tagIncest/TabooMiss You Mom

Miss You Mom


"Miss you mom!"

I dashed off that text just before leaving the cafeteria to head to my last Thursday class. American Literature. As I walked the bustling sidewalk of my college campus I was not surprised by the instant ping of her reply.

"Miss you too, Trev." The content of its follow-up, however, was unexpected. "Crazy thought. Would you hate it if I came and visited this weekend?"

"Of course not," I replied without hesitation. "Dad coming too?"

"He has a work thing," she wrote. "Just me this time."

There was no question as to any of the logistics. In my first two years of college, my folks had visited a handful of times and we'd established a routine. There was an affordable and surprisingly nice "Lodge" in the middle of town from which everything was walking distance. I knew she'd check in there before 5 and text me the room number. I also knew to pack an overnight bag. It was our new tradition to recreate our beloved "fun nights" of childhood on these visits. I'd spend the night with them and we'd eat ice cream and watch hotel movies.

"I'm here," she texted like clockwork. "117."

"See you soon!" I wrote back.

I reached her room a short time later and tossed my bag on one of the 2 queen beds, then we went to eat where we always ate - the steak house my dad loved. Though my mom's joy at seeing me was pretty much the same as always, as we shared our meal I detected a change in her. The two glasses of wine she drank were also different, and an indication that something was a little "off."

"Is everything okay, mom?" I asked as the waiter cleared our table.

"Actually, Trevor, not exactly."

She proceeded to tell me with characteristic kindness and restraint that my father, her husband of 24 years, had fallen in love with another woman and that the two of them were getting divorced.

"Man, Mom, that's horrible," I said sincerely. "Are you okay?"

"If I'm being honest, I'm kind of relieved. Our marriage had become pretty...lifeless. We just stopped loving each other. Do you mind if I get one more glass of wine?" she asked, not waiting for an answer as she waved down the waiter.

Back in the room, she was her cheerful self again. Tipsy, funny, a little giddy that I was committed to our new tradition of the travel lodge hang night, even in my father's absence, she changed in the bathroom. I pushed off my jeans and replaced them with sweat shorts, and kept on the pocket T I'd worn to dinner.

She emerged dressed similarly to me though her shorts were skimpier than mine, and her T a bit tighter. It was pretty much impossible not to notice how great she looked. She'd been young when she had me so she was still in her early 40s, but she looked, I don't know, 25 or something. Her legs were toned and tan, and her figure just seemed kind of perfect in an hourglass sort of way. The fact that she had her dirty blond hair pulled back into a ponytail added to her youthful appearance.

"Man, mom," I blurted. "Is it okay for me to say you look amazing?"

She beamed her reply.

"That, my friend, is always okay!"

"You could fit right in on campus! You look like a sorority girl."

My surprise-filled night continued when she reached into her travel bag and pulled out a pint of whiskey.

"I promise I am not becoming a lush, Trev," she said. "But I am really just needing to unwind tonight. You want a slug?"

Before I could answer, she filled the 2 clear sink glasses and handed me one. I sipped from it eagerly. Before I could suggest a movie, she sat on her bed, Indian style, and looked expectantly at me as if we were girls at a slumber party. Suddenly she jumped up.

"Be honest," she said. "What is my worst feature, physically?"

It was then I realized she was drunker than I thought.

"I just told you how good you look."

"Fuck that," she stammered, stunning me with the first f-bomb I had ever heard from her in my entire life. I blurted out laughing.

Whoa," I chuckled, "who are you and what have you done with my mother."

"Seriously, Trev, I am tired of niceties."

"Niceties" I interjected sarcastically. "Did you really just say niceties?"

"Fuck you," she slurred, on a funny roll. "Tell me what's wrong with me. She cupped her breasts through her T-shirt. "Are these things not big enough? Not firm enough? 34C. That's a nice size, right?"

"Mom," I practically yelled. "Stop!"

She laughed at my discomfort.

"Can't we just be totally real with each other?" she asked. "You're kind of my only male friend."

"I'm your son," I corrected.

