Merry Masturbation with My Mom

Season's greetings and happy humpdays to all my fellow perverts.

This is an old story of mine from a few years ago. Written long before I started posting on Literotica, so it's maybe a bit less polished than I'm used to.

There's very little actual sex. Even though there are orgasms and sexual satisfaction, this is more like a prequel to the actual sexual story that I might someday write for these characters.

I've reworked it into a holiday tale because of the mood I'm in.

It's definitely incest, (with 'first time' elements as well) about a nineteen-year-old college student and her mother.

If incest isn't a kink you're comfortable with, please check out some of my other stories. And if you find the story a bit cliched and clunky, please check out some of my other stories here to see what I've learned about writing erotica.

As with most things that I write this story takes place in a happy alternate reality where people don't worry about pandemics, std's, or the need for safe sex.

Featuring:

Tiffany: first person narrator, nineteen years old, newly sexually active.

And her mother: forty years old and a lot more sexually adventurous than Tiffany realizes.

As always, I enjoy your comments and private messages here on Literotica.

IsabellaEmily

~~~

The weekend before Christmas I came home from my freshmen year of college for a visit.

My mother and I decided to leave my dad home alone and drive a few hours into the city for some shopping and girl time.

We left early in the morning, and after registering at the hotel and having our bags sent up to our room, we hit a local restaurant for lunch.

After lunch we went to a state park and spent several hours hiking through the crisp winter woods, before checking into our favorite spa for massages, facials, manicures, pedicures, and a relaxing time in the sauna.

By the time we returned to the hotel we were ready to crash for the night, but when we finally got to our room, we realized that we had a room with one king size bed instead of a room with two queens.

"I'm so sorry." Mom said. "I should have made it clear when we checked in what we needed."

"No worries." I said. "We can make do."

"I guess." She said.

"What's the matter?" I teased. "Don't want to share a bed with me? I don't snore."

"After sleeping next to your father all these years I wouldn't even notice if you did." She said.

"I won't toss and turn either." I grinned. "And I promise to keep my hands to myself."

"Well that's a better deal than I get at home." She said. "I'm not sure I can fall asleep if someone isn't groping me."

"That's approaching too much information Mom." I told her with a laugh.

I pulled my top off and threw it on a chair and then reached back and unhooked my bra.

"Tiffany?" she asked. "Are you just going to get naked right out here?"

"Mom, we spent all afternoon together naked." I reminded her. "Besides I haven't got anything that you don't have an even more impressive pair of."

She laughed and stuck her tongue out at me.

"Well you certainly have less pubic hair than I do." She said. "When did that start?"

"Oh it's just something I wanted to try." I said evasively.

No need for her to know exactly who had helped me shave it off. Or what we'd done afterwards.

"Well it looks nice." She said, pulling her own top off and reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra.

By now I was naked, and contemplating what I was going to wear to sleep in. I was rooting in my bag trying to find my shorts.

"Gee thanks Mom." I said. "The first person who ever compliments my vagina turns out to be my own mother."

"I take it back if you're going to be uptight about it." She laughed. "Besides it's not nice to lie to your mother."

"Lie?" I asked her.

"Don't tell me that I'm the first to compliment your vagina. I know better than that." She said.

It was my turn to stick out my tongue.

She tossed her bra on top of the dresser and unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor.

I looked up from my bag. I noticed that she hadn't been wearing any panties under her skirt.

"And why the hell aren't you wearing any underwear?"

"I'm not wearing any underwear because it's more comfortable that way." She said. "Besides it's the way your father prefers me.

"This conversation might be bordering on too fucking much information Mom." I told her.

"I'll skip over telling you about your father's reaction every time I to go without panties then." She laughed.

"Fuck." I said. "It's bad enough that now I know he even has a reaction to that."

"Then I'll skip showing you the text he sent me earlier describing his reaction." She teased.

"Thank god I won't have to read it." I said, returning to paw through my bag.

"There's nothing to read." She told me. "It's a picture."

"Ewwww." I said. "Dammit."

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I must have forgot to pack my shorts." I said. "I'll have to sleep in tomorrow's underwear."

