Failure to Launch

Fair warning! This story contains incest, bisexuality, Both male and female anal sex, a transgender protagonist, and probably several other taboos I've missed! If any of these causes your belly to roil before vomiting, offend your sensibilities, or just piss you off, please move on! There are many great authors with exciting stories on Literotica.

That being said, I invoke the usual disclaimer about everyone involved in any sexual activity being at least 18 years old.

For those few readers who are left, this story will have at least two, possibly three parts. I'm toying with an illustrated chapter but we'll see.

Part 01

Chapter 01

Jamaal Andersen awoke to the exquisite feeling of a warm mouth giving him an expert blowjob. The tongue was almost prehensile, encircling his shaft while the mouth bobbed up and down, applying tight, even pressure. He groaned, his hips pumping, fucking her mouth as she sucked. A finger penetrating his anus caused him to gasp.

"Fuck!" His legs popped into the air, allowing better access.

"Good morning, baby!" Clotilde Andersen pulled her son's cock from her mouth, stroking it while massaging his prostate gland.

"Jesus Christ, Momma!"

"Does momma's baby like being woke up this way?"

She leaned forward, her face framed by his thighs and resumed sucking his cock.

"I don't know what I like best from you in the morning, fucking or getting a blowjob and/or my ass fingered!" Jamaal grasped his mother's head, lost in their morning ritual.

"Hurry and cum for momma, baby! I'm running late for work!"

"Take off! Let's fuck and suck all day!"

Jamaal was close to cumming. His anus was flexing, clenching around his mother's finger. He had the tingle deep in his balls. Usually, he could control his orgasm; however, he never lasted long when Clotilde simultaneously sucked his cock and massaged his prostate.

"Today is my long day. I can't...! OH," Clotilde exclaimed as her son exploded in her mouth, the first spurt filling her mouth and squirting out of the corners. She gulped the rest of his torrent, filling her belly with her son's sperm while sucking him dry.

Jamaal collapsed, his arms spread in a Jesus on the cross pose while his mother rocked back on her heels. Clotilde smiled at her spent son while wiping his cum from her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Momma, your morning blowjobs are epic!" He sat up on the side of the bed as his mother as she stood and stretched.

"We aim to please," Clotilde laughed, "now you fix breakfast while I shower and dress."

"Oh! You're still hungry after getting a belly full of cum?"

Clotilde pulled her son's head to her belly, stroking it as she did. "Your cum in my belly is satisfying but not filling! Now git!"

She nimbly stepped back when he tried to kiss her Mons. "None of that, Mister!"

"Hey, you started it! But okay," Jamaal chuckled, standing. "You shower, and I'll fix breakfast."

He stood and stretched, his cock swinging between his legs like an elephant's trunk. He was 30 years old, biracial, and a robust 6' 2", 220-pound drilling rig roughneck, laid off due to a downturn in oil prices.

Clotilde eyed her son. How had it come to this? How had this gorgeous example of African American manhood gone from a squalling infant to a beloved son to her lover?

"Shower with me," She embraced him, reveling in the feel of his naked body against hers.

"No! You're the one who said you were running late. Besides, we'll end up fucking in the shower like we did yesterday, and you'll be late for work!"

"Spoilsport! A gentleman doesn't throw a lady's words back at her!"

She stuck her tongue out at him and walked to the shower, her 34G breasts sitting on her chest like pink teardrops, her raisin-like nipples hard, and her broad behind jiggling. At 46, with a penchant for decadent desserts and an aversion to exercise, she was a well-padded 5' 5" and north of 200 pounds. Her deceased African American husband used to call her his Big Booty Baby. Her dirty blond hair was greying now, but her eyes were still their brilliant sky blue.

A brief cloud of sadness passed over her, darkening her mood. Jamaal was her rock during her husband's long unsuccessful fight with cancer. She couldn't have done without him there.

Before his father got sick, Jamaal lived on a houseboat in Vermilion Parish, Louisiana, working 14 days on and 14 days off on an oil rig. He spent his off time drinking and whoring up and down the Gulf Coast. When his father got sick, he sold his houseboat, moved back into his old basement apartment, and spent his off time helping his mother care for his father.

It was during those traumatic times while they clung to each other for emotional support that familial love became sexual. There was no sudden explosion of passion, just a gradual acceptance that they meant more to each other than mother and son.

