Lights, Camera, Incest

The ball was in her court. Almost literally! She had the option to remove her panties before her son. It'd been nearly three years since the video in the bathroom but what I'd seen with my own eyes, heard as well, that kind of attraction bordering on incestuous obsession just didn't go away with time.

I could see the cogs turning in her head

"Oh, no. I'm already running late," she paused as if to drag out the proceedings.

"It'd only take a second," I fired back, then went for it. "Go on Mom. Take off your panties."

It was so sexual. So overtly incestuous. I could see the mental gymnastics she was performing, wondering if it was all innocent or was there far more to the suggestion? I gave her an out.

"Just for a laugh," I added and it immediately calmed her exterior.

"I guess it WOULD be funny," she chuckled and released her hold on the racket and her handbag. "Alright, I'll do it!"

It caught my breath when I heard the words. In my wildest fantasies I didn't even imagine her actually agreeing, and then, to see her reach up under her white pleated skirt and take hold of her underwear, I could have fainted. With her eyes trained on me, she pulled yellow panties down below the hem and over her knees. One sneaker then the next was carefully pulled through the delicate material before she once more stood tall, holding her panties.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she laughed as I felt my cock harden. In track pants, I did nothing to hide its expected wakening, willing her eyes to look down at my arousal. She quickly looked at her watch, then back at her panties. "I'd better get going," she admitted before almost whispering as her eyes met mine. "Can you put these in the wash for me?"

Her hand reached out towards me and I reacted almost too quickly, lunging forward to accept the offering. And what a gift it was. For a mother to present her warm panties to her son, why shouldn't I be enthusiastic to receive this blessing? Our hands touched as she gently placed her knickers into my palm, her eyes momentarily reading mine, the lust surely evident before she glanced away, reaching out for her bag and racket and was flying from the room. "Better get going," she giggled playfully as I begged her skirt to flick up with her movement. It didn't. But who was I to demand more? I'd essentially ordered my mother to take off her panties and she'd gladly complied. I'd made the first move and it'd been monumentally successful. What more was to come?

*

I'd be lying if I said I immediately complied with her wishes. The soft nylon Lycra blend of her yellow sports knickers was far too tempting to simply dispose of in the laundry. No, I kept them with me as I went back to my work. Close at hand as I dubbed more of her videos. The occasional caress and yes, I'm not too ashamed to admit, I breathed in their scent. Was it her panties? Was it the footage I watched of my mother in lingerie, in the bath, the shower? Was it the potential of our coupling in the real world? Whatever, probably all of the former. But for three hours, my cock remained hard. Not just erect. Easily the hardest, longest lasting erection of my life. It was proof undeniable of the lust, the love I felt for her. And to top it off. I knew she felt the same.

*

It was only minutes after I placed her underwear in the laundry hamper, did she arrive home. I nonchalantly acknowledged her return, not wishing to come across as desperate or overly thirsty. It was a facade. Inside I was a volcano of incestuous desire, ready to erupt. In turn she was coy. Had I expected to her to regale me with every detail of the day? Pretty much, but instead our interactions were not unlike the ordinary. She mentioned she'd won, to which I gave my congratulations. She asked what I'd been up to and I steered clear of sniffing her panties and watching her masturbate with the handheld shower extension on VHS. Clearly, we were dancing around the inevitable and finally unable to take anymore, I broached the subject.

"So, ah...what was the reaction?" I muttered and clearly having been thinking the same thing, she answered immediately without needing clarification.

"They didn't even notice!" She seemed suitably disappointed.

"Oh, really!?" I replied, incredulous.

"I know right!"

"Maybe it just doesn't fly up when you play," I proposed, hoping she'd offer me a practice swing or serve to inspect.

"Hmm, maybe," she seemed despondent. "Shame, you're right, it would've been funny."

"Oh well, maybe next time," I suggested as she began to leave the room.

"Maybe," she repeated. "Anyway, I'm taking a shower." She informed and I struggled to come up with anything to make her stay, or if I was honest, have her invite me in with her, merely nodding my acknowledgement.

