Michael Bk. 01 Ch. 02: Discovery

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

Copyright © 2018 Black Jack Steele -- All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means or method without the express permission of the author. Some exceptions may be permitted in the case of brief quotations for the purposes of critical review and other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Michael discovers his mother's secret and finds that the object of his own lust is closer to home than he had thought.

*

"I'm home, Mum," Michael announced as he came through the sliding door into the sunroom. As he did most afternoon, he had come in through the side gate, knowing that the back door would be unlocked. He didn't shout his arrival because no-one ever seemed all that happy to see him.

They lived in a split-level three-bedroom home on a one-thousand-square-metre (quarter-acre) block in a leafy, outer-western suburb of Brisbane; Queensland's capital city. The home was a little over thirty-five years old but had stood the test of time. It had been built when builders used real timber and brick walls were solid brick on both sides.

Michael had lived in this house all his life. His parents had bought it just after they were married and had never had a reason to move away from the area. They had made a few improvements over the years, extending and adding an ensuite and walk-in wardrobe to the master bedroom and, once Michael had learned to swim, installing a pool. The pool was twenty-five-metres, which allowed Michael to knock up many kilometres of lap-time at home, rather than having to have his parents drive him to training every day. One of them had taken him to group training sessions and competition meets, in each of which he swam in the female events under his birth name, Michelle. With the advent of his gender identity crisis, his parents support for his competitive swimming had waned and was another activity that had disappeared down the gurgler.

Michael knew that he was never going to be a swimming superstar so the absence of support didn't bother him all that much, or so he said. What he was really saying was that it was the absence of his parents' support that didn't matter.

Just as he turned to go up to his room to get changed. He met his mother coming down the stairs. She was wearing a short, thigh-length satin wrap and was carrying an empty Champagne bottle. She turned white and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Michael. It appeared that she wasn't sure whether to continue on into the kitchen to get another bottle from the refrigerator -- which was obviously her intention -- or turn around and race back up the stairs.

She was too slow making up her mind. As she stood there, Michael ducked past her and headed up the hall to the master bedroom. With the door open, she saw their next-door neighbour lying in the middle of the bed in all his glory.

"G'day, Uncle Frank," he said. "How's Aunty Edith doing?" They had been neighbours for many years and Frank and Edith had sat for Michael's parents on many occasions; hence the 'uncle' and 'aunty' tags.

Tilting his head back out into the hallway, he yelled, "Thanks for telling me that Dad was going to be away for a while longer, Mum. Why is it that I always have to work these things out for myself?"

'Uncle' Frank reached down and pulled the sheet up over himself.

"Oh, don't be shy, Uncle Frank," he said, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye. "I came across a really big one of those earlier today. It puts that little thing to shame."

"Anyway, it been good talking to you. I suppose I had better leave so you can get dressed.

"Oh, look. You've gone all red around the gills. You shouldn't be embarrassed, Uncle Frank. You're probably not the first and I'm sure you won't be the last. Just a word of warning, however, If I hear anything -- a whisper, a rumour, anything -- about you fucking my mother, I'll not only tell Aunty Edith and my father, I'll come over to your place and practice the skills I have learned from watching the Lorena Bobbitt training videos on you.

"Now I think it might be time for you to leave. In fact, I've changed my mind. I don't think you need to dress before leaving. Just go as you are. If you're not out that door by the count of three, I'll get Dad's old cut-throat razor and start slicing. I don't know when he last sharpened it but I'm sure it will do the job. Now, go!

"One," he was out of the bed and was reaching down for his clothes.

"You haven't got time for that," Michael said as he started for the ensuite to get the razor.

"Two," 'Uncle' Frank scooped up what he could and headed for the bedroom door.

"Don't stop to say goodbye. You haven't got time.

"Three!

"Here I come. Ready or not!"

Michael heard the side gate open and close as he approached the top of the stairs. 'Uncle' Frank would have had to run along the footpath in full view of the other neighbours to get to his own house. It didn't help that his house faced the adjacent street, exposing -- a good word, that -- himself to a whole different part of the neighbourhood.

