Lights, Camera, Incest

"Ah, yeah I had something before I left," I lied for no particular reason, crossing the kitchen and pouring myself a glass of water.

"Look at this," Mom stated as I drank and I looked back as she circled the bench-top, slowly walking toward me, eyes still on her phone. "It's a video I made."

I choked on the water mid swallow, some even coming out of my nose as I turned back to the sink.

"You okay?" She laughed as I felt her hand on my back, tapping as I coughed.

"Yeah, just went down the wrong hole," I dismissed, looking once more upon her.

"Well, like I was saying," she concentrated again on her phone. "Check out Denise," she giggled. "You know, my friend from the club."

I looked down at her phone as she tilted it in my direction, sidling in beside me to watch along. Admittedly I took in my fair share of her cleavage, what looked to be a white sports bra poking out around her t-shirt.

"What am I looking at here?" I asked as I concentrated on the screen, Mom filming her friend practicing her serves as she watched on from the sideline. And then I saw it, her short skirt flipping up with the follow through, what looked to be lace panties beneath. From behind the phone came the laughter of multiple women before I heard Mom's voice.

"You're terrible Denise," Mom laughed.

Another woman chiming in. "Go on, show us." To which Denise lifted her skirt to reveal the hot pink lace underwear, the hem cutting across her buttocks.

Once more a chorus of laughter before the video ended and began playing again from the beginning.

"Why are you showing me this?" I was flabbergasted. The sexuality on display, overt.

"Well, it's funny," she laughed, absently flicking through other images on her screen. "It's classic Denise."

"Okay."

"Well, you aren't supposed to wear..." She paused. "...well, lingerie when you're playing. It should be just normal knickers...like these."

I supposed it was innocent. A week before and without the insight into my mother's private life, I would've believed it. Now it was just as overtly sexual as Denise's tennis upskirts. Mom took hold of the front of her skirt and raised it up to reveal her panties. Having already spied them from behind, I was now treated to an unrestricted view of her pubic mound, the light blue material delving between the bumps of her upper labia. It was beautiful.

I raised a hand in jest to shield my eyes from the sight. That would be a son's normal reaction would it not? In fact, merely blocking her eyes from seeing where mine remained focused. I wanted to stare for as long as possible. I cared not that I could feel my cock hardening further in my shorts, doubting she'd notice anyway. Why would a mother look at her son's crotch?

"I'm blind," I joked and sadly whilst laughing she took it from my sight, lowering her skirt.

"Oh alright," she giggled. "You can look again."

I'd never stopped.

"So, this friend of yours, Denise. She single?" I jokingly inquired and Mom slapped me on the arm as she crossed the kitchen with her plate.

"She's too old for you," she laughed as I followed her progress, her skirt once more riding up on her thighs as she leaned forward to open the dishwasher, the briefest glimpse of her panties.

"Maybe my tastes are maturing," I muttered to myself, risking a rub of my crotch just before Mom turned and I managed to evade her eyes.

"What?"

"Oh...nothing," I felt myself redden.

"Well, I'm having as shower," she looked at me suspiciously as she vacated the kitchen.

I had to be more careful.

*

Why WOULD she show me that video? I pondered as I set up my rig. The camera I hid beneath my desk, the newly acquired cables running up the back to join my laptop. If Mom happened to enter the room, the video camera wouldn't be noticed. When not at home, I'd place it in my closet or even back in the garage. I thought of our interaction in the kitchen. Was it to tease me? I plugged in a two-terabyte hard drive and the adapter for transferring VHS to MP4 and turned everything on. Was her plan the whole time to get me to see her panties? Was it her intent when I first walked in, her ass on display? It was all a fancy, I told myself. It was possible Mom had always acted like that, nonchalant about how much of her body she was exposing, yet now that I was harboring incestuous fantasies it was only becoming obvious to me.

Whatever. I pressed play on the camera and watched with satisfaction, the image appearing on my screen of Mom on her bed. Masturbating. Only one more thing to do and I navigated the menus and found what I was after. 'Copy to file.'

*

The sound of the shower running in the background had long ended and I anticipated her arrival not long after by switching off the screen of my computer. Mom finding me innocently reading a book in my chair.

