I was an Incest Fantasy Addict Ch. 01byPanzerFeck©
My name is Lucy and I am a 46 year old single mother, never married. I'm a short 5'2" grey eyed brunette, with quite an athletic body (I go running every day), but just enough of a handful up front and from behind.
I have a 28 year old son, who moved back home two years ago and stayed here after the divorce ending his three year long marriage also cost him his job with his ex-wife's mother's company. He never got back on his feet quite the same and now that he's trying to contend with much lower pay, we decided that he could just stay here and stop his mother from being so lonely.
It's cheaper for the both of us and leaves us with a little more in pocket. Plus, I'd do anything for him. God knows having a C-section just to have him earned me the right to keep him if I want to. And I already do pretty much anything for him but we'll get to that.
In the five years since Ed first moved in with then-girlfriend/destined to become ex-wife, Gina, life was lonely and boring. I found myself with little to no company outside of work. Being that I wasn't new to the world, yes I never gave up on trying to get myself a boyfriend, if not a genuine and un-creepy date once in a while.
It was rare to even find a man who was even interested in being a friend, which is the simple way I go about finding date and boyfriend material. But of course I was at the age beyond which everyone was already married, if not single for reasons that made me wonder. Maybe others felt the same about me, who knows, but the long and short of it was that I got stuck with vibrators instead.
As the women amongst you know, vibrators may not come with drama and dishonesty - true - but they also lack the excitement. For years that excitement was fuelled by porn and erotica. Gradually everything became "vanilla". I wasn't into anal, which is, like, 60% of all porn, and I wasn't into gay or bi or shemale stuff either. It was after I went through a depressed period, not being affected by anything at all, and losing my libido, that I happened upon some darker stuff.
And that brings us to how four years ago I started to get into taboo erotica, forbidden relations, and specifically mother and son incest sex fantasies.
At first it began with reading the stories on Literotica. Everything I ever read or watched was on the Internet. My son's old laptop became my best friend and my social life, and my excuse for a sex life. But when I tried to find other sites like Lit, nothing else quite hit the spot!
Naturally, the way social media and the government like to scare you into thinking that somebody is always checking your search history from some dark, seedy CIA office cubical, that was the only thing that made me scared and reluctant to truly let loose with this guilty little pleasure.
I hadn't come as hard as I did with a decently written sex fantasy like I did on this site. It was new, dark, exciting. I couldn't believe that I was into this stuff, but sometimes the way such a story will suck you in, teasing your curiosity and sometimes just building and building on chemistry and suspense, it slowly won me over. Within half a year I'd exhausted my favourite stories. I needed more. And I needed more than erotic fiction. I needed something more real, if not visual.
After getting in touch with a few of my favourite writers there I found out what their influences were and where they would go to find inspiration. Well the dam broke. It just so happened that this dirty little fantasy of mine wasn't such a secret. There were pages hidden in the annals of social media sites devoted to the filthy incest, and sometimes filled with real life instances of family who were deep into the habit (and each other).
Tumblr was an apocalyptic mushroom cloud of incest and mother on son sex. Reddit had endless groups devoted to it. More and more porn sites were starting to test the waters with their users. Incest was already by then a budding alternate niche. Granted, none of it was real, but that didn't stop it from being a lot of fun.
One of my favourite performers, for the record, has to be Rachel Steele AKA The Red MILF. We don't look alike, but we are similar. She has a bit more meat on her bones and slightly bigger tits. And I wear my hair in a ponytail most of the time, I do look younger naturally, and you're more likely to see me in black lycra leggings and a tee than silk gowns and lingerie.
I absolutely love her longer episodes; the ones where her son cums inside her when the condom breaks, so they just carry on having sex bareback in every other position to make it count. Those ones excited me the most. Because Ed was married and living the life elsewhere, it was around that point when I started to fantasise for myself, about me and him being in the same situation. Nothing fired me up quite like that, ever!
