tagIncest/TabooKnowing Mom

Knowing Mom


It started the day she got a raise. She came home so happy, she wanted to celebrate. After all, it wasn't just the raise, it was her independence she was celebrating. Ever since her divorce, doubt had nibbled at the corners of her mind. Could she make it on her own? Could she earn enough to support herself and her 18-year-old son? Would her ex's parting words prove true, "You're too stupid to ever earn a decent living." Well, she hadn't been too stupid, and now she had a raise, and now, she wanted to celebrate.

She opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a big glass. She called in Ricky and poured him a glass too. She wanted to share her good fortune with someone, and her son was handy. Together they sipped wine, laughed, and talked about how to spend the extra cash. Nothing frivolous. It wasn't that much money. She hadn't won the lottery. But the money would pay for a luxury now and then. That made them both happy. Too happy. One bottle led to a second, and by then, neither of them really wanted dinner. They toasted and planned and got more drunk.

Until Ricky passed out.

She wasn't quite sure when it happened. One moment, he seemed fine, and the next he was slumped in his chair, his body sprawled, his legs sticking out his gym trunks, his mouth slack and open. She knew he had passed out. She had seen that often enough, and it was her job to try and wake him, get him to bed. She grabbed his arm and talked to him, but he wouldn't rouse. He simply sat there inert but still handsome. That was one gift she couldn't deny her ex. His good looks had transferred to his son. The look softened her for a moment, and a pang of regret shot through her. They had had good times. They had had fun. And in bed...well, she had never been disappointed there. Maybe that was the part she missed most. She missed those sweaty sessions between the sheets. Grabbing him, stroking him, holding....

She involuntarily looked at Ricky, at his crotch. Was he endowed like his father? Had that been passed along too? She looked and wondered and fought the urge to check. God, what if he was, what then? Had she been sober, she probably would have laughed and gone to bed, but she wasn't sober. She was full of confidence and wine, and he was passed out. Perhaps she should check him out. Who would ever know? No one. She laughed as she sank to her knees in front of him. If she did this right, he would never even suspect.

She pulled open a leg of his trunks and pushed her hand up his thigh. A nice, athletic thigh. She pushed past his boxers and found his penis. Yes, it was much like his father's. She wondered if she could make it hard.

She stroked him, lightly, the way she knew his father liked it. She wondered if he could even get it up while passed out. She supposed he could. Didn't men get hard and soft during the night while they slept? Didn't it have a mind of its own? She stroked a bit more, and she was rewarded. She felt it start to expand, which emboldened her. She rubbed a bit harder and squeezed, pulling it down his thigh and toward her. God, it was filling rapidly, getting hard in her hand. She giggled. God, if anyone could see her. She pushed away the thought and pushed up his shorts, exposing the head that was sooo soft and yet hard. She stroked and watched it grow, and she knew he was bigger than his father. Bigger, harder too from what she could tell. And he looked...pretty.

She had never really studied a penis before. She supposed it was because most men didn't really want it studied when it was in that state. They wanted to use it. But if they knew how good it looked to women, they would be less insistent on using it and more amenable to letting women stare and study and get aroused by the mere sight.

She studied it, and it reminded her of a snake, a white snake in a tutu—god, what a thought that was, like it was some kind of dancer. It was wearing a collar that she touched lightly, running her finger along it. What purpose did that serve? Designed to please a woman, make her want sex more? She supposed everything about it was designed to please a woman, make mating more pleasurable. If it felt good, wouldn't a woman be more receptive? Wouldn't that assure the propagation of the species? Stiff with something to stimulate a woman, yes, that was what it was all about.

And this one was full and pink and as hard as she had ever seen one. But despite the hardness, the skin was soft. She could feel his heart beating through the blood pumping through it. She concentrated on it for a moment. His heart was pumping right along, young and strong. What a wonderful thing to have, a young heart and an erection like this. Wow, no wonder the young were envied. She ran a nail over his head and felt it shiver. She thought she might be able to study it for hours, but that would be crazy. No, she had to end her study before he woke or something happened. She didn't want a problem. She leaned forward and kissed the tip, lightly, tenderly. Then, she pulled down his shorts and stood. He slept so peacefully. Her eyes wandered down to the snake in his shorts. She resisted the temptation and went off to her room.