"Just sleep without." She said as she stretched out in the bed naked. "It's just us and I didn't pack anything to sleep in either. Of course, I didn't know we'd be sharing a bed. But I don't mind if you don't."

"Well if there's a fire in the middle of the night, I wouldn't want you to be the only one running out into the street nude." I told her. "Just please don't mention any more of dad's preferences."

"No promises." She said. "He'll be texting me soon to tell me how much he misses our bedtime routine."

"Instead of horrifying me by telling me about your perverted bedtime routine, want to watch tv for a while?" I asked her.

"Not really." She said turning off the light on her side of the bed. "I'd rather talk. You'll be back to school as soon as the holidays are done."

"Sounds good to me." I said.

I reached out and turned off the light, and then slid into the bed next to her.

We were on the seventeenth floor and the city lights from far below played patterns of soft light onto the ceiling.

She was quiet, and I wondered what was on her mind.

"So, what should we talk about?" I asked quietly.

"What do you normally talk about in the dark with your friends?" she asked.

"Sex." I giggled. "But I'm not sure I'm ready to hear about whatever it is you and dad do in your bedroom."

"You can't hear us." She said. "That was the whole point of building that soundproof bedroom down in the basement."

"Holy shit Mom." I said with a laugh.

"I'm not kidding." She laughed. "I tend to be a moaner and your dad was certain that you kids would grow up thinking the house was haunted."

"Well now I'm convinced it is." I said. "By sex perverts. I may never be able to go into the basement again."

We giggled together in the dark, and it reminded me of being with a girlfriend and talking about sex late into the night.

"Is sex what you wanted to talk about?" I asked her.

"Now that you mention it..." she started, and then trailed off. She seemed serious now.

"Yes?" I prompted her.

"Is he nice to you?" she asked me softly.

"Who?" I asked back.

"Whoever the guy is you shaved your pussy bald for." She replied.

I lay there in the dark stunned, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out what to say.

"What makes you think I did it for somebody?" I asked.

"The amount of semen stains I found in your panties when I did your laundry." She told me. "And they were in all three pairs I saw, I can only imagine that the small sample I saw is the tip of the iceberg."

"Oh. Well yeah." I said. "He's nice to me."

"Aside from the wear and tear on your underwear." She said. "You know you'll never get that washed out completely. We'd better buy you some more before we head home tomorrow."

"In his defense," I giggled, "I don't think he spends much time thinking about my underwear Mother."

"Probably not." She agreed. "Men are apt to spend as little time thinking as possible. If we're talking about this though I do have another question. If can pry just a bit more into your private life."

"Sure." I said. "Go ahead. If you embarrass me, I'll just ask you something embarrassing about you and Dad."

"You just go on ahead and try." She laughed. "I'll tell you so much about my love life that you'll go sleep in the car."

The truth was that I would have loved to hear more about their sex life. Not because they were family either. Because talking about, hearing about, and thinking about sex preoccupied a lot of my time.

This conversation had already turned me on in a weird way.

If she wanted to talk about sex, I'd be happy to sit and listen.

But I kept that to myself.

"Ask away then." I told her.

"Will we ever be meeting this mystery sharer of sperm?" she asked.

"I don't think so." I answered. "It's mostly just a learning and exploration thing."

I wondered if the question had been as nonchalant as it seemed.

Was she fishing for his identity or was she as accepting of my no longer virginal status as she seemed?

She'd always been pretty open about sex and hadn't particularly encouraged me to be ashamed or bashful about it.

But still, I'd instinctively hid my sexual exploration from her.

I'd rarely gotten into trouble by staying quiet.

"Well, we all need one of those." She said. "Did you learn everything you wanted to?"

"I guess so." I said. "I learned a lot. That's for sure."

"It'll probably take you a few more years to learn everything you want to know." She said. "That's usually how it works."

"Might be a fun few years then." I said.

My eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, and I was watching her as we talked. She was staring the ceiling, but I saw her smile.

"As long as you know how to pleasure yourself." She said. "Then the next few years of your sex life are going to be pretty fun."

"I thought the whole point of having sex was so I'd have somebody there to provide the pleasure?" I asked her.