"Going next door for a coffee," she held the door frame. Dressed in casual leggings and a sweater, she still looked great and much as I was thrilled to have her out of the house, I was somewhat disappointed she was leaving. A paradox. "Want to come?"

"What? To June's?" I referred to our next-door neighbor.

"Well, you said you were bored the other day. You'd be getting out of the house."

I looked to the camera hidden beneath my desk.

"Nah, it's alright. I've found something to keep me occupied."

'An hour or two.' Was the time frame she gave me. And I intended to make the most of it. It had occurred to me early on, making quick trips to and from her bedroom to snatch a video tape or two wasn't going to cut it. Like a junkie in search of a fix, I needed it as soon as possible, all of it. And the only way for that to happen was if I had my own copies. The quick test of her masturbating was successful and I saved the file on the hard drive. Now for the rest of them. With her gone, I dragged the entire box from her room and into my own. Heavier, bigger than I expected, I was right when I'd deduced there to be more than a hundred. 121 VHS tapes to be exact. It was ridiculous to look at when I lined them up on my bedroom floor and attempted to organize them into order by date. Some of the tapes with 4hr run times, I calculated conservatively there to more than 350 hours of potential mom porn for me to wade through, to dub. It was a huge undertaking. But if ever there was a man for the job, it was me!

*

I found the first. It was confusing as the first thirty or so weren't labelled by day or month, only year. But when I began playing a random cassette just to view its contents, I struck gold. The beginning, and an answer to a lot of questions.

Obviously Dad filming, the recording began with a tour through the house, eventually ending up in the kitchen where it looked like Mom was making lunch. The sun streaming through the window AND her dress, Dad focused on her and advanced from behind. "Say something to the camera," Dad's voice came from behind the screen and Mom turned. It was then I noticed how much she'd aged since. Not in a bad way mind you. It's funny, you don't see the progression of time on those you see often and seventeen years can do a lot to one's appearance. Her hair was long, as long as I remembered it being when I was a child. Fascinated with her locks then and Mom more than willing for her son to brush it to his heart's content. The remembrance brought a smile to my face and as she in turn beamed, a hardness to my pants.

"You got it working!" She waved at the camera and the white dress once again revealed its transparent nature. The curve of her torso and hips silhouetted by the sunlight behind.

"Best twenty bucks we've ever spent! And you didn't want to go to the yard sale!" Dad laughed. "Do something."

Bemused, Mom scratched her head, biting her lip before looking behind her and out of the window momentarily. On returning, she raised her hands to the front of her dress and without pause, undid the buttons leading down the front.

"Jesus, Philippa?" Dad remarked as we watched together, mother and wife expose her bra-less chest, cupping her boobs and seductively playing to the camera. "Leo's just outside."

The mention of my name was startling. If the date on the tape was correct, I was aware I was still living there at the time, but that it was happening when I was actually at home! It was mind blowing. "He's playing with his car," Mom dismissed Dad's apprehension and advanced on the camera. "What, don't you like it?" She giggled.

"No, no, I like it fine Baby," he attempted to sound cool and I laughed at Dad myself. He was no 'cool' guy. A stuffed shirt if ever there was one.

"Then you won't mind if I...?" Mom questioned and she lowered her hands down to the skirt of her dress and raised it up her legs.

"Christ Babe," Dad exclaimed as he lowered the camera and it nauseatingly panned across the cupboard doors. "Are we really doing this?"

"What? It's just a bit of fun," Mom countered and I watched enthralled. The action out of sight, but their conversation conveniently explaining so very much.

"But what if Leo sees it?" Dad was thinking rationally and there was an extended pause before the camera was lifted and Mom's hands came away from the lens, her mischievous face smiling at the screen.

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him," she stated and I could see the front of her dress was now fully undone, her panties removed. She leaned back on the bench-top and slid a hand down her stomach into her thick furrow of pubic hair...

It was her. All along I'd been under the misguided and blatantly sexist impression Dad had coerced her into the films. No. It was her idea. My cock was a rock-hard tower inside my shorts and I undid my fly and let it breathe as I rewound the tape to begin dubbing the first video.

And so, it began.

