Folie a Deux, Episode 01

"Are you a size queen?" the interviewer asks with a chuckle.

"A little," Emily admits with a conspiratorial grin. "When I'm filled, I like to be full. I like to be touched all the way along. I like all the nerves to be stroked, and Bob could never do that. It was hardly his fault, of course, but I'd missed it. In fact, I had forgotten it, since it had been more than 20 years since I'd been filled in that way, but when Mike's penis jumped against me and grew, I knew he could fill me the way I wanted. My heart just leaped -- and then I immediately felt ashamed again, of course."

"One of her hands went down my back and into my shorts," Mike says. "She had to push them down a little bit in back to get her hand on my ass, but she did. That was the first hint of undressing either of us showed. And when I felt her hand on my bare ass cheek, I got absolutely rock hard, full mast against her, and she wiggled in more so she could feel it. And I could tell from her kiss that she was liking how it felt because she kissed me even harder and hungrier, which I didn't even think was possible. I'd always heard the term 'soul kiss' and I'd had some pretty good kisses with girls before, but man...nothing like that. At all. That was the first time I actually felt like our souls were kissing, not just our bodies. And god damn but it felt amazing."

"I did take things to the next level," Emily nods. "It wasn't my first instinct, but he'd begun the kiss and it wasn't fair to him to expect him to take every step, so I touched skin. And I must admit, as a dancer I'm a tremendous fan of very firm buttocks, and Mike's were...strong and firm. Definitely strong and firm, and it did feel very nice in my hand. I could feel how athletic he was, and how...powerful."

"She did it first," says Mike, "and after all, we were both going to end up naked anyway, so I slid my hands between us and unbuttoned her shorts. Mom doesn't dress sexy usually, but she does like to wear shorts that show off her legs, so she was wearing tight, short shorts. I undid the button, and after a moment she shifted her hips back to let me get them off. I unzipped them, put a hand on each hip, and pushed them down over her ass and let them drop."

"I was wearing a pair of high-cut panties that were quite modest," Emily says. "I do enjoy sexier underthings when the occasion is right, but I certainly hadn't anticipated being in this situation. They were simple things, gray with white trim, not the sort of underwear that could get anyone excited. They were practical, I suppose."

"When I felt mom's ass in my hand, just covered in the panties, the whole thing got a lot more real," Mike says. "I mean it had always been real, but...I had just taken off her shorts and now I had her ass in my hands. There's a difference between knowing you have to do something and understanding you have to do it, and when I got her shorts off, that was when I really understood that I was going to have to have sex, with my mother, right here, in front of people who'd kill us if we didn't do what they wanted. And, um, it kind of made me dizzy."

"I felt him wobble against me," says Emily. "His knees got weak, his grasp loosened, his tongue faltered against mine. For a moment I thought he was actually going to fall. I very, very much didn't want that. I knew he would have recovered and gone on with what we needed to do, but he'd have embarrassed himself in front of the barbarians who were forcing us to do this. I didn't want my boy to embarrass himself. If we had to do this, I wanted us to do it with heads held high. I wanted him to be proud of himself regardless of what we had to do, because none of this was our fault. And so I held him closer with the hand that was on his bottom and the hand on his back, pulled my head away from his, looked in his eyes, and said --"

Cut to Mike, who says, "'I love you and I am so proud of you. I couldn't ask for a finer man to be with today. Don't falter now. Let's show them how much we love each other.'"

"How did that make you feel?" asks the interviewer.

"Strong," Mike says. "And like I needed to be strong, because she was going to be strong and I didn't want to let her down. I didn't want to embarrass myself, yeah, but I didn't want to disappoint her even more."

"So what did you do?" the interviewer asks.

Mike grins a bit sheepishly and shrugs. "I took off her shirt."

"I was wearing a rather baggy, comfortable tee shirt," Emily says, "and I didn't even realize he was taking it off of me until I had to lift my arms to let him, and at that point it was simply an automatic reaction. He had it over my head in an instant and tossed it to the side quite casually, as though he was telling the assembled beasts that we weren't going to be defeated by them. That gesture was...oh, it was thrilling! I was so proud of him in that moment!"