"Whatever. You're a guy. You know guy things. I need some truth telling here, mister. What's my worst feature?"

"You don't have a worst feature," I said truthfully. "You are pretty much flawless."

"Stop being nice," she chided, turning. "Is it my ass? Is my ass too big."

Before I could help myself, I found myself really considering. There I was, a 20-year old guy, sipping whiskey with my mom and contemplating the size of her ass.

"Nope, not even a little. I'm not kidding or being nice or anything. You have a seriously amazing body. Perfectly proportioned. All of my friends in high school called you Hot Mom. That was your nickname."

I finished my whiskey and walked to the dresser for more.

"Really?" she asked, taken aback. "So I was Hot Mom? Your dad sure didn't seem to think so. He hadn't touched me, or even looked at me, in, longer than I care to say."

"Wow," I answered, feeling buzzed myself now as I returned to my bed. "He was kind of an idiot then."

This got a laugh. She did one more spin for me, then looked at me coyly over her shoulder.

"But you're sure I look okay?" she asked. "I can feel confident as I head back out onto the playing field?"

"You are a knockout, Mom."

"Thank you."

A silence suddenly filled the room, accompanied by a new tension. She finally diffused it, forcing her way back to normalcy, or trying to, at least.

"So what movie are we going to watch?"

We settled on something with spies and explosions, but nothing could erase the new sense I had, a new view of her, as a woman, and not just my mother. When the movie ended and our whiskeys were gone, she hit the light and whispered good night.

"Thanks for letting me vent a little," she said softly in the dark. "I needed it."

"Can I tell you something weird?" I asked.


"It's about my high school friends. They really did call you that, by the way. Hot Mom."

"That's nice," she purred happily. "That makes me feel good."

"One night at a party, I was outside with Toby taking a leak."

When I didn't continue right away she prodded.


"Well, he was really drunk and started talking about you."

"Saying what?" she asked eagerly.

"He said...and I quote...I jerk off every I night thinking about your fucking mom."

This startled her. She laughed.


"He said you were better than any porn he had ever seen."

"High praise indeed."

"Just thought you might like to hear that for some strange reason," I added.

"You thought right, Trev. Thanks." After a comfortable pause she said, "Do you like porn?"

"Excuse me?" I asked. "Are you sure you want to know that?"

"Like I said, I am tired of nice. Pretend I am a guy friend. I want to know how guys really think."

"I can only speak for me."

I went quiet. She waited, then blurted, "Just tell me. Do you watch porn?"

"Yes," I said. "Of course."

"Actually," she offered, "as the person who did your laundry I guess I knew that. Those socks got a little sticky toward the end of High School."

"Sorry," I said, both embarrassed and thrilled by our conversation.

"Don't be. That's what moms are for."

Another long pause and then she said, "Keep going. Tell me more. What do you like?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she replied. "Come on. What...gets you off?"

"Really?" I asked. "You are really asking me what porn I use to get myself off?"

"Yes. Be specific. Answer these two questions. When was the last time you masturbated to porn and what exactly were you watching in your moment of truth?"

"Are you sure you want to hear this stuff?" I asked, still fighting my shyness.


"Okay. I masturbated this morning right after I woke up. I grabbed my iPhone and just started looking at stuff."

She waited.

"The clip that I settled on was of this woman..."

"What did she look like?" she interjected. "Use your dumb guy words."

"She had blond hair, big tits..."

"Bigger than mine?"

"A little. What I liked about the clip was that it seemed real, not staged, like most porn. She was talking with a friend on the phone about plans for the weekend or whatever and her husband walked over to her and got her attention. She looked at him but kept talking and he said he was horny and going to go jack off. She somehow got his dick out and started stroking it and then he managed to get her big tits free and started fucking her tits as she talked...and before long he started cumming all over her tits and she asked her friend on the phone to hold on for a second and she set it down until he finished, kind of laughed at him, and cleaned herself up. I don't know why but I loved it."

"I get it," she said, sounding different, her voice kind of airy and farther away. "That's hot. So you came as he came?"

"Yes. I almost always do that. Time it that way."