I fucked myself rigid thinking up all these different scenarios in my mind, but it was getting ridiculous. I was getting home at six, being in bed for nine, then finally falling asleep exhausted at between one and two in the morning. And yet I needed more...
I became bolder, searching Google for anything I could get my hands on, but nothing. I signed up to a porn site and it was there that I was given a link to a place called Motherless. I wasn't prepared for the sheer amount of incest floating around that website.
Within just over a year of getting into this new kink, I was a shameless incest addict, caring about nothing but mothers fucking with their sons, and I wondered; "honestly, what the fuck is my life anyway?"
I now had memberships to every major incest friendly site on the internet. I was joining groups just to read from mothers and sons who were trying to seduce each other and start sexual relationships with each other. I was a jaded whore if I sensed the slightest hint of bullshit. I needed the real thing.
I wasn't ready for the night Ed showed up on our doorstep with an overnight bag and the most tragic, defeated look on his face.
It took eight months for Ed to break out of his depression when the company kicked him like a bad habit. Mark my words, when we'd gone the polite and respectful way about trying to salvage something, I made sure that the horrid cunts feared my name. It wasn't fair. Ed's wife was cheating on him, all along, and he was the bad habit?
He was dosed up on antidepressants and sleeping pills a lot of the time, and on top of that, diazepam for his anxiety, which was the most scared I'd ever been for him in his life. I was worried however about the time he was spending at home, and often locked away in his room for hours at a time.
And apart from the looking after him, trying to keep him in good spirits, I was suffering myself from my sudden loss of privacy. Even if I had any, a lot of the time he would borrow the laptop (his anyway) and stay up all night talking to his friends online. That's what I thought anyway. Even if he watched a lot of porn, who was I to judge?
1.)I didn't realise just how relaxed I'd gotten, to the point where I failed to see what was actually going on.
2.)I totally failed to erase the browsing history, and it didn't occur to me that Ed might have seen every single dirty little secret that I thought was safe with me. That was until...
One day Ed asked me to drive him to PC World. Things were looking a bit brighter, he was getting paid again, and he wanted to buy himself a new laptop. When we were back at the house later, he brought me the old laptop and handed it over with a question that didn't have alarm bells ringing until when I was relaxed in bed and frigging off to some wholesome family inbreeding - a story about a boy trying to help his mother get pregnant after his dad's balls dried up...
'Mom, what's this Literotica site I keep seeing on your laptop?' he asked.
'What?' I asked defensively. 'Your mother likes the same stuff you boys do, you know.'
'Huh,' he shrugged, gave me one thoughtful sideways glance and then went back to his room to set up his new device.
And so that night, while I was filling myself in and getting off to the idea of this young man shooting his spunk into his mother and getting her pregnant when it hits me. The only way Ed was going to know about Literotica is if he saw the address bar pop up and he specifically saw the story title and the genre next to it.
The shame I felt - my cheeks burnt so hot that I could have turned off the bedside lamp and glowed in the dark. The only way around this was if I simply failed to ask, or to care what he saw. But what of the other sites? If he was looking for porn and finding it already in the bookmarks and search bar pop-ups, he'd have surely investigated and found nothing but incest upon incest...
And all of it mother and son incest porn!
That was the beginning of my downfall. The only thing that saved me from completely dying of embarrassment was one little fault in the way he reacted to my answer that day. He shrugged it off and said not another word, but he hadn't acted strange at all for the rest of that day either.
I could try to just get along without a trip-up and I might have if it wasn't for those pesky slips!
You know the ones. Freudian slips. Sometimes they're just mistakes. Sometimes you don't have to be thinking of a word and you'll say something wrong. But I knew that I was slipping up and it was killing me inside, one fuckup at a time.
Through the day, if he was at home, Ed would leave his bedroom door open. He wasn't always choking the chicken, I'm sure. That next day, which was a Saturday, he was at home, sleeping off the work week.