*

Four days later and I'd refined it to a fine art. Recording in real time the entirety of each video tape no matter the contents, editing digitally later. I set my alarm for three- or four-hour intervals overnight corresponding to the length of the cassette, sleeping in shifts between. Much as I'd initially frowned upon sneaking into her room, I found to achieve my endeavor, it was necessary. Taking the opportunity whenever it should arise; when she was showering; ensconced in a TV show; even to my shame, when she was on the toilet. I began to justify the deception in that I was doing her a service. Was it possible she in fact kept the tapes to hold on to the memory of Dad? My actions, (however nefarious) were consolidating the act. Preserving his image in a longer lasting format, for posterity.

I told myself that as I delved into the box once again. Taking a whole layer of cassettes as she hung out washing in the back yard. Setting up another recording and I as usual grew hard as I looked upon the shiny pink spandex pants she wore. Such that wouldn't look out of place on a street walker. Zoomed in on her pussy, Mom pulled them high on her waist and highlighted her folds as Dad ran his fingers all over her crotch, between her legs. She turned and the same actions were performed on her ass. Mom clearly not wearing panties, Dad had the pleasure of fingering her crack from top to bottom, using his knuckle to stimulate her clit. She leaned forward and the wetness of her sex showed through, Dad a genius at holding the camera and pleasing his wife simultaneously.

Did she still own them? I wondered, thinking of the spandex pants a day later. And what of the rest of the lingerie and yes, costumes, I'd seen her wearing as the years progressed in celluloid. Had she held on to them? I was envious of my father. That she'd worn them for him. Was there any chance she could still wear them for me?

I'd told myself I wouldn't do it, go through her underwear drawer. It was a step too far. Such an invasion of her privacy. And yet, a day later, there I was. Calling in to work with a feigned illness, I found myself with a day alone in the house. With a recording in progress, I trance-like made my way to her room and watched as I saw myself open the topmost drawer of her dresser. And there they were. All manner of delicates. A spectrum of colors and materials. Panties clearly for comfort and those for play. The drawer below housed teddies, sleepwear, a baby doll I recognized from a solo recording where she masturbated upon the bed.

And further down. Leggings, tights and yes, the shocking pink of remembered spandex. There was no reason I couldn't take the baton from my father. Rub my fingers along her heavenly crack, to feel the same wetness seep through and have her scent upon my own knuckles...

Ridiculous, I admitted to myself. There WAS a reason. And it was a doozy. She was my mother for god's sake. I was delusional. I slammed the drawer shut and turned to see my reflection in the mirrored door of her closet. I was gaunt from excessive masturbation and lack of sleep. I was so swept up in a clearly unhealthy fantasy that I was even missing work, not to mention a social life to comply to its needs. Enough, I told myself. I'd finish my 'project' for the good of humanity and attempt to find a more socially acceptable outlet for my sexual appetite. Enough of the unobtainable fantasies of maternal incest. It would never happen.

Never.

Ever.

And then I was thrown a bone.

*

The video started out unlike most I'd seen up until then. Dad filming, his work vastly superior to his earlier efforts. No more swirling of the camera and quick pans. No, this was someone who knew what he was doing from years of experience. He followed the sound and light from the bedroom toward the bathroom and entered to capture my mother completely naked, perched upon the edge of the bathtub. Legs spread wide, she was in the process of spraying shaving foam into her palm, smiling at the camera as she pressed it to her hirsute pussy.

"And you think this'll do the job?" Dad asked as Mom took up a razor and began shaving her mound.

"Well, he must have looked at least twenty times today and...nothing," Mom cryptically responded and I wondered to whom in fact she referred?

The answer coming directly.

"It was his anniversary Phil," Dad replied. "Leo was more concerned about his wife than taking peeks up his mother's skirt!"

My mouth dried instantly, my heart racing as I turned up the volume on my laptop.

Dad quite steadily lowered the camera to be looking up between my mother's thighs as she expertly removed her pubic hair, her dripping labia glistening not only from the water and foam.

"Ugh," Mom groaned. "She hates him. They hate each other. I give it another six months at most."

"And then what?" The camera began subtly shaking and I wondered if Dad was masturbating? "He turns to you for comfort?"

Mom let out a mischievous giggle. "You said yourself, all boys want to fuck their mothers!"

I reached down and paused the camera to take in what I'd just heard, recording be damned.