I took my eyes off her as she exited the kitchen and she was half way down the hall when she called my name. "Hey Leo," Mom playfully laughed and I looked just in time to see her lift the rear of her skirt. Her bottom pushed out, I stared as my mother mooned me. The moment lasted less than a second I supposed but I recall it even to this day, the smoothness of her cheeks, the darkness of the crevice. The way her thighs clung together with her feet turned inward slightly. "At least someone got to see!" She laughed as she disappeared into her bedroom, the door closing behind her.

I admit I was awestruck. Yes, I'd heard what she'd declared on the video about incest. Yes, she'd only hours before placed her warm panties in my hand. But this was the first time I'd seen her nudity in the flesh. Playful, risqué and yes, beautiful. I closed my eyes for the briefest of seconds and there she was once more, tennis skirt raised, bare ass on display for me and me alone.

But what did it mean? I asked myself as I walked down the hall. Was it an invitation? Or as I'd observed, merely playful flirting? A mother just following through with the joke she'd meant for her peers? I paused outside her bedroom and debated whether I should follow her in. The door closed. Wouldn't she have left it ajar? For me to peek through and see her disrobe? For her eyes to drift to mine and then call me to enter? That's what should have happened. Instead, this. A mixed signal if ever there was. A barrier on any potential coupling. With the sound of the shower turning on, I left to check on my recording.

*

A wine with dinner. Did we need alcohol to facilitate the potential illicit act of mother/son romance? Probably not. But if the incestuous lubricating properties of a fine Riesling, along with my admittedly impeccably cooked salmon couldn't encourage my mother into the bedroom, nothing could.

It wasn't all smooth sailing. I struggled to draw our conversation towards anything sexual during the meal and Mom wasn't making it easy. In fact, if I was honest, I'd suggest she deliberately avoided my eye as we dined and when I directed our discussion back to the tennis and 'the joke,' she quickly changed the subject. Did she regret what she'd done? Had the reality of flashing her naked buttocks to her son changed her sinful desires from years before? When post-dinner we'd cleaned the kitchen and still feeling hungry Mom took a small tub of yogurt from the fridge however, her actions proved otherwise.

The foil lid removed as I refilled our glasses, (wine with yogurt, I did question?) I turned back to see her seemingly waiting for me to acknowledge her. With lid in hand, she lifted it toward her mouth and suggestively poked out her tongue to lick the remnant of vanilla from the underside. It was overtly sexual. Her tongue slow to enter back in her mouth to swallow as if presenting her prize. Once more licking the lid, her eyes on me and again the creamy white yogurt, almost resembling cum upon her pink salivating tongue.

She grinned as she drew it back into her mouth. "Yummy," she declared and I fumbled my glass as I absently reached beside to retrieve it. "Did you want some?" She asked.

If it was from her mouth, savoring the taste of vanilla as we kissed? The answer was yes. If, as I expected it was from a spoon which she then reached for, I was want to decline.

"Oh, come on," she didn't take no for an answer and dipped the teaspoon into the yogurt, moving forward to hold it out in my direction. "It's delicious."

Mom stopped inches before me with spoon held up. She looked up expectedly, almost pleadingly into my eyes, and I couldn't deny her, opening my mouth to accept her offering. She was right. It was delicious and I told her so to which she smiled and regrettably took a step back. I expected her to retrieve another spoon but to my surprise, she dipped her own back into the yogurt and ate right off the same. THAT was a sign, surely. "You want more you'll have to wrestle me for it," she laughed as she again hungrily dipped into the dessert.

I took a sip from my glass and was right. Wine and yogurt didn't mix and smiled as I shook my head. Idiot, I thought as I immediately regretted my decision. Was that an honest invitation at physical contact? Had I just deprived myself of a legitimate yet playful wrestle with my mother? Yes. And I knew why. Just as I wondered if she was having doubts during dinner, I myself was beginning to question whether incest was on the cards. Shit like that didn't happen. Not to normal people like us.

"Your loss," Mom commented as she finished the small tub and disposed of the evidence. I immediately and silently agreed.

*

I opened another bottle. Fully admitting to myself now that the night had advanced, I actually did need alcohol to summon up the courage to make a move. All evening I'd looked for another opening and it came just as I was getting desperate and thinking of turning to an 'adult' channel on cable. I didn't need it. I watched as Mom left the living room. Her glass still unfinished, I knew it wasn't final although I still held my breath until her eventual return. And return she did. With the means of seduction.