"The way she smiled at me," Mike recalls fondly. "She just beamed, her eyes were sparkling, and she just looked up at me and said, 'Kiss me.' So I did."

"I was standing in my underwear and a pair of flats, and yet somehow I didn't feel exposed," Emily muses. "With Mike there, with his arms around me and his lips on mine, it didn't matter that we had a hostile audience. We may as well have been on a deserted island by ourselves for all I noticed anyone else once his arms went around me and his lips met mine. And oh, that kiss!"

"The kiss was getting better," Mike says. "I didn't think it could get better from where it was before, but we just attacked each other. It was like our tongues were fighting each other, but damn it was the best kiss I've ever had, to this day. I don't know why it was so good, or how, but I still think about that kiss these years later, even after everything that's happened."

Emily is seen again, looking thoughtful. "I think it was because we both needed it to be perfect. It was a haven we were creating, a place we could find shelter in each other and in the love we shared. We needed to have a way to avoid the hostility around us, because when we actually listened to what was being said around us, it was quite appalling."

"There was a lot of shouting," Mike confirms with a shrug. "The kind of thing you'd expect from a bunch of worthless lowlife assholes who were forcing a son to fuck his mother for their amusement to avoid being murdered. The women were especially nasty."

"What were they saying?" the interviewer asks.

In a tone of disbelief, Mike says, "They were really critical of mom's body, which was weird to me. Mom's body was perfect -- is perfect. She's a goddamned professional dancer, you know? And not a tit-shaking stripper bimbo, but an actual dancer on an actual stage. All these bitches were calling my mom a slut, a skank, a whore. They were really mean about her boobs. All those nasty bitches had these big, ridiculous-looking fake tits, these things that didn't even jiggle when they moved, or else they were really plain, but mom's boobs are gorgeous, just gorgeous. They're small but they weren't sagging at all then, they were these pert, sweet little points that would make any man want to suck them right into his mouth."

"Did you want to suck them into your mouth?"

Mike shrugs again. "I was starting to think about it, yeah."

"I didn't really register what they were saying," Emily says. "It was pointless, hostile vulgarity. It wasn't worth listening to. I was aware that most of it was being directed toward me, but there was no reason to pay attention to it. Well...there was one woman, an older woman by the sound of her voice, who kept shouting for me to fellate my son 'like a good mother,' which stands out in my memory for some reason. And no, the language she used was hardly so delicate."

"The voice I remember most was a guy who kept shouting how much I was going to like it," Mike recalls. "He kept saying over and over, 'You're gonna love your momma's tight little pussy, boy, you're gonna love that tight little pussy.' How he knew she had a tight little one, I have no idea, but he seemed pretty sure of it."

"I was mostly naked by that point, just wearing underwear and shoes, and Mike was still fully clothed," Emily says. "We both needed to be naked by the end, so I took off his shirt. I remember some in the crowd were rather upset that I didn't try to make it erotic. It was very much a 'mom' sort of action, simply taking his shirt by the shoulders and tugging it up over his head as though he were still five years old. It was positively matronly!"

"When she got my shirt off, she sort of stepped back and looked at me," Mike says. "Belly button to chest, up and down and up again. She'd seen me shirtless tons of times, I mean like all the time. I walk around the house without a shirt all the time in the summer. But this was the first time she'd ever looked at me like that."

"Like what?" the interviewer asks.

"Sexually," is his simply answer.

"I'd been with Mike very nearly every day of his life, from the moment he was born," Emily says. "I watched him grow from squalling little thing to a fine young man, but a mother doesn't really see the kind of young man her son is becoming. Not...sexually. But now it was sexual, and so I stepped back and looked at him in that new way."

"Did you like what you saw?" the interviewer asks.

Emily smiles hugely and dazzlingly. "Oh my yes. He was still young, of course, and he would fill out, but...good heavens, yes, I liked what I saw. Somehow, without my really being aware of it, that squalling little baby had become a strong, fit, and very handsome man. I couldn't have been prouder of the man he was becoming, and...and I realized that, if I were being forced to do this with my son, I could have had much worse luck as to how that son was turning out."

"It was just pride that you felt?"

"Nnnnooooo," Emily admits with some reluctance. "Not just pride. Before the kissing and the touching, it would only have been pride, but with that, and with what we had to do...no, not just pride."