'Now for Mother,' Michael thought.

As he walked into the kitchen, he saw his mother sitting on one of the barstools, which stood in front of the countertop that divided the kitchen from the sunroom and breakfast nook. Her shoulders were slumped and she had obviously been crying. She looked up as Michael entered the room.

Her face was a mess. She had made herself up for her guest and probably looked like a million dollars when she had first greeted him. 'With her mascara having run the way it has, and her eye-shadow being smudged the way it is,' Michael thought, 'she'd be flat out picking up five bucks for a blowjob.'

'Speaking of blowjobs,' Michael thought, 'what's that in her hair? Oh, my god! What's that on her face? It's certainly not all tears.'

Michael walked over to his mother and reached out to open her wrap. She resisted briefly but soon gave up the struggle. There was more cum on her chin and the same stuff was all over her chest and down over her breasts.

Michael opened her mother's wrap all the way. 'The bastard has shot his load all over her from her neatly-trimmed pussy to the top of her head!' he silently exclaimed.

He was surprised at how well his mother had maintained her figure. Her breasts were full, as one would expect of a woman who had nursed a child, but they remained reasonably firm. 'Probably a 36C,' Michael thought. The large areolae were topped by prominent nipples. Both nipples and areolae sat at the top of each breast, adding to their perkiness. The nipples, Michael noticed, were rock hard and standing to attention. His mother was either very cold or she was highly aroused. He suspected that the latter was the case.

Michael pulled his mother to her feet and pushed the wrap off her shoulders. The satin garment slid down her back and arms, cascading gracefully onto the floor.

Looking down his mother's body, he noted that her waist was trim and her stomach was flat and tight, indicating that she had been working out. Michael remembered that she met up with her friends for fitness training three times each week. The exercise sessions with her girlfriends showed in her hips, which displayed no sign of fat or cellulite.

Her legs also supported Michael's working out theory, indicating that she had spent many hours on the treadmill. They were not only tightly muscled but they were also very shapely; something Michael had never noticed before.

He reached forward and put his hands on his mother's hips. He felt a strong shudder run up his arms and into his body. He also felt his own nipples start to tighten and was surprised to feel a tingling in his groin. He also saw his mother give a slight shiver and, as he glanced up at her face, he saw her eyes shut and her eyelids flutter as her head was thrown up and backwards. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a soft moan escape from her mouth.

Michael turned his mother so that she faced the breakfast bar. As with the other parts of her body, Michael saw that her derriere was as tight and free of the signs of aging as the rest of her body. He let his hands slide down from his mother's hips and rubbed them gently over her buttocks. He heard a sharp hiss escape from his mother's lips. Obviously expecting more, his mother moved her feet apart to allow easier access to the more private parts of her body.

That was not Michael's intention, however. In fact, this had gone a lot further than he had planned. He had really set out to humiliate his mother. Instead, he found he was enjoying the sensual nature of the experience. It was also clear that his mother, rather than being humiliated, had become a participant in what had become an enjoyable erotic escapade.

'Not bad for a thirty-eight-year-old,' Michael thought, as he lifted his hands from his mother's backside and, replacing them on her hips, turned her another one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees to face him. 'Not bad, at all.'

Both mother and daughter/son were the same height and, as they stood facing each other, their eyes met. Both sets of eyes were filled with a strange desire; a desire that transcended the bonds of mother and daughter/son. It was a desire that was more lustful than either of them had ever experienced.

Michael was the first to blink. He released his grip on his mother's hips and took a step back away from her. He needed a bit of distance so he could complete his examination of the woman who stood naked in front of him.

