Coming Home

Looking back, I'm not exactly sure when things progressed from innocent hugging to mortal sin, but all of a sudden I realized that my mom's tongue was in my mouth and that I was kissing her back passionately. She tasted of vodka and tears, and I found myself wondering if this could really be happening or if I was just dreaming it all. I pressed my mouth against hers hard, our tongues continuing to wrestle in our forbidden kiss. Dream or not, I knew I didn't want it to end.

Hell, I'd been fantasizing about my mom for years now--ever since my senior year of high school, shortly after my eighteenth birthday. In fact, one of my fondest sexual memories was of catching her sunbathing in a tiny string bikini one Saturday afternoon when she thought I wasn't home. I must've stood there staring through the window for ten minutes or more, cock raging hard, unable to make myself look away. From that day on, I couldn't look at her ass and not get hard. Of course, it wasn't just her ass--though I must say, even to this day, that her ass is a thing of beauty--but the rest of her body as well. Her tits aren't big, 34B, but they are extremely perky and fit well on her trim, athletic body. And her looks... well, I wouldn't say she could be a model, but she is definitely in the milf category. Nice features, long shiny, dark hair, sparkling eyes and an engaging smile.

Yeah, my mom was hot, and once I became aware of that fact there was no way to become unaware of it. What started as a first-time hard-on from seeing her in a sexy bikini, soon progressed into a fulltime obsession. My teenage hormones were out of control, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop myself from admiring my mom's body. My admiration quickly blossomed into fantasy, and inevitably I soon found myself jerking off to thoughts of her. At first it was just images I had stored in my head -- her ass in that bikini, glimpses down her shirt, her bending over -- but that too evolved. I soon began picturing us hugging and kissing, touching each other's bodies, and then more and more.

I should point out that my mom was not like any of my other friends' moms. My mom was still young, still with what was going on in the world. Because of her good looks, she had been somewhat of a wild child, drinking and partying at an early age. Which resulted in her being pregnant with me at an early age, she had me when she was only nineteen. I never met my father, don't even have one listed on my birth certificate, but I never really felt that I was lacking in any way. Growing up, Mom got married twice (I think mostly to try and provide that father figure she felt I needed), but neither lasted very long, the second ending when I was twelve years old. From then on it was just the two of us.

Which was fine by me. We lived together in a two bedroom apartment, and she worked full time in order to support us, so I was afforded a lot of free time without supervision and was often home by myself. That was the case one day when I arrived home from school a couple weeks after the bikini incident. Like usual she was still at work and wouldn't be home for at least a couple hours. I went into the bathroom to take a piss and happened to notice some clothes on the floor next to the hamper. I bent down and picked them up, and was ready to deposit them into the hamper when I realized that I was holding a pair of my mom's sexy, lacy panties. I'm not sure why, but just looking at them sent a tingle throughout my body, and before I knew it, I had raised them to my face. As I sniffed their aroma, I found myself welcomed into a whole new world of sexual bliss -- the incredible, wonderful smell of pussy.

The smell was incredible, and instantly I found myself fully aroused. I ran the silky fabric across my face, inhaling deeply over and over, pulling her scent deep into my nostrils. I had never encountered anything like this before, and was immediately lost in the sensation. Without ever making a conscious decision, I found myself with my pants down and jerking off furiously, all the while sniffing deeply of my mother's stained panties. Almost immediately I came like a freight-train, spraying all over the bathroom wall.

From then on, almost everyday when I came home from school, I would search through the clothes hamper until I found her panties she'd worn the previous day. Then I'd rub them across my face, centering the soiled cotton crotch directly against my nose, and inhale her womanly scent while jerking my cock. I'd imagine she was standing in front of me, and it really was her pussy (or ass as oftentimes as not) that I had my face buried in. Then I'd suck the dirty fabric into my mouth, trying to taste her, imagining in vain that it was her I was licking instead. In no time at all, I would be shooting come all over, my fantasy fulfilled for the day.