"I could see it then, in her eyes," Mike says softly. "She wasn't seeing me as a son anymore, or at least not only as a son. She was seeing me as a sexual partner. It was...very strange to see that look in my mom's eyes. Let's just say it wasn't something I thought I'd see when I got up that morning."

"How were you looking at her?" the interviewer asks.

"I don't know. I know I was seeing her in a new way. I don't know how much of that came through. We started kissing again, and she put her hands on my stomach, right above my jeans. Just rested them there. If she'd have seen my eyes then, she'd definitely have seen some desire."

"We stepped together again and his mouth went right to my earlobe and neck," says Emily. "This time he was more...well, I don't want to say confident because he'd been quite confident before, but this time he was more...certain of himself. There was no hesitancy in the way he kissed me, and there was no hesitancy in the way I responded."

"Which was...?" the interviewer asks.

"I moaned. I think my exact words were..." she trails off in embarrassment.

"What?" probes the interviewer. "What did you say?"

Emily is blushing crimson now. "I mentioned before that I don't curse in normal conversation. However, during sex, I do...talk dirty. Very dirty. At least, I do when I'm enjoying myself."

"So you were enjoying what you were doing?"

"Mike is incredibly skilled with his mouth," Emily says, her face now edging into maroon. "Even if I had tried not to enjoy myself, his kisses and his touches would have made me excited, and I wasn't trying not to enjoy myself."

"So what did you say?" the interviewer repeats.

"I said...ahem. I said, 'Fuck, baby, that feels so good.'" The words sound awkward and stiff coming out of her mouth, and she is plainly extremely uncomfortable saying them.

Cut to Mike, who is looking flabbergasted. "'Fuck, baby.' She said, 'Fuck, baby.' I never dreamed my mom talked dirty, but Jesus, get her wound up and she's...inventive. And filthy."

"Did you like it?"

Mike's wolfish smile is all the answer needed.

"His shorts and my bra came off at the same time," Emily says. "With what he was doing to me with his mouth, I don't think I even noticed him undoing my bra. It seemed...well, I hesitate to say this, given that he's my son, but it felt perfectly natural then that he take my bra off, and I immediately pressed myself into him. The...the sensation of skin on skin is one of the greatest pleasures in life, and I wanted to feel my breasts against his chest. I wanted to feel my nipples hard against his skin. I wanted to feel his heat. I wanted to feel his heart beating against mine.

"I didn't care then that he was my son. This had gone too far to stop. Even had the bikers told us we didn't have to continue, we would have gone on. I know we would have. I was...wildly excited. I could smell myself, my own arousal." It's apparent from the flare of her nostrils and the sparkle in her eyes that recollection of this event is making excitement overcome embarrassment, and her voice has lost all hesitation. "I hadn't been this aroused since before I was with his father. I know how awful that sounds, but it's the plain truth. My whole body was singing. I wanted my son."

"My mom has some amazing fingers," Mike says earnestly. "Once she decided to get rid of my shorts, man, they were gone before I knew it, down around my ankles. I was wearing a pair of boxer-briefs, and they were...tented out in the front. When she ran her fingertips over my bulge, when I felt them through the fabric tracing my length from the crown to the root, my cock just jumped against her, just leaped. For a second I thought I was gonna come right there."

Emily is looking quite intense. "I ran my fingers over him and I felt his penis jump against my fingers. Even through the fabric I could feel that he was absolutely steel-hard, so much that it must have been uncomfortable in his underwear. It was so...powerful! I know I keep using that word to describe him, but that was really the most amazing thing to me, how powerful he had become. There was so much strength about him, so much poise, so much desire, and it was all being unleashed onto me. It was irresistible, and by then I wasn't thinking of resisting anyway. I could feel the head of his co-- his penis through the fabric, so big and flaring, the length and girth of the shaft, even the vein down the underside, and his testicles so big and full. At first I only felt it with my fingertips, but it made me so...hot, all over. It was absolutely delightful."