"Oh Tiffany," she said, "pleasure from a partner is often the best pleasure there is, but it can only build on what you already know about yourself."

"I never really thought of it that way." I said.

"Oh sure." She said. "The person who taught me to explore myself did me the biggest sexual favor that I've ever experienced."

"The person?" I asked. "I assume you don't mean Dad?"

"No." she said. "Not your father. Just a good friend."

"Maybe I need a friend like that." I said softly.

"Friendships like that are rare." She said. "But I trusted her, and she helped me to learn about my own body."

"She?" I blurted out.

My mother giggled.

"Your generation didn't invent bisexuality Tiffany." She said.

"I know that." I said. "I just never thought that you would have done something like that."

"Well I did." She said. "She was a single mother I met her college. She tutored me in exchange for some babysitting. One night we were talking, and she figured out that I wasn't enjoying sex as much as I should have been."

"And?" I asked discarding my feigned indifference.

"And she showed me some things." She said quietly. "She helped me try some things."

She looked over me in the darkened room. I held eye contact and felt my heart beating a bit faster.

I was suddenly warm and pushed the covers down on the bed. Talking about sex usually had this effect on me, but I tried to remind myself that I was with my mother.

Of course, we were both naked in bed, lying next to each other in a dark hotel room. These were not normal circumstances, and my body was responding to them.

"Some things?" I whispered.

"Yes." She giggled. "And I had the best orgasms of my life up to that point. And I'm sure it's because she knew her way around my body better than I did at the time."

She reached over and took my hand, and once again I was vividly aware that I was laying naked in the dark with someone, and we were now making skin to skin contact. Even if it was just our hands.

And the fact that it was my own mother didn't keep my body from responding.

"Well how do you know that an orgasm is the best it can be?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but failing.

"Because of the two moments." She said.

"Two moments?" I repeated.

"Yes." She said. "Everything that happens after the first moment makes it one of the best. And when the second moment is there, if you're aware of it, and able to stay aware of it, then you can experience true sexual perfection."

"What are the two moments?" I asked.

We were still holding hands, and as weird as it should have been, it wasn't. In that moment it seemed to be the most natural thing in the world.

She turned her head and looked at me from eight inches away.

"Are you sure you're comfortable talking to me about this?" she asked softly.

I nodded my head.

"The first moment I'm referring to occurs when you realize that an orgasm is definitely going to happen." She said. "When you're playing with someone, there's a period of time where you're aroused, but not enough to cum."

I nodded my head, knowing what she meant.

"If he starts to fuck you then, it might feel good, but you won't necessarily orgasm." She went on. "That's not always bad of course. Sometimes it's very nice to make love, even if you don't cum."

"But the moment I'm talking about happens when you suddenly realize that not only do you want to orgasm, but that it's definitely going to happen if you keep going, whether someone is licking you or fucking you or touching you." She said.

"Okay." I said. "That makes sense. I guess."

The truth was that I wasn't really sure.

I'd orgasmed while having sex. Not as good as the orgasms I sometimes caused myself to have. But I'd definitely felt some intense pleasure and a nice release of tension.

However, I hadn't ever experienced a moment like she was talking about when I realized that it would for sure happen.

Usually I wasn't sure I was going to cum until it was happening.

"The second moment," she continued, "is the moment right after your orgasm has arrived, but before it's started. Those delicious few moments when you feel suspended in the air, like you're going to fall but haven't started to yet."

I felt my forehead wrinkle as I tried to associate a sexual sensation I knew with that feeling.

"Have you ever had an orgasm like that Tiffany?" she asked me.

"I don't think so." I said. "I mean I think I've had orgasms, but I'm not sure if they've felt that way."

"You'd know if you had." She said. "Once I had my first real orgasm I knew for sure what all the fuss was about."

"So maybe I had one, but not a real one?" I asked.

"Oh you've likely felt something like an orgasm." She said. "A pleasurable tremor as your body gets closer to orgasm. But maybe you just haven't gotten close enough to the edge yet."

"How will I know when that happens?" I asked softly.

"Oh you'll know my dear." She said with a smile. "When it happens you'll know."