Afterward, I'd clean up and return the panties to where I'd found them, feeling guilty about jacking off to thoughts of my mom and telling myself that this was the last time, but then the next day I'd come home from school and eagerly do it all over again. Occasionally, I was rewarded with an overly odiferous pair, and these I'd sometimes take to my room and hide until I went to bed that night. Then I'd retrieve them and masturbate a couple of times while inhaling their smelliness and fantasizing about what I'd like to do to my mom.

This--me fantasizing about, and jerking off to, my mother's underwear--continued on rampantly for the rest of that school-year and summer. Then I went off to college and, for the most part, forgot about my mom's hot, sexy body and the many things I wanted to do to it. Every once in a while though, I would wake up with a huge erection and the last images of her and I locked in some kind of dirty, nasty sex still in my mind. These dreams seemed somehow more vivid and real than any other erotic dreams I had, and sometimes even brought me to orgasm. Still, even these faded after a couple years, and I went on with normal life, convinced that it had just been a phase and that I wasn't really a pervert.

Now, four years later, all those many incestuous thoughts and dreams were washing over me once again like a tidal wave. Only this time... well, this time maybe there was something I could do about it. It seems I really was a pervert after all.

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I had decided to come home for Christmas. It wasn't the first time I'd been back since leaving for college, but it was the first in a couple of years. Mom knew I was coming and picked me up at the airport. After dropping my bags off (she still lived in the same apartment and still kept a room for me, although it was now cluttered with a bunch of her stuff), she announced that she was taking me out for dinner.

We had a nice dinner, splitting a bottle of wine (which she drank most of, wine not being my thing), and caught up on things. After dinner, we stopped at the local bar and decided to have a couple drinks before returning home. I had drank with my mom a few times that final summer before college -- like I said, she was still young and remembered how things were when you were a teenager. She knew what college life was going to be like and was okay with me drinking as long as I was safe and responsible. That being said, I'd never really drank while around her. A couple beers at most. But now things were different, now I was completely legal and had been doing my share of partying over the past few years.

So we had a couple of drinks and a shot to celebrate (belatedly) my 21^st birthday, and then a couple more drinks and then another shot, all the while just talking about what's new. All of a sudden, I realized that I was getting pretty drunk and that I didn't want to get too drunk in front of Mom. Then looking at her, I saw that I needn't have worried--she was already quite drunker than I. It seems college does build up one's tolerance.

"Alright," I told her, "I think it's time for us to get going." I paid our bar tab, and decided that we'd better not drive. Luckily, our apartment was only a few blocks away, and walked the short distance without incident.

We probably should have just called it a night right then, but since we were already pretty tipsy, we decided to have another. Mom poured us a couple of vodka and Sprites, and we plopped down on the couch and continued to talk. I don't recall exactly how we got around to it (and it's not really important anyway), but ultimately Mom started crying and telling me how much she loved me, and how sorry she was that I didn't have a father growing up and such. So I hugged her and told her how much I loved her too, and how I didn't blame her or anything like that.

So there we sat, holding each other, telling each other how much we loved one another, both apologizing for nothing. Each 'I love you' was followed by a kiss, and each kiss was held just a little bit longer than the last, and like I said, I'm not sure who actually made the first move (although I really do believe it was her) but suddenly we were making out instead of just kissing.

As this realization dawned on me, it took all of about two seconds for my cock to pop to attention and all of my old fantasies to come rushing back into my head. I knew that this was wrong, and that I was drunk and she drunker, but I had no intention of stopping it now that it had started. In fact, I was sure that this would be the only chance to ever make my dreams become a reality, and I decided to do everything I could to see it through.

We were still kissing, our tongues dancing about each other's mouth, and I had my arms wrapped tight around her. Now, I began to slowly--very slowly--slide my hands down her back towards that perfect ass. Inch by inch, working towards my goal. Trying hard not to make my intent obvious. As I moved, I wondered if she was consciously aware of what I was up to and wanted me to keep going, or if she was completely oblivious in her drunkenness. Either way though she did nothing to stop me and I kept going little by little, moving ever lower.