"I wanted to touch her boobs," Mike says, then chuckles. "I mean...I'm a guy, I wanted to touch her boobs! I could feel her nipples digging into my chest, and that's so sexy, but she was glued to me so I couldn't touch her tits. So I did the next best thing, and slipped my hands inside her panties from behind. Her ass filled my hands, her skin was soft but her ass was so firm and taut and hot. She was just radiating heat all over, and, like, all I could do was think...um..." He trails off into an uncomfortable laugh.

"What did you think?" asks the interviewer.

"About how good it would feel inside that heat. To be inside her, the sensations of...being inside her." He laughs again rather awkwardly and spreads his hands.

"Did you feel any guilt for having those sorts of thoughts?"

He shakes his head. "No. I mean, not then. Part of me was just trying to hold my shit together and act with some dignity, because that seemed important at the time. But she was doing her best to turn me on and I was doing my best to turn her on and we were both succeeding, so most of my thoughts were about how good things were feeling and how much better they were going to feel."

"So it was all very natural?"

"Well..." he muses, "as natural as it could be. I'm not saying there weren't weird, awkward moments where one or both of us was like, 'Damn, I can't believe this shit is actually happening,' because I know there were those moments for me. But natural in the sense of a guy and a girl trying to get each other horny and succeeding and then acting on that horniness -- yeah, what could be more natural than that? That's what keeps people around generation after generation, getting each other horny and fucking. And once that's going on and both people are really into it, you don't think too much."

"His hands on my bare skin felt amazing," says Emily in tight closeup, where here arousal is becoming more obvious. "His skin on mine everywhere we were touching just felt electric, as though there were a current passing between us, as though there were sparks leaping off of us. He just kept pushing my panties down and suddenly I just wanted to be free of them, to be naked for him. Wanting him to be naked for me. Wanting to feel his hand go between my legs and touch me, finger me, slide fingers in deep so he could feel how wet I was, how ready I was for his cock." In her growing excitement, the vulgarity suddenly comes naturally off her tongue and she seems not to notice she's no longer using clinical terms. "He took one side of the waistband and I took the other and we pushed them down to the ground. I was naked...and I heard a lot of noise from the crowd, but I did everything I could to block it out and make Mike my whole world."

"I wanted to see her, to take a good look, but she was kissing me hard and running her hands all over me," Mike says. "There were four hands trying to get my underwear off so it took a bit, but when they went down over my hips and my cock sort of leaped free, it leaped right into her hand. That was one of those awkward moments I mentioned, realizing that my mom was stroking my hardon in front of like fifty psycho assholes, but...look, a gorgeous, horny woman was stroking my hardon. I didn't concentrate long on anything but that."

"I loved how he felt in my hand," Emily says. "Right from the instant he filled my palm, I loved his cock. It was thick, hot, velvety soft over steel hard, the perfect length, a magnificent mushroom head..." She licks her lips with ill-disguised hunger. "Feeling that cock in my hand was absolute bliss. I knew instantly that it would feel magnificent in my mouth and in my pussy. I knew."

"The crowd was really getting into it now that we were naked," Mike says. "Nothing they said is worth repeating, but they were...cheering us on, shall we say? But I didn't want to hear that, I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to know they were there. I just wanted her and me. I wanted her to touch me, I wanted to touch her, I wanted to do everything. I really, really didn't want it to stop. And I wanted to touch her like she was touching me. So I did."

"Mmmm," Emily sighs happily. "Mike has very good hands. Big, strong, dexterous, very clever, very certain of what they're doing. He put his hand over me at first and just cupped me. I remember feeling so glad that finally he could feel how hot he'd made me, how wet he'd made me -- how much he'd made me want him. I wanted him to know that it was all right for us to keep going. He didn't need to worry about hurting me or doing anything I didn't want, because I wanted him inside me. I wanted him."

"Mom was dripping," Mike says, sounding slightly in awe of the fact, or perhaps that he had been the cause. "I don't think I'd ever felt anybody get that wet, that turned on, and all I could think was that it was going to be sweet and slick inside of her. And Jesus, I wanted to be there. I ran my fingers up and down her slit and her lips just parted like she was hungry for contact. I slipped my middle finger up inside of her, pushed it in, and it was so smooth, like silk inside. I know I groaned. And then she clamped down on my finger."

"I'm a dancer," Emily laughs. "I need to be in great shape all over. I'd been doing my Kegels."