"How will it happen?" I asked. "What should I do?"

"Well what have you tried so far?" she asked. "What makes you feel good sexually?"

"I like kissing." I said. "A lot. That's probably the thing that really gets me in the mood. If I kiss long enough my nipples ache and my panties get wet."

At that moment my panties would have been wet, if I'd been wearing any. But since I was naked my arousal was just on my pussy lips. I was trying not to move so I didn't leak.

As for my nipples, the only thing that I could think of that would relieve the ache they felt was to rub them, but I wasn't bold enough to do that in front of my mother.

If she saw how stiff they were I hoped she'd think that it was because of the cool air in the room.

Even though it still felt awful warm to me.

"That's a good start." She said. "Do you like your nipples played with?"

She glanced at my breasts, and I knew she could plainly see how erect they were.

"Not really." I said. "I mean it feels good when he licks them, but not when he bites or grabs them."

"Typical man." She said. "He's not taking time to get your body ready by making sure your nipples feel good."

"He always asks if I want him to do more." I said. "But I always tell him it's okay because when he does more, they just get sore."

"So it's not all his fault." She said. "It's yours too. If you don't know what you need you can't tell him. And if you can't tell him he can't do it. And if he doesn't do it, then you're not going to feel all that you're capable of feeling."

"So if I let him play with my breasts longer that will help me have better orgasms?" I asked.

"If he plays with them the right way," she said, "it will definitely help your body get ready for a better orgasm."

"So what's the right way?" I asked her. "What should he do?"

"Maybe I'm not the best person for you to have this conversation with." She said. "Because it's not really something I can describe."

"How did you figure it out then?" I asked her.

"My friend showed me." She said.

"You....you watched her?" I asked, curious lust pulsing within me.

"She showed me by demonstrating." She whispered. "On me."

"Did it help you?" I asked softly, unwilling to acknowledge what I was hoping for.

"It did." She admitted.

"She made love to you?" I asked, so softly I wasn't sure she heard me.

"Are you sure you want to talk about this?" she asked me.

"I am." I said. "If you are. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Eventually." Mom said. "Eventually she and I made love. But first we just sort of....shared some things. We talked. We held each other."

"Like you and I are doing now?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact," she said, "yes, it started like this."

"Her demonstrating?" I asked. "On you?"

She squeezed my hand.

"I was curious about the way she described orgasms." Mom said. "And she said it was easier to feel than to explain."

"I want to feel it like that." I said. "I want to feel them the way you describe them."

"I want you to feel those things too Tiff." She said. "But I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"I love you Mom." I said. "I know you wouldn't hurt me."

"I love you too Tiff." She whispered.

She pulled my hand and just like that our bodies were pressed together.

She felt hot and smooth against me, and I closed my eyes as I felt her mouth on my neck, lightly licking with her tongue.

Her hand slid up my belly and rested just under my breast.

I gasped as I felt her finger begin to trace soft patterns around my areola.

"Does that feel good?" she whispered.

"Yes." I said, my voice trembling.

"Better than usual?" she asked, her breath warm and sensual on my ear.

"Oh my god yes." I panted.

"Good." She said.

She shifted in the bed and suddenly her mouth was on my breast, kissing my nipple softly and then pulling on it with her lips and flicking at it with her tongue.

"Oh Mom," I groaned, pressing against her, "it's so good."

Her tongue went flat, and she licked my nipple like she was licking an ice cream cone. She did that for several long minutes, and I felt the room spin as my entire body began to tingle.

Then she licked her fingers and began to slide them back and forth over my nipple and areola, pushing her own hot spit back and forth over my sensitive flesh.

I clenched my thighs together, feeling my earlier arousal multiply as I started to leak wetness along my pussy lips.

I was embarrassed that I was so wet, and at the same time anxious for her to know how much she was arousing me.

I opened my mouth to speak but lost all track of my thoughts when her mouth closed over my other breast.

"Oh Mom yes." I moaned, closing my eyes, and feeling my hips roll against the mattress.

We spent an eternity like that, our bodies pressed closely together, her mouth moving slowly from breast to breast, while her fingers kept tapping and tickling and touching and tracing and fondling whichever one wasn't in her mouth.