What the hell was going on? My anniversary. Judging by how Mom looked, I took it to mean my tenth. Our divorce was more than a year after, but Mom's prediction of six months wasn't outlandish. My mother was openly discussing sex with me in front of Dad. What had she said? I'd looked twenty times or more! At what? Up her skirt? I thought back to my wedding anniversary. We'd gone to a restaurant, my wife, Mom and Dad. I clearly remembered what my wife had worn, a tight bodycon dress we'd bought online together. She'd looked spectacular and for a time I thought our sex life could've saved our marriage. I was wrong. What had Mom worn?

It came back to me right away. We'd joked about it on the night. The two women standing beside each other to compare who had the shortest dress. Mom had won. Had I looked up her skirt? Multiple times? If I had I couldn't recall. But what was the deal with her shaving her pussy? How would that draw me into the scheme she seemingly had underway? I started the tape once more and watched even more intently.

Dad had the same question. "So how's shaving your pussy help out?" The camera even shakier than before, leaving little doubt he was indeed jerking off. "And when's he even gonna see it!?"

A valid point, I agreed.

"Well all women are shaved nowadays. Maybe he likes it better that way. And you're forgetting next weekend," Mom stated.

"What's next weekend?" Dad (and I) asked. She took a wash cloth and dripped water over her groin before wiping between her legs, revealing her smooth pubic mound. "Fuck that looks beautiful," Dad declared and the camera moved to be placed on the toilet seat, remaining focused on my mother as naked and erect, Dad shuffled between her legs.

"And he'll think so too," Mom whispered as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. "Don't you remember? We're playing tennis against them. I'm gonna make sure he notices me this time!"

My dick was as hard as Dad's. Just like that my earlier attempted dismissal of an incestuous relationship was steamrolled by my own mother's words, more to the point, her actions. Regrettably, the tennis match had never eventuated. The cruel hand of fate saw Dad become ill and was in an out of hospital. What had she planned to do? Blatantly flaunt her sex from the other side of the net? We would always have a post-game drink. Had she planned to spread her legs in the bar, seduce her own son with the power of pussy? A bald pussy no less. How would I have reacted? Now the thought of it was ridiculously arousing and I pictured her in the kitchen upon the stool a week before. Rising up to show me her ass. I would've seen her asshole if she'd been panty less then. What about when she'd lifted her skirt to reveal her panties minutes later? Was she still shaved?

As I'd done a week before, I was ejaculating before I had a chance to prepare, standing to cum across the surface of my desk and minimize the clean-up. It was possible. All my fantasies seemingly had the ability to become reality. A tissue in hand, I fervently took care of the mess before rewinding the video to be sure.

Oh, I was sure.

*

"You think your friend, what was her name?...Denise, will be up to her tricks again?" I casually remarked as I passed Mom in the kitchen. I surreptitiously smelled her hair as we moved by one another, controlling the desire to take her in my arms and kiss her. To press my hardness against her body and declare my love.

"Who knows with her," Mom laughed and I watched her take her bottle of water from the fridge. Though upon the highest shelf it was well within reach yet she was up on her toes, her legs lengthening in the short pleated skirt. "She'll probably be wearing a thong," she added.

"Hah, yeah," I laughed. "You should go one better," I casually suggested.

All night as I recorded more of her videos, I imagined ways to admit I wanted her. To reveal I knew of her potentially shared feelings. Her regular Saturday game of tennis with friends was a prospect. Hadn't she herself originally planned it that way?

Mom looked at me quizzically. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Just for a laugh...go commando."

Her reaction was as I expected. A blush coming to her chest and neck. "Leo!" She laughed, slapping my arm as she crossed the room.

"What?" I teased. "It'd be funny. It's just you girls."

Not entirely to my surprise she seemed to be contemplating it.

"Oh...no I couldn't," she giggled, moving to her hand bag and depositing the water bottle.

"Go on. You said yourself how funny Denise was. This'd be hilarious. And I bet they'd never expect it from you."

She'd placed a hand around her racket fixing to leave, when her grip lessened.

"What, I take them off when I get there?" She actually sought my opinion.

"Yeah," I paused. "Or now?" I looked square in her eyes and tried to psychically reveal my intent, my desire for her.