While he had never thought of his mother in the way he had just experienced, he had always recognised her beauty; particularly her facial beauty. He now recognised her as one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her long, naturally-curled, dirty blonde hair flowed down around her face like a curtain of gold. Her forehead was neither too low or too high. Her light hazel, almond-shaped eyes were perfect, as was her beautifully-proportioned straight nose. It was her mouth and lips, though, that set her face apart from the others. She had a slightly wider mouth than many women, which tended to only be noticeable when she smiled her full smile. But the width of her mouth was offset by her lips. Her upper lip formed a narrow but perfectly-shaped Cupid's bow that artists the world over try to emulate. This was set off by a full lower lip of the type that a partner would want to suck into their own mouth. Michael could feel himself becoming wet just thinking about that bottom lip and what he would like to do with it.

Michael told himself that he was blessed to have more of his father's facial features than his mother's. It would be hard for him to declare his maleness with a face as beautiful as hers.

While he might still be young, and he might be a little innocent, Michael wasn't naïve. He had managed to connect to a couple of porn sites on the internet, despite his parents' efforts to prevent it. He had watched men creaming on women. He had watched men creaming in women. He had watched women giving head and deep throating men. He had watched as women had swallowed a man's load. And he had even watched women on women sex. It turned him on and gave him masturbatory stimulation, but it also tended to highlight his inadequacies. Without a penis -- something he was never likely to have -- he felt he would never really be able to satisfy a woman in the way it should be done; in the way that Uncle Frank had been able to satisfy his mother.

But satisfying his mother was not part of Michael's current plan. Rather, his intention was to pay her back for all the years she had ignored him; not just since he had announced his coming out -- if 'coming out' is the correct expressions for when one announces one's gender switch -- but during the years leading up to that day, three years ago, when any vestiges of love that might have existed between the three members of the family were extinguished.

It was that desire to humiliate his mother that was in his mind when Michael reached out and ran his index finger through a streak of cum that was running down his mother's stomach towards her navel. This was a new experience for him. Although he identified as a male, he couldn't ejaculate -- or not that he knew about, anyway -- so he had never felt male sperm. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, finding it thicker and creamier than he would have imagined. It was much thicker than his own vaginal juice, which is all he had as a point of reference.

He went back for more. This time, he used his finger to scoop a large gob of cream from his mother's left breast. He felt a charge of electricity pass between them as he rolled his finger over her nipple. His mother tilted her head back and let out another moan. The thrill of having her daughter -- she still couldn't think of him as her son -- stimulate her nipple went all the way down to her vagina. She knew she was leaking. She could feel her juice running down the inside of her legs.

Michael couldn't help himself, he had to taste this seed-carrying cream. He had tasted his own and loved the blend of flavours it contained, so much so that it had become part of his masturbatory ritual. As soon as his juices were flowing, he would scoop up as much as he could and guzzle it like a hopeless alcoholic with a box of cheap sherry. He only wished he could savour it directly from the source.

He put his cum-filled finger into his mouth and swirled it around as if he was sampling a fine wine. While the first load was still rolling around his tastebuds, he reached out for a second sample. This time, he collected from his mother's other breast, once again scraping the side of his finger over her nipple and across her areola. He felt her shudder and heard her moan. This time, Michael leaned his head in towards his mother's breast and, with his tongue extended to touch the underside of her nipple, scooped the cream into his mouth. He slid his tongue over her nipple before drawing it, and its load of juice into his mouth.

His mother screamed and began to shudder all over. He had tipped her over the brink and into a massive orgasm. She continued to scream as her climax took on a life of its own. It didn't seem to want to stop. Neither did she want it to stop. She had never come from having her nipples teased -- especially with no other contact with her genitals -- and she wanted the moment to continue for as long as was possible.

Michael grabbed her as her legs started to give way and held her to him, both to support her and so he could feel her naked body against him. As the spasms began to diminish, he lifted her over to the barstool and rested her bottom on the front of the seat. He didn't want to let her go but was not strong enough to hold her unaided.