But she didn't sleep, not at first. She lay still as the snake vision played across her mind. She found it incredibly stimulating as she supposed she was designed to do. As sleep stole over her, she smiled.

In the morning, she found Ricky in his bed, which meant he had awakened during the night. As she woke him, she wondered if he was hard under the covers, half wanting to check. He groaned and moaned, but she woke him anyway and went down for coffee. She was sipping when he walked in, ready for school. With a kiss on her cheek, he was gone, but not before the snake vision flashed in her brain. A vision, she didn't banish right away.

Work was work, and despite the stress and her wishes, she found herself reliving the night before at moments. She didn't do it on purpose, but she couldn't help remembering. She remembered how it looked and felt, how she made it hard and ready. She didn't dwell on the images, but she couldn't quite banish them either. Not even at lunch with Denise.

Denise was another divorcee, but Denise was different in that she claimed to date very young men. 'Barely legal' was her way of describing them. She said they had huge advantages over older men. They got hard easily, had great stamina, and loved sex. If they came too quickly, well, that was a hazard that could be overcome by making them do it twice. They recovered quickly. Also, she said that if she could give them their first blow job, she owned them. They would do anything for the second one. While Denise described her latest conquest, Lori thought about the snake. Were young men really so good? She didn't know, and more than likely she would never find out.

After work, she called home. Ricky was going to a party with his friend Todd, so Lori decided to go to a movie with Denise. After, they stopped for a drink, and Denise flirted with the young waiter. Lori was a bit put off, but Denise was in her element, half seducing the young man. He was cute and maybe in good shape, but he certainly wasn't buff like Ricky. Lori was willing to bet he wasn't hung like Ricky either. Why did that vision keep inserting itself into her mind? Why was she dwelling on it? She wasn't. At least she told herself she wasn't.

A message waited for her at home. Ricky was staying the night with Todd. She brushed her teeth, slipped into bed and entertained the snake vision for only a moment before she went to sleep.

Saturday meant laundry, which she started with the usual lack of enthusiasm. While sorting, she came across the shorts Ricky had worn the night she touched him, and by chance she noticed a stain, a stain she recognized. Every wife knew that stain, that male stain. It was as clear as day. Ricky had had a dream, and the dream had led to ejaculation, and this was the result. She couldn't help but wonder if she had had anything to do with it. Had her handling him caused the dream? Or was it the wine? She wondered, and as she wondered the vision invaded her mind. With the vision came a wave of heat. The idea that she had caused him to...well, the idea floated her boat as the kids liked to say. With a last look, she tossed the shorts into the washer. Did she possess that kind of power?

After laundry, she went outside to work in her garden. The work was something she enjoyed, and she was on her hands and knees in the bed when she glanced over her shoulder and found Ricky looking at her. He grinned as if he had just walked up, but she wondered if he had been back there for a bit, looking at her, admiring her ass? Had he? And if he had, why was that exciting too? She drove the thought from her mind as she told him to cut the lawn. He stripped off his shirt as he went to the garage, and she admired his body. Tanning while mowing was his motto. She finished and went inside.

As she sipped lemonade, she watched him mow. Back and forth, green grass spewing out, he looked very good to her. The snake vision popped into her mind, the heat rippled. She found herself wondering if she had caused him to dream. Why did she think of that? Shaking her head, she went to fold laundry.

She was delivering the laundry when he came out of the shower in nothing but a towel. He scampered into his room but not before she checked out his 'package', a package she was familiar with. She chided herself for even looking, but she couldn't help herself. The vision, it was the vision that drove her. She drove the desire to invade his room and disappeared into her own. How had she managed to be there right when he came out of the shower? Chance? She told herself she hadn't planned it.

She half expected him to 'happen' along when she emerged from her shower in her robe, but he wasn't there. She wasn't disappointed. How could she be? That would be crazy. What was she expecting, a peeping son?

They met in the kitchen and exchanged plans. He was going to a party with Todd, his friend. She was going out with Denise. They would meet back home later. Fair enough.