Her hair pulled out of her pony tail, she entered with eyes on the television and ran a hairbrush through her shoulder length locks. "Ugh, knots," she bemoaned as she slumped back beside me on the couch.

And there it was!

"Remember I used to brush your hair as a kid?" I chuckled as I kept my eyes on the screen and the Bruce Willis action movie, we'd both seen countless times before.

"'Remember,'" she laughed. "Your father and I thought you may've been gay, the amount of time you spent styling my hair. We thought you'd at least grow up to be a barber."

"Ha," I laughed. "Nah, I just liked doing it I guess."

"You offering?" Mom herself watched the movie, her question more in jest.

"If you want?" I threw it back at her, nonchalantly looking in her direction.

Her reaction was immediate. Of course it was. She wasn't the knucklehead that had turned down the offer of a wrestle. "Ah, yeah!" She enthused as she handed me the hairbrush and climbed down to the floor between my legs.

I wasn't prepared, and the position I now found her in took my breath away. Her shoulders pressed my inner thighs at the knee, my feet feeling her hips upon the floor. I handed her my wine glass and she placed it upon the coffee table as I casually took her hair in hand and pressed the brush to her crown. Casually, yet inside I was a ball of nerves and sexual repression. The memories of my youth came flooding back. More than twenty-five years before, in the same position. Then so innocent. A child enjoying intimate time with his mother, the love of his life. Now a man, feeling those same silky locks between his fingers and completely different emotions running through his mind. She sighed as I ran the brush through her hair and the sound was arousing. Wearing track pants, my cock's presence was instantly obvious, twitching under the thin layer of material and bulging my crotch.

Again, I stroked from top to bottom, encountering not one knot and I wondered if indeed there'd been any to begin with? Had this been her intention all along? Once more with the sighs and I laughed at her contentment.

"What!?" She giggled. "It's been so long since someone brushed my hair. It feels nice."

"I'm not saying anything," I grinned, my cock now a tower protruding from the cotton. No knots to be found, I abandoned the brush and before taking to her scalp with both hands, treated myself to a rub of my dick. The feeling was better than I expected and the mere stroke, the pressure of the material, had me bordering on orgasm.

I ran my fingers through her hair and massaged her head with the tips, her sighs quickly becoming uncontrolled moans. "Ahhh, that's so good," she whispered. "So good Baby," she added and I felt her tense between my legs. The way she'd uttered the words was so sexual and I wondered if she'd even surprised herself. I responded by increasing my massage. Down from her hairline and onto her neck; up behind her ears which increased her pleasured utterances and feeling even more confident with my endeavors, down onto her shoulders.

For a moment I believed with horror I'd gone too far. She broke from my grip and leaned forward and I cursed myself for not going slower. Felt for sure she'd turn and see my erection and be mortified at my unwarranted arousal. No. That wasn't what happened.

The bra strap I'd felt beneath my fingers as I touched her shoulders had obviously had an effect on both of us. Me as tactile evidence of her underwear. For her, a barrier to receiving the full massage she desired. Her hand slid up beneath her loose V-neck t-shirt and unclasped the bra, followed by her deftly removing it through the arm hole and tossing it onto the couch beside me. The whole process took less than five seconds and she was back between my legs as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed. I was now given non-verbal license to continue my fondling. Encouraged to delve further, to give her the pleasure she deserved.

I was upon her shoulders immediately, once more running my fingers up behind her ears and down to the collarbone. "Ooh yes," she enthused as I tentatively circled her neck, my little finger venturing onto her chest. Not wanting to push it, I withdrew once more to her shoulders before again circling onto her chest, my finger slightly lower. "Yesss," she uttered no more than a whisper and her hands settled upon my socked feet, caressing, encouraging.

My cock uncomfortable in its position, I moved it vertically to sit against my belly and leaning forward I was able to peer over her shoulder to see her nipples jutting out the front of her t-shirt from the light of the television. Her attire hadn't suggested sex from the time she'd left the shower that afternoon, but now I could see its benefits. Her loose-fitting shirt, the baggy track pants, all would be so easily removed (just as mine) if we were to go any further. And with my hands once more encroaching onto her chest, and the almost sexual sighs emitting from her lungs, further I went.