I was excited and frightened at the same time. Excited to finally touch, to finally feel and caress the ass that I had lusted after for years. Frightened that my touch could snap her out of whatever zone she was in and put a quick end to this, not to mention the awkwardness that would result. But in the end, lust won out and my hands continued their descent.

And then, just like that, I was there. I was holding my mom's perfect, gorgeous ass in my hands! I cupped it softly, reverently, still afraid that this was going to end at any second. But it didn't. Not only did she not pull away, but she moaned into my mouth, her tongue probing even deeper, and pressed herself closer to me.

Her breasts were now smashed between us, and I was quite aware of the hardness of her nipples against my chest. Taking that for a good sign, I gave her ass a good firm squeeze. She moaned again, throaty, sexy, and bit down not-so-gently on my lip. The pain felt good.

I couldn't believe this was actually happening. This was fucking amazing! I had my mom's perfect, tight ass in my hands, her tongue in my mouth, and her tits pressed tight up against me. What more could a guy ask for? This was a dream come true. I didn't want it to ever end.

But at the same time, I wasn't content with just this. I did want more. So much more. There were so many things that I had thought of over the years -- so many dirty, naughty scenarios that I had jerked off to time and time again. So many visions, and dreams, and forbidden fantasies. That's what I wanted. I wanted to make them all come true.

As if reading my mind, my mom slid one hand from around my neck, slowly down my side and across my thigh, finally managing to slip it between us so that it was pressed firmly against the bulge in my pants. Once again, I couldn't believe it. She was not only letting me touch her, she was touching me back. Not just touching me, shit, she was cupping my cock! This was beyond amazing -- this was shit I'd dreamed about for years. This was fantasy become reality!

My stunned, drunken brain was on overload, shocked by this turn of events, unable to grasp the full ramifications of what was happening. My cock, however, was not. Even through my jeans, the touch of my mom's hand was electric, and it jumped in response. Already hard, but uncomfortably trapped pointing off to the left in the tight confines of my jeans, my cock stiffened even further, until it was throbbing almost painfully, trying its damnedest to break free.

"Oh my," Mom murmured, finally breaking our kiss, her eyelids fluttering open for the first time since it'd began.

Our eyes met.

Our bodies paused.

This was it. This was the make or break point. What I'd been afraid of. It had been easy to get lost in the moment, to let ourselves get slightly carried away by the rush of emotions and allow our inhibitions to float away on the wings of alcohol.

Easy with our eyes closed that is, lost in another world. Now we were looking at one another. Staring into each other's eyes. Now there was no hiding, no pretending it wasn't real. Whatever happened after this, if anything, would be the result of a conscious decision on our part. Sure, a drunk, alcohol-influenced decision, but a conscious decision nonetheless.

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, how beautiful she was. I wanted to grab her firmly, and rip off her clothes, and tell her how much I wanted her. I wanted to squeeze that ass, and push my tongue back in her mouth, and tell her just how long I've longed to do just that.

But I did none of that. She was the parent and I was the child. Sure, I was a man now. A full-grown man out on my own. An adult. But she was my mother, and in this, like everything else, I submitted to her.

So I just stared at her. And waited.

Her eyes were so green. Yet they were shifting around, unsteady, as if they were floating in the socket, the pupils large and slightly dilated. I could tell that she was quite intoxicated, but then again, so was I. And it seemed to me that beneath that glazed look, deep down inside, there lurked something deeper. A sparkle. A glint of lust. Of deep, dark yearning.

Or so I told myself.

It seemed like an eternity that we stared into each other's eyes. Weighing. Measuring. Coming to terms with the implications of what we were about to do. Our bodies and souls connecting on an inter-dimensional level.

In truth, it was seconds. Probably less than that. And then her tongue was once again probing my mouth, and her hands were working frantically to undo the front of my jeans. Her tongue was more forceful now. It swirled about my own, traced my teeth and gums, probed its way deep into my mouth. Searching, rooting, demanding that I give myself up to its exploration.