Lori ended up at a dance place, where Denise fawned over young men and older men plied Lori with drinks. She accepted the drinks, danced a little, and turned down the offers for something more. A few sweaty minutes in the parking lot or with someone with beer breath wasn't her idea of a 'good time'. A couple of them rubbed their hips on her, and once she detected an erection, and she found herself comparing it to Ricky's. Not even close. Ricky was so much bigger and harder. The vision filled her head even as she danced.

Denise picked up a likely young man, a kid in Lori's eyes, which gave Lori a reason to go home early. The place held nothing she wanted. Home was actually welcome as she tossed her keys on the table. Why did she let Denise drag her to places where the footwear of choice were cowboy boots? She laughed and poured herself a glass of wine, and was halfway through it before Ricky hobbled in.

Todd supported him, and pain filled Ricky's face. "Ankle," Ricky said as he hopped past, straight to his room. She followed and watched Todd help Ricky into bed. He moaned as Todd jammed a pillow under the offending ankle. Then, with a guilty smile, Todd vanished, leaving Ricky to tell the tale. They had been playing pickup basketball, and Ricky had been showing off, dunking the ball. He came down on someone's foot, and the ankle folded. No one's fault, just happened. Todd had wrapped the ankle and given him some ibuprofen, but it still throbbed. But nothing to worry about really, just a bad sprain.

She retrieved a bag of ice and the pain killer she had taken when she broke her foot the year before. The prescription called for a single pill, but he wanted two. He was bigger he argued. Besides, he needed sleep. She acquiesced and watched him down the pills. He was wearing baggy gym shorts, and she half peeked up his thigh. Was the snake up there? Shaking the thought from her mind, she patted him on the head and left. What a night. First a bunch of loser cowboys and now an ankle.

She watched TV for an hour before she checked on him. The ice bag had fallen to the side, and his ankle had slipped off the pillow, but he was asleep, so asleep he didn't make a sound or move when she lifted his ankle for replace the pillow. So asleep he didn't flinch when she ran her hand up his leg. So asleep, he didn't stir when she slipped her fingers beneath his shorts. So asleep, he didn't quiver when her fingers found the snake.

More bold than before, she pushed up his shorts and had him aroused in what seemed moments. And just as before, she found herself staring at him, at his size, at his stiffness. What a wonderful erection he had. She stroked and felt and squeezed. She touched that sensitive place underneath the collar or tutu as she liked to call it. She rubbed it with her palm and rubbed her fingers across the top, across the hole. For some reason, it felt wonderful to handle him, to touch and feel and use. Why was that? He was her son for crying out loud, why did she like touching him?

Because he was a man.

That simple truth struck her full in the psyche. She was programmed to like men, all men, all stiff erections that could impregnate her. Her genes were the reason and the cause. She couldn't help it. There was nothing taboo about her DNA, just her thoughts. She would like handling all men, all sperm making machines. But she especially loved this one. This was the nicest one she had ever seen. Big, straight, as hard as steel, it teased her in a way she couldn't explain. She wanted it, wanted in ways a mom shouldn't think about. And that caused her to pull down his shorts and hide the snake but not before she took the tip in her mouth and sucked just a bit. The desire to do more raced through her, but she stopped herself. A last lick and down with the shorts and out the door before she could no longer control herself.

That night, she masturbated for the first time in a long time. She closed her eyes and envisioned the snake and rubbed herself until an orgasm rippled through her. It felt soooo good, and it was because of the snake. She loved the moistness between her legs and licked her lips and fell asleep.

Sunday was a slow day. She woke, fixed coffee and breakfast and served Ricky in his room. She unwrapped his ankle to check the swelling, and she wondered about the other swelling he had. She wondered if he had had another wet dream. She was half tempted to chase the snake in its lair, but she couldn't find the nerve. Instead, she rewrapped his bruised ankle and left before the wave of heat caused her to do something really dumb.

The rest of the day, she did some chores, left to shop for groceries and generally took care of Ricky. He couldn't really put any weight on his foot, so he watched TV in his room. She avoided him for the most part. The snake vision appeared every time she was near, and she didn't need that distraction. Twice she helped him into the bathroom. Arm around his waist, supporting him, she wondered if she could cop a feel somehow. She considered offering to hold if for him while he went. Here, dear, let me point that thing. She almost laughed at the idea, perhaps would have laughed had not the vision popped into her head. She wouldn't be aiming just him, she would be aiming the snake. Luckily, Ricky could handle that chore on his own.