It began after the funeral.

Exhausted and emotionally drained, Clotilde sat on the side of her marriage bed, wearing a matching black half slip, lacey bra, thigh high stockings, and sensible Cuban heel pumps. The black dress she bought for the services lay crumpled on the bed.

Jamaal was in his stocking feet standing at her bedroom door wearing a grey dress shirt with the blue tie undone, hanging loose around his neck, and black dress pants.

"Momma, you get some sleep. There are some things we need to do with the insurance, but they can wait a few days."

"Good! I can't do another thing! I'm drained." She raised her behind and pushed her slip down while sitting, kicked off her shoes, and began rolling her stockings down. The contrast of the black widow's weeds against her alabaster skin was startling.

"WHOA," Jamaal said, chuckling. "I didn't expect a striptease."

At 43, Clotilde was a handsome woman. The extra pounds gave her a curvaceous figure

"Oh! I'm sorry, baby! I'm so used to you being here, I forgot!"

Clotilde sat with her legs parted with one stocking on, her lace panties pulled tight to her Mons, and wisps of hair poking out of the leg opening.

"You mean, I'm part of the furniture," he chuckled, trying to not look between his mother's legs but failing.

"You know I don't mean that!" She struggled to her feet, walked over and embraced him, her head on his chest. He returned her hug, his strong arms enveloping her, his work-roughened hands stroking the bare skin between her bra and panties.

"Mmm! You used your father's aftershave."

To Clotilde, he smelled like his father but different. His natural aroma added a subtle difference to the aftershave, making it distinctively his. Clotilde experienced a moment of otherness. His scent caused her to react as she used to with his father, pressing her sex to his thigh. She broke the hug when she felt her son's body stiffen and his cock hardening against her thigh.

"Why don't you get dressed and I'll fix us a drink. We could use one to relax." Wow! What was that about, he thought.

Later Jamaal, wearing boxers and a t-shirt, sat on the sofa, his second drink in his hand, and his mother's head in his lap. One hand stroked her thigh as she also sipped her second drink.

"Your father and I used to sit here, have a drink, and talk."

After removing her widow's weeds and taking a shower, Clotilde wore her ratty old silk robe and nothing else. During her husband's long decline, she dressed in whatever was comfortable while she tended to him.

When Jamaal moved home, she continued her casual dress to his distraction. It took a while for him to become accustomed to his conservative mother parading around in panties and bra or with one of his father's shirts on and nothing else.

Her robe rode up as she adjusted her position on his lap. She wasn't surprised to feel the bulge in Jamaal's shorts.

"You need to get out more," she laughed.

"Hey! It's your fault, walking around here like the centerfold in a girly magazine."

"I have NEVER been girly magazine material'" she laughed. "I'm all bumpy and lumpy instead of sleek and sexy!"

"Like the old blues song says, you're built for comfort, not for speed!"

"Your father used to say the same thing," Clotilde sniffled, recalling her dead husband while embracing her son with her arms around his waist and her head on his belly. The rigid pole of Jamaal's cock pressed against her cheek.

"Hey! That weapon is too close to my mouth! Move it unless you're trying to give me a hint."

"Momma! That's outrageous!" His mother's robe rode up, exposing her ass. He snatched the hem down. "Cover yourself before I think you're trying to seduce me."

"What makes you think I'm not!"

Jamaal was glad to see her sassiness returning, although the conversation was more sexual then he was comfortable with. He smacked her butt, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing in the room.

"OUCH! That hurt! Next thing," you'll want to tie me up and ravish me!"

"Let me up," he said, suddenly uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. His mother's robe fell open when he pushed her off his lap, exposing her hairy pussy.

Clotilde lay on her back, her head on Jamaal's legs, with her legs spread, one foot on the floor and the other on the couch. The air was thick with the sexual implications of their conversation.

Clotilde squeezed her son's hard cock through his boxers while he stroked her bare ass, one finger sliding between her ass cheeks.

Clotilde sat up. The stresses of the past several months were easing. The suppressed sexual tension that had developed was released. Many nights they fell asleep on this very couch, exhausted from caring for her husband, his father.

They sometimes woke up on the couch with him clutching her breast or her grinding against his morning wood. Their intimacy embarrassed them, and they charged it off to stress. The stress was gone now; they were left to deal with a strong physical attraction.