And I did. Heedlessly. I was hers to do with as she pleased, and I could only hope that she pleased to do a lot. My tongue twined with hers, my hands searched out and clung possessively to her ass, and I gave myself over to her desire.

A desire that matched mine, if not exceeded it. She sucked and slurped at my tongue, kissing me not just passionately but needfully, animalistically, her body pressing tight against mine, her breasts mashed pleasantly between us. Lewd moans were sounding deep in her throat, and I found myself entranced by the unexpected sounds. I had never had anyone kiss me so fervidly and with so much longing. That this was my mother groaning and mewling into my mouth made it that much more remarkable. Beyond description really.

Meanwhile, her hands were tearing recklessly at my zipper, all nimbleness lost in their urgency. After a short, fitful struggle, she finally managed to get it unzipped and hastily tugged my jeans part way down my hips--not bothering to go any farther than necessary to free my cock of its constrictive confines.

Immediately, frantically, she plunged her questing hand into the opening of my boxers, and after a little finagling, managed to extract my cock from its prison. As it sprang free, she captured it in her soft, delicate hand and broke our kiss with a gasp. "Oh god," she breathed, staring me in the eye, "So nice and big. My baby's all grown up, isn't he?"

I could feel the blood rushing to my face and was sure I was blushing furiously, but despite my embarrassment (I mean, really, who ever expects to hear something like that from their own mother?), I felt a strong surge of pride as well. My mom was holding my cock in her hand--and she was impressed. It wasn't like she was some inexperienced college girl either, she was a grown woman. One that had been around the block a time or two.

She gripped me firmly, her hand circling my shaft, her palm warm and moist. For a long moment she did nothing else, just held me like that. Like she was testing it out, seeing what she thought of it, making sure that it was the right fit. Then, (apparently I passed inspection) she began to slowly stroke me up and down.

Her fingers felt magical, and all I could do was moan lightly as she continued fondling me. She watched me as she did this, her eyes locked to mine, savoring the reactions that her gentle touch was causing. I noticed that she was breathing heavily, nearly panting in her desire, and realized for the first time, that maybe she wanted this to happen as much as I did.

Her nimble fingers kept working me over, finding all of my pleasure points, stroking me to even greater hardness if that was possible. I continued to stare into her eyes, moaning uncontrollably, my mind almost unable to cope with what was happening. There was no way that I was getting a hand job from my mom right here in her living room.

Except that I was! The dream too impossible to come true...

... was coming true!

"Do you like that?" she whispered, her hand sliding up my shaft to the tip, smearing the pre-cum copiously leaking from there all around her palm, and then sliding it back down, now slick and slippery. I nodded dumbly, still not trusting myself to speak. Still thinking that this might be a dream and any wrong move could cause it to burst apart like a pin to a bubble. If it were to end now--when I was this close to my lifelong dream--I think I'd go insane.

My mom didn't seem to be concerned about my lack of speech though. She grinned at me naughtily (naughtily? my mom? I didn't even know she could do that) and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "You should love this then," she murmured, her breath against my skin causing me to shiver in delight. Then she started to slowly sink downward.

"No!" I called out, wondering even as the word left my mouth what in the world would possess me to say such a stupid thing. At the same time, I reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, preventing her from falling to her knees.

She was looking at me curiously, somewhat shocked even, as I guided her fully back to her feet, and I can't say as I blamed her. She had been just about ready to drop to her knees and give me what any man wants more than anything else in the world... and I had stopped her. One of the things that I had dreamed of almost nightly for more years than I cared to remember, and I'd had the stupidity to stop it before it started.

Honestly, I myself was shocked by my behavior as well. The first word I had said to her since this whole thing had started, and it was 'no'. In response to a blow-job. I must be losing my freaking mind. Seriously-- if I had just fucked this up...

"Not yet," I amended softly, trying to ease her mind that she had done something wrong. Trying hard not to ruin the atmosphere that had been so carefully set. My voice sounded calmer and cooler than I really was as I leaned in close to her ear. "Ladies first," I told her, grabbing hold of her shirt and pulling it gently up over her head.