After dinner, she asked if he wanted something for pain, and he said he would take one, which left her with a dilemma. Two pills had knocked him out completely. Would one? She debated for a moment before she emptied a single capsule into a dish of ice cream. The other she gave him with water. Then, as he gobbled the ice cream, she went to the family room to wait.

The next hour passed very slowly for her. She tried TV and reading, but every few seconds her mind focused in on the vision, and she found herself wondering if he was asleep yet. She tried to keep her anxiety in place, but it wasn't easy. Something inside her had changed, and she wasn't as cool as before. At the end of an hour, she tiptoed down the hall and peeked.

He was asleep.

She didn't presume he was ready for her manipulations, so she tried to wake him. He was sound asleep, under the influence of drugs, and that brought a smile to her face. With familiar speed, she reached up his shorts to coax out the snake. She felt bold and breathless as she stroked him to hardness. She pulled it out as far as possible and played with it afresh, touching and stroking and pulling and squeezing. The snake in a tutu looked delicious to her. She didn't care how or why, just that it did. She liked it, loved it, felt warm and tingly with it. With a sudden thought, she pulled up her shirt and exposed her breast. Delicately, she rubbed the snake across her nipple, and it made her shiver. She let the snake feast on her breast, touching it everywhere, teasing the nipple until it was as hard as the snake itself. She had always wanted to do that with a man, but no man had ever allowed her such freedom. No man had ever managed to hold off long enough to let her play. It was all business with them, not the stuff of fantasy. Her nipple ached and her body burned as she took him in her mouth.

Where she had been timid the other times, this time, she pleased herself on him. Sucking, licking, taking him deep, she used the snake over and over. She loved the steady pulse of blood along it, how it filled her mouth, how it made her want more. She liked the feel of the skin on her tongue, the tutu on her lips, the texture when she nibbled. This was exactly how she wished she had been introduced to sex, to men. She would have loved to have had one to experiment with, to practice on, to explore at her leisure. Because having it this way was better than any way she had ever tried. Being able to gnaw him to her content proved more stimulating than anything.

She glanced over and stopped. The window reflected a woman, and Lori hardly recognized herself. The woman in the glass with one bare breast and protruding nipple wantonly sucked a large male member, and she had the disheveled look of a hussy, a woman in need of what the member had to offer. That woman, what would anyone say if they saw that woman, that mother doing this to her son? What sort of creature had she become? She was shocked. Lust had transformed her into the woman in the glass, into the woman in need, the woman full of desire. Was that really her? Was she really doing this to Ricky? What had she become?

She started to pull away, and at that moment, he began to shoot. She shouldn't have been surprised, but she was. Hot, thick man syrup was pumping into her mouth, stopping her for a moment. But just a moment. Forgetting the woman in the glass, she sucked hard and pumped with her hand and took every drop of jism he possessed. She held him till the snake stopped spitting, till it began to shrivel into a worm. She held him till she was certain he had no more, and then with triumph, she swallowed. He couldn't see, he would never know, but she did, and she liked it. She loved it. She couldn't remember a better completion to the act. Damn, it was the hottest thing she had ever allowed herself to experience.

Trembling, she returned the shriveled snake to its and den, adjusted herself, and slid off the bed. She wasn't sure she could walk, but she managed. She drifted down the hall to her room where she opened a bureau drawer and fished in the back where her fingers found an old vibrator she had bought when first divorced. It hadn't brought the kind of satisfaction she had needed, and even now, it wouldn't work. It needed new batteries. But she didn't care. She stripped naked and lowered herself to the bed and then she used the vibrator as she had wanted to use the snake. Knowing Ricky slept, she moaned and called out his name and rode the vibrator until perspiration coated her skin. Eyes closed, picturing the snake, she worked and worked until the orgasm exploded inside her. And as soon as it subsided, she went back to work until a second one nipped on the heels of the first. It felt so good. Not as good as real but good.

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bywordmaster© 38 comments/ 1152364 views/ 239 favorites

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