Her hands had crept to my shins, thumbs stimulating my calves as with one hand in her hair, I let the other drift inside the collar of her shirt. Onto her chest I ventured and got no opposition. In fact she clearly lifted her breast up toward me as I felt her heartbeat under my gentle rubbing. And then...just as Bruce Willis aptly uttered 'Yippee Ki-yay Motherfucker,' I pressed the palm of my right hand onto her left breast.

I heard her breath taken. Mine also held as I cupped her soft mammary. The hardness of her nipple pressed into my palm and I held it for what seemed an eternity. Waiting for a sign. A rejection of the advance. Quashing my inappropriate behavior and scolding my audacity. The opposite. She breathed out noticeably, her body relaxing ever more. "Mmm," she sighed and I slid her nipple between my fingers in response and again the sigh of compliance.

It was the perfect reaction and emboldened, I crossed to the other breast, stretching the collar of her t-shirt yet neither of us seemingly concerned. Her right nipple just as hard, I caressed her breast with all the affection I could muster, tweaking her nipple, moving my hand across to capture both at once between my fingers and thumb. "Oh Leo," she breathed as leaning further forward my cheek came close to hers. "So good Baby," she repeated and her elbows rose up between my thighs. The action caused my grip on her boobs to break and disheartened momentarily I fell backwards as she rose and slid back on onto my lap.

If she was surprised to feel my hard-on press between her buttocks, she didn't say. Instead, she lay fully upon me and lifted a hand up into my own hair behind her. Once more I pressed a hand upon her. My fingers creeping up under her t-shirt and feeling her soft belly, a thumb again touching nipple whilst my little finger teased the waistband of her pants. "My sweet boy," she whispered as our cheeks pressed and I lay the gentlest of kisses beside her mouth. Her lips parted and I felt her tongue search for mine, obliging as side by side our first real kiss began.

As she licked the edge of my mouth, I plunged my hand down the front of her track pants and found pubic hair. Had I entered her panties? No. She wore none. With my other I again took a boob in hand and squeezed a nipple just as I stroked through her ample locks and came upon her wetness. So slick were her folds, my middle finger slid immediately inside her body, her warmth all encompassing. The intoxicating scent of pussy reached my nostrils and I breathed deep as she turned her face further towards me, I in-turn. Again, we kissed. This time fully, her tongue delving inside my mouth as I curled my finger inside her vagina. Her whole body ground against me, her ass in particular. So perfect a fit were her buttocks around my cock I felt I she was moulded to suit me. No, I to her. Two fingers I pushed inside her dripping pussy, as my other hand became sweaty at her tit. Finger fucking my mother as we kissed, pushing my cock up against her ass. One thing was bound to happen and it occurred for both of us simultaneously.

Biting down on my tongue, she prevented me from declaring I was about to cum. Her orgasm however was far more pronounced. One hand on my head, she clenched, tugging at my hair as her entire body convulsed. The other hand she clutched to my own as it groped at her breast. Wiggling, curling my fingers inside her velvety cave, the walls squeezed around me quivering as I felt the shuddering orgasm sweep her body. The idea I'd made my own mother cum was quickly eclipsed by the pleasure of my own premature ejaculation. Inside my stretched track pants, I shot forth my load, burst after contained burst of wasted seed filling my underwear, probably soaking through my pants and onto hers.

With her mouth still hermetically attached to mine, I breathed out with relief and she finally released my lips, quick to kiss me again as she drew her legs together around my hand once more locking a part of my anatomy. "Did you just cum Leo?" She smiled and I managed to finally speak, my first words for almost ten minutes.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"I can feel it Honey," she giggled kissing my mouth, my nose, my cheek.

"Oh. I'm sorry," I admitted but she'd have none of it.

"Don't be silly darling," she wriggled her ass around on my cock, no doubt drawing more sperm from my length, increasing the damage I'd done. "It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful," I declared and she brought my face into hers, pressing her cheek against mine.

"I love you," she whispered into my ear and it caused my cock to pulse once more as if declaring its own love in response. This caused her to giggle all over again and I felt her squeeze her pussy around my fingers as if to mimic my own sex's feat. "We should probably talk," she laughed.