"I had better go to bed!"

"Me too!"

They stood and embraced. Clotilde's robe fell open again. Her son pulled it up, cupped her ass and pulled her to him. She gave herself up to the moment. She needed to be held, to hear him say everything would be alright.

They hungrily kissed while dry humping. Clotilde ground her pussy on his thigh while his finger pressed against her anus.

"We'd better stop," she said, pushing away. "We 're stressed and might do something we'll regret in the morning."

"I know! I know!" Jamaal kissed the top of her head, pushed her back to arm's length. "Besides, I like my women shaved!"

"WHAT?" So much for the intimate moment," Clotilde giggled, " besides, your father liked me hairy!"

She pulled away and started up the hall to her bedroom. Just before she entered, she raised her robe and mooned her son.

"MOMMA!"

"Good night, baby!"

"Good night, momma!" Jamaal shook his head as he went downstairs to his basement bedroom. What the fuck just happened? We came as close to fucking as a couple can without doing it! He got in his bed and promptly fell asleep, succumbing to fatigue.

Clotilde lay naked in her bed, touching herself. What is going on with me? I damn near fucked my son. If he had rolled me on my back, my legs would have popped open like they were on springs.

She writhed, her finger sinking into her hole, her hips pumping. It was more than a year since she was intimate with Jamaal's father. I should have pulled his cock out and sucked it. No man can resist a blowjob. His father loved me sucking his cock.

Clotilde sat up in bed. "Fuck it," she said to the empty room. She got out of bed and walked nude through the house to the stairs leading to the basement. She felt her way down the dark stairs. Street lights coming in the basement window illuminated her son sound asleep in his bed.

She paused at the foot of the bed. Asleep, he looked like the mischievous toddler, the truculent teenager, and her grown son all rolled into one. She sat on the side of the bed, fumbled, getting his cock through the slit in his shorts, then took him in her mouth. Even soft, he was bigger than his father.

He groaned, and she smiled around his cock, feeling him grow in her mouth. Surprise, she thought. She stroked his shaft with one hand while massaging his balls with the other.

Jamaal was dreaming, recalling the blowjobs he got and had given. In that twilight zone between fully awake and being asleep, he reached for his cock and hit his mother's head.

"What the fuck?" he looked down to see his mother smiling around his cock. "Momma! What the hell...! For the first time since he was a teenager practicing edging with his buddy, Clyde, he came before he wanted, flooding his mother's mouth with cum.

"WOW," she exclaimed, cum running out of the corners of her mouth and dribbling down her neck. "that was a lot of jizz!"

Jamaal tried to sit up. "Momma, what the hell are you doing?"

Clotilde pushed him in his chest and straddled him. She grasped his semi-hard cock and stuffed it in her.

"Fucking my son," she said, "I'll probably burn in hell for it, but I want to know how you feel in me!"

He hardened as she rocked on his tool. "Are you okay with this," she asked, staring intently at him?

"The time to ask that was before you blew me and sat on my cock." He slapped her butt, eliciting a squeal, then grabbed her hips and began bouncing her up and down.

"I just don't know what came over me," she stammered, leaning back and thrusting hard.

"I'm not complaining! I'm just surprised." He raised himself on his elbows and rubbed her hood. "like that?"

"Yes! Yes! Oh, God! Yes!"Her big jugs flopped wildly. His cock slipped out of her, and he pushed it back in, causing her pussy to fart.

Clotilde started laughing uncontrollably, shocking Jamaal. She fell forward with his cock still in her, still laughing. Her son joined her, laughing.

"What so funny," he asked?

"When we started fucking, it was like a scene from one of those porn movies your father and I used to watch. The woman wakes the man up with a blowjob, they fuck to the music playing, then they cum together in slow motion with the music rising to a crescendo. I never heard a pussy fart in those movies!"

"You are so silly!"

"Yes! But I'm horny too. Fuck your mother! Get her off! We'll deal with the guilt tomorrow!"

They fucked all night, changing positions often. Jamaal learned his mother was multiorgasmic; she discovered he could hold off cumming as long as he wanted.

In the morning, they were awkward with each other, unsure of what their new relationship meant. What is the social protocol after a mother and son fuck? There are no How To books explaining what a mother says to her son after riding his cock all night screaming obscenities, then having him call you mom in the morning.