I let him, seeing as he could use all the rest he could get to come back from his depression. When he started moving around, I went into his room with the vacuum cleaner. I was about to kick him out so I could clean up, when I noticed a lovely aroma wafting through the air. I was no stranger to incense sticks. I used to use them too back in my stoner days.
Pleasantly surprised, I wished him a good morning and, spotting the incense stick pouring smoke up to the ceiling, I breathed in deeply and said, 'is that sandalwood?'
'I don't know,' he said, 'it had some weird novelty name like that-
I said, 'I love the smell of incest... ... ... ...'
Utterly horrified, I could afford not a grimace and not a single suspect move. I screamed and died inside as I continued to fuss about his room, with a picture perfect smile. But I daren't look at him. I was simply aware of the last look on his face. Then he chuckled. I died inside, reaching for the power switch to the vacuum.
'Something on your mind, mom-
Saved by the hoover...
Sadly, that was just the beginning. Twenty minutes later and the first floor was done and dusted, all but for the bathroom. I had no idea Ed had gone for a shower - Ed who now no longer locked bathroom doors at home for privacy like he used to. Because it was the middle of the day, he didn't even have the light on. So as I finished my own bedroom and headed for the bathroom to start hosing down the porcelain, I whacked open the door to head straight in. What did I find?
Not only was Ed butt naked and streaming with water like some perfume commercial porn model, he had the most absurd erection going on. By the time he could reach for a towel, which in the end I had to hand him, I'd more than just seen everything, I'd failed to take my eyes off his precious specimen. It seemed like an awfully long time.
But I'd fantasised about this boy, not that he will have known about it. And it was completely harmless, it hurt nobody. Nobody was abused in the making of that glorious orgasm, thinking about him fucking his mother deep and making her drench his balls in come. Nobody but me by self-infliction...
Freudian slip followed slight misfortune, and vice versa, for the duration of that day and the next. It was becoming so much of a distraction that I couldn't seem to put a foot right. That ended in the literal sense when clearing out the shed for me, Ed had an accident, caused an avalanche of shit, which ended with the handlebars of his old BMX bike swinging right into his dick and knocking the wind right out of him.
He wasn't seriously hurt but he made a huge fuss out of it, as would anybody I suppose. The size of his cock at full mast, from what I made out earlier, it would have been pretty hard to hit anything that wasn't vital.
Ed ended up on the couch, rage-quitting and leaving the shed and yard in a state of disarray. I told him to just relax and stop crying about it, fetched him a couple of painkillers and a glass of water. When I went to hand it to him, I slipped in both senses, or tripped rather.
'Here,' I said, handing him the water, with the pills in the other hand, 'let mommy make it wetter-
Suddenly, whoops, I lost my footing and everything went up in the air, dousing Ed's crotch in cold water.
LET MOMMY MAKE IT WETTER!! GEDDIT???
'Jesus Christ, mom, what has gotten into you,' he raised his voice to a despairing pitch.
'I'm sorry Ed, it was an accident,' I defensively retorted. 'I'll go get you a towel for your cock...'
'Mom, do you even hear yourself?' he shouted, gesticulating wildly. 'Do you see yourself?'
'What are you talking about?'
'You've mentioned, hinted, or casually suggested incest several times over the past two days alone. You can't put a foot right because you're always looking at my crotch since you walked in on me in the bathroom yesterday...'
'Buhh,' was my argument. 'Buhh,' and, 'Whuu,' and 'Blehh,' and finally, 'no I'm not,' and for some reason I was laughing, and so was Ed.
'Bullshit!' he yelled, trying to remain serious. 'Look, I didn't want to say anything, but it's obvious that I have to.'
'Please don't,' I cried through the laughter, knowing that he knew. I'd died of shame enough already.
'Mom, I know you're all about the incest porn, and it's flattering that it just happens to be all about the moms and the sons. Everybody enjoys a little bit of that once in a while, but not as shamelessly as you. And that's still fine, but...'
'But what?' I asked meekly.
'But you got dick on the mind and it's written all over your face,' he claimed.