As his mother recovered from her orgasm, Michael stood in front of her with his right leg snugly fitted between his mother's legs, the top of his thigh pressed tightly up against her prominent mons venus, At the same time, his mother had her right leg snugly fitted between his, with the top of her thigh pressed tightly against his pubic mound. When her breathing had returned to normal and she had opened her eyes, Michael leaned in and covered her mouth with his. As her lips parted, Michael inserted the tip of his tongue into the cavity and started rolling it along her teeth. His mother quickly joined the dance and wrapped her tongue around his, tugging on it so both tongues were soon entwined like a pair of mating cobras.

While continuing to kiss his mother, Michael's hands slid down her back and once again started to play with her bottom. He steered one hand across so it could slide down her bum-crack, using that hand to push her tightly against his leg. In the process, his middle finger had found its way to her tightly crinkled anal ring and he was using it to massage her little bud-like entrance. He had no idea what he was doing but whatever it was seemed to lift his mother to another plain of pleasure.

In the meantime, he was grinding his own mound into his mother's leg, humping it in rhythm with their tongues and her reciprocal movements.

At the same time, his mother was undoing the buttons of her daughter's blouse so she could get her hands on her tiny breasts. She had felt her daughter's nipples pressing against her own breasts and had been amazed at how long they were in proportion to her almost invisible mammary bumps. They felt like two steel rods and she wanted to get her lips around them and give them a tongue-lashing. It would be nice to give her daughter some of her own back. She could feel her daughter's finger working around her anus and hoped she would find a way to penetrate that tight little orifice. She'd be loath to admit it openly but she had come to really enjoy anal play.

She was becoming impatient. She had managed to get most of the buttons undone but couldn't reach the two bottom buttons that were attached to the part of the blouse that was tucked into her skirt. With an upward reef, she pulled the blouse out of the skirt and ripped the buttons apart. Next, she pulled the singlet her daughter insisted on wearing up and over her breasts. Finally, the tiny orbs were free. She slid a hand up along her daughter's stomach and scissored one her long nipples between her first and second fingers. It wasn't thick but it was much longer than the thickness of her fingers.

She squeezed the two fingers together and, using the tips of her fingers as leverage points, stretched the nipple as far as it would go.

Michael broke off the kiss and yelled. "Ouch! That hurts, Mum!"

"Nothing like it's going to hurt by the time I have finished with it," his mother said. "This one and its companion are going to be really sore by tomorrow morning; along with a few other parts. I don't think you understand what you started when you sucked that cum off my tits."

With their kiss broken, Michael's mother thought it timely that she should lower her head and suckle on her daughter. 'Turn-a-bout is fair play,' she thought. 'It's only right that I nurse on my daughter's tits after nursing her on mine all those years ago.'

Michael threw his head back and moaned, as he felt his mother's tongue fiddling on his nipple, He didn't know if it was because they were so long, but they were really sensitive when aroused. He had never told a soul but the main reason he wore a cotton singlet under his blouse wasn't for modesty; although that was certainly a consideration. But it was mainly because he enjoyed the feel of the coarsely woven fabric over his nipples. He could feel the juices starting to run from his vagina.

Removing his hands from his mother's derriere, Michael slid out of his blouse and lifted his singlet up over his head. He then reached down and undid the clasps on his skirt and slid the zipper down to allow the skirt to fall to the floor where it laid beside his mother's satin wrap. Finally, he slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his regulation white cotton panties and slid them down over his hips. Without having to bend, he released them and worked his legs to slide them down to the floor. He had often wondered whether boys who were born as boys had such problems. Without having to negotiate over and around the curves and bumps that females developed, he imagined not.

With the exception of his regulation shoes and socks, Michael was now as naked as his mother.

It was his mother who remedied that incongruous situation. She abandoned her titillating and squatted down to untie and remove the offending items of clothing, a job that took her all of about twenty seconds. From her squatting position, she lifted one of Michael's legs and placed his foot on the footrest of the stool upon which she had been seated. She then started to rise, kissing the inside of Michael's leg along the way. By the time she was in a kneeling position, her face was level with Michael's groin and, without warning, she dived in for a taste of her daughter's juices.