They decided their relationship was more like an open marriage, with either of them able to date others. It was Clotilde's idea. She understood that while she would always be his mother, the time might come when they needed to end their sexual relationship. She didn't want to lose a son and a lover simultaneously. She wanted him to see other women and eventually give her grandchildren.

That was three years ago. Now Clotilde couldn't imagine him not being in her bed or her pussy. She discovered Jamaal had a penchant for kinky sex, which added an unexpected spice to their sexual exploits she never experienced with her husband.

Jamaal expanded her sexual vistas introducing Clotilde to same room sex, partner swapping, and eventually swinging. They joined and regularly attended swingers clubs, always concealing their relationship. Occasionally, they went to one of the adult book stores in San Francisco, rented a booth, and shared a cock through a glory hole.

Initially, it was awkward for Clotilde to have her son watch her fucking or eating pussy, both things she came to love doing. However, it deepened the love and trust between them. Sharing a cock or pussy with her son opened up new and exciting vistas for her.

Chapter 02

Jamaal stood in the bathroom doorway, watching his mother wash her hair. His love for her was deep and unconditional. They were like a married couple with the commiserate ups and downs in their relationship but an abiding faith in each other. They learned to talk to each other, working out their issues as married couples should. Overlaying that intimacy was the unconditional love of a mother and son.

"You keep ogling me like that, and I ain't going nowhere!" Clotilde stood under the hot water streaming through her cleavage like water through a deep canyon, rinsing the soap from her hair.

"Is that invitation for a shower still open?"

"Baby, your momma is open for anything you want to do!"

Jamaal pushed his boxers off and entered the shower. They stood under the water, kissing and hugging with him squeezing his mother's ass.

"Um...we have to hurry," Clotilde said breathlessly, turning and leaning against the shower door, "I have to get to work!"

"Momma, I never hurry when we fuck, I want it to last, for us to experience each second together." He positioned his cock at her entrance and slid in slowly, savoring the familiar feel of her pussy.

"Oh my lord, that feels good!" She thrust back, burying his tool in her hole. She reflected that what once seemed unthinkable now seemed natural. She never imagined a time in her life where her son was her lover. Now she couldn't imagine him not being her lover.

" Momma, your pussy is amazing!" He fucked her slowly, sinking his dick in her pussy until his balls slapped her ass then back out until just her meaty pussy lips covered his cockhead.

"The things you say to your mother," Clotilde moaned, the water streaming over them, "next you'll be calling me your whore or your slut!"

"You are my whore, my mommy slut, and the best piece of ass I ever had!" Jamaal gripped her hips, slamming her back onto his tool. The shower stall echoed with the sound of the water, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the groans of the lovers.

"Yes, baby, yes! Fuck your momma, fuck her like the slut she is!"

"I can feel your pussy spasming, momma. You're cumming!"

"What do you expect when you stick that big black cock in me? Fuck! Oh, fuck!"

Clotilde's orgasm started in her pussy, permeated her body, and moved into her mind, reinforcing her love for her son. The union of maternal and sexual love was so complete that she could no longer separate them. Fucking Jamaal was just as natural as when she gave birth to him.

Years of edging taught Jamaal how to hold off cumming. He always waited until his mother came before he did.

"Oh my God! I feel you cumming, baby! You're filling me with your seed!"

"You like it when we cum together," he asked through gritted teeth," you like feeling my cum squirt in your cunt?"

"That's right! Talk dirty to your momma! Talk about her cunt, her hole, her pussy!"

Clotilde's legs would no longer support her. She slid down the glass shower door to her knees, her son following her down, still cumming. They knelt on the floor, Jamaal's arms around his mother, cupping her breasts.

"The water is getting cold!"

"Woman, how can you worry about cold water after a hot fuck like that!"

"Hot fuck or not, the water is freezing! Get up."

Chuckling, Jamaal stood and helped his mother to her feet. He slapped her on her ass as she exited the shower.

"Keep that up, and I'll report you for senior abuse," she said, rubbing her behind.

"You're impossible!" He hugged her and kissed the top of her head.

"You did it! I was a 43-year-old widow trying to get on with her life. You took advantage of me in a weak moment, and now here I am! My son's slut!"

"I took advantage of you," he exclaimed! "Three years ago, I woke up downstairs with my cock in your mouth!"