes strayed but only a milli-second to look at his mother's cleavage and swollen nipples, before turning to collect his plate. But Clarissa had seen him look. And knowing that he had seen her in the full flush of her arousal, only spurned on that feeling in her all the more. She felt both excited and disgusted with herself, and set to eating, having thanked Chris, trying her best to remove her thoughts from the gutter in which she had found them.

"So," said Clarissa, trying to break the silence, that she felt was very awkward and probably all of her making. "What have you got planned for today?"

"Oh, same as ever really. Job hunting, but the months before Uni, are getting shorter, so what success I will have is diminishing by the day. I was going to cut the grass and paint the fence at the back too."

"Oh, lovely, I must say that I am going to miss having a man about the house."

"Mum please, with me out of the way, you will be able to bring all of your fellas home!"

"All of my fellas? I don't know what sort of a woman you think I am young man, but I don't have any fellas?"

"Then it is about time that you did. A good-looking woman like you. And with me out of the way, it should be all the easier."

Clarissa looked at her son, to see if there was more to read into what he had said, but he was thumbing through his phone and so she took what he said at face value. Something he thought she would want to hear.

"I'd best get ready for work. Thanks again for breakfast. I feel up to tackling the day now, but I'm glad it's Friday. Perhaps we can go to the cinema over the weekend? Is there anything you fancy?" As she stood, and leaned over to pick up her plate, Clarissa's wayward left breast broke free of its bondage and began to tumble out. Feeling it suddenly release itself, Clarissa quickly controlled the situation and turned concealing it back without having flashed so much as a nipple. She quickly looked back at her son. Her face burning all the more, but he was head down studying his phone and appeared not to have noticed any of her recent undoing in his presence.

"Sure," he said, answering her recent question, "I've seen quite a lot I fancy. Hopefully I'll get chance to see some more later, then we can discuss when you get home?"

'GOD!' Thought Clarissa, why does everything he says, appear to me to be an innuendo? "Yes, well do let me know if you see anything you like." She had said the words, before she could take them back. Trying to put some sort of emphasis on it, but of what sort, she knew not herself?

Clarissa left for her room and pushing the door to, began to select what to wear. Her job was working within the corporate sector of a city bank, so she always dressed smartly, and picked out a nice white blouse and black pleated skirt, that came to just above her knees. She then went to her lingerie draw and pulled out a matching bra and panty set in salmon pink. Hoping that the white blouse was opaque enough to hide her bra. She closed the draw and opened the one next to it and pulled out a fresh packet of black tights, returning to her full-length mirror to get dressed.

Slipping the tie on the robe she removed it all together, and turning, put the rode across her dressing table chair. Returning to the mirror, she was not surprised to see her nipples still fully hard, her quite large areola had been drawn into the creation of her nipple's erections and crowned her fabulous breasts with pride. Her upper chest, neck and face still burned with her full arousal and from this angle, she could see that her vaginal lips too, were showing that they required some much-needed attention.

Refusing to be drawn, she raised her hands to her long-straight-black hair, that played about her naked shoulders and ran a brush through it several times before tying in a ponytail. Then she giggled as she ran her hair brush through the neatly trimmed but equally black hair on her pubic mound. The hair there was trimmed to be concealed within her smallest and skimpiest bikini bottoms, and that was how she liked it. Hair poking out of panties was a real no-no for her.

Picking up her front fastening bra, she slipped her arms into the straps then leant forwards slightly to capture her two fantastically formed breasts. The nipples, far from protesting at being captured once more, filled her body with the electric shocks of pleasure, with an intensity that only these two erogenous zones could provide. As she fasted the clip between her breasts, Clarissa looked at herself in the mirror and realised that she was biting her bottom lip, and could see her thighs trembling. Her body was reminding her once more of its need. How much longer could she deny it?

Her eyes strayed again to her vaginal lips. Swollen and glistening. The hood of her clitoris was engorged and demanded to be touched. Her hands ran down her rib-cage, feeling the undulation of each bone on her slim body, then across the flat of her stomach, nearing her pubic mound, where They stalled just inside the pubic hair. She turned and picked up her panties, realising that she had also picked up the suspender belt that went with this set of lingerie. She had not worn this set since her husband had bought it for her. Perhaps now......? A playful smile flicked across her lips. She picked up the packet of tights and walked back to her dresser draw, dropping them back in she pulled out a packet of black silk stockings.