'I do not have dick written on my face,' I screamed. 'There are no cocks on my face whatsoever!'
To this day, neither of us remembers anything in between that statement and the moment we finally picked ourselves off the floor, having laughed ourselves unconscious. I swear!
So what can a mother say after that? The gig was up. He knew my secrets and he had known them for months. I wondered, as I mildly continued to die of shame, what he must think of his mother, although he claimed that everybody was into it. Either I didn't buy it or I didn't want to. Maybe he was trying to save me the embarrassment but it didn't work 100%.
All the while I was still wary of his habits, and yet I didn't have the password to his laptop, so I couldn't prove anything. However if he took it so well, then maybe it was his little kink too. Maybe I'd gotten him into it, when he was borrowing my laptop all that time after he first came back. Maybe he was into it all along, and therefore a lot more casual about it than I was. I did wonder.
On Monday morning I went out for my early run, decked out in my compression tights as usual. I hit the backstreets of the suburbs. Smoother roads there. The bicycle path and park were filling up a lot more with runners and stragglers lately. I never felt safe around people at around 6am, even if they did appear to be doing the same as me. Plus, half the attraction of running to me was leaving people behind. I didn't want the attention or the competition.
I got back home at quarter to seven, crept in so that I didn't wake Ed, kicked off my trainers and headed back to my bedroom for a fresh change of clothes. I was most of the way there when I noticed that Ed's bedroom door was open. Even if he'd been to the bathroom in my absence, he would usually close it behind him again, so I was left wondering.
I don't know why I crept, I really had no reason to. I crept up to his door and quickly peeked in. Ed's bed faced away from the door, so he couldn't see me. Thank God, because once I caught an eyeful of him masturbating that glorious cock, with one lube-drenched hand, my knees nearly buckled underneath me.
I couldn't turn away. I touched myself. I had an instant case of lady-wood, and I was tingling, throbbing, getting hot and slippery in the place I once pushed him from all those years ago. What the hell was with me? Did I have no shame?
I heard him moan, his hand working slickly, working the foreskin back and polishing his pink fireman's helmet. God, just imagine this was one of my stories. I walk in on him masturbating and sit at the side of his bed...
'Don't stop,' I tell him, 'please...'
My son slowly works back up to that same passionate rhythm, but the lube in his hand is getting all used up. So I take the bottle and I flip the cap, look him in the eye and say, 'here... let mommy make it wetter!'
In my mind, as I watch Ed masterfully working his slippery, thickly-veined, muscular pole - as my mouth runs dry because all moisture is now headed to the deep south - it's my hand working him over, and pretty soon after that, my mouth is going to make up for the fact that there is no lube left I that little plastic bottle.
I watch him drizzle some more over himself, and then he's smearing it in, and he's back at it, moaning and massaging himself and calling out...
'Ohhhhh fuck, mom, that's amazing!'
My heart stammers, then like the hind legs of a jack rabbit, it hammers and my adrenaline kicks in. As I'm standing right over him, fantasising about what I could be doing with my son and that cock right now, at the very same time he's fantasising about me and has no idea.
The grin on my face stretches painfully wide. I cover my mouth and back up into reverse, unintentionally bumping ass-backwardly into the wall. I turn then and hightail it on silent footsteps. And fuck it, if he finds out I'm home already, as I go turn on the shower, tough shit - payback's a bitch.
I head to the bedroom and get my work clothes, then to the bathroom and lock the door, deliberately, because I don't want him walking in on me and seeing my hand down my tights as I fuck myself silly to the thought of his slick, lubed hard-on filling me deep and making me cry his name.
Ten minutes, he still hears me cry his name. Just as luck would have it, he calls back, sounding concerned and thinking that I've hurt myself and that I'm crying for help. In actual fact, I'm just a writhing orgasmic mess on the floor of the shower, deep cleaning my clit with the shampoo and a frenzied hand.
'You're hearing things,' I shout. 'I'm fine, go away!'