"Wow," she said. "I love knowing that, Trevor. Thanks for sharing."

With that, our conversation faded and we drifted to sleep, or at least I did. Later, I awakened in the pitch black of the night and heard soft whimpering coming from her bed. At first, I thought that she was crying but then I noticed the subtle movement under the sheets and realized what was happening. My mom wasn't sad, she was horny. She wasn't crying, she was cumming. I pretended to sleep, confused by the hard-on that refused to subside.

The next day was beautiful. In the bright light of morning we seemed to shake off the charged energy of our night together. There was no awkwardness or negative residue of any kind. Mom was downright cheerful. We grabbed a late breakfast and did some shopping. When I told her about a party that was happening at the house of a fraternity I was thinking of pledging, she insisted I go.

"I sprang this on you with zero notice," she said. "Stick with your plans. I got you last night."

"How about I go for a while but still crash with you?"

"Sounds perfect," she replied happily. "And if anything changes...like...if you get lucky or anything...don't worry about me."

I reverted to shy son mode and blushed.

I went back to my apartment, showered and changed but my thoughts were never far from room 117, from her. When I reached the party, I instantly set about drinking away this dangerous preoccupation. I finally gave up the fight and went to see her.

It was just before midnight when I knocked on her door. She opened it right away and based on her bright demeanor, had not been sleeping. She wore the same outfit she slept in the night before, and, like then, looked amazing.

"You look so good," I said, slurring more than I meant to.

"Why thank you," she replied.

"I'm drunk. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she replied, pulling me by the arm into the room. "I was the drunk one last night."

The room was more dark than light, only the nightstand lamp was on. I kicked off my shoes, She smiled sweetly as she lifted my shirt over my head.

"Wow," she said, "have you been working out?"

I didn't answer as I clumsily unbuckled my belt and pushed off my jeans. I stood before her, in nothing but my socks and boxer briefs, wavering a little.

"You good?"

"I'm good."

She sat on her bed. I sat on mine. I suddenly realized that I was having great difficulty not looking directly at her tits. I could see her nipples through the thin cloth of her shirt.

"Can I talk to you?" I asked.

"Of course you can," she said. "After last night we are free to say anything."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Of course I'm sure, baby. I am the one wanting truth now. No need for nice. Say what you need to say."

"Remember how you asked me about the porn and stuff..."

"Yes," she replied. "Of course I do. And you were so honest with your answer which I absolutely loved."

"I don't know," I said, suddenly frustrated with myself. "I think there is more I want to share...that no one knows. I'm afraid I'm a freak."

"You're not a freak, Trevor. Whatever it is you're feeling or thinking, I promise its okay. Just talk. Let it all out."

"I fantasize," I said.

"Okay" she replied. "I am pretty sure everyone does that. About who? About what?"

"About the girls in my class mostly."

"Still sounding normal. What do you think about?"

Again I went quiet. I couldn't stop looking at her tits.

She smiled, reached across and laid a hand on my thigh. I twitched at her touch.

"Trevor, look at me."

I forced my gaze up to her eyes.

"We are in a completely safe place here," she assured. "I don't care what you look at. Or what you tell me. Whatever this is, I need it. Just talk to me, baby."

"I want to be mean to them."

"What does that mean? Like, domination?"

"Sort of, but not really. Not like chains and shit."

"Like what then?"

"I want to control them."

"Control them how? Tell me more. Keep talking. Don't think."

"I want to make them my nasty little cum sluts."

"Keep going baby...don't hold back," she hummed. It's all okay."

"I want to make them get down on their knees and I want to pull their fucking hair as I fuck their pretty faces. I want them to show me their tits and their wet slut cunts and to let me do whatever the fuck I want to them. And I want to fucking douse their pussies and their faces and their tits and their hot fucking asses with my massive cum loads."

Before I even knew what was happening, she reached a hand down the front of her shorts and her eyes went half-lidded. She panted and moaned as she frigged herself frantically and got herself off right in front of me.

"Fuck," she said a moment later. "That was the hottest fucking thing I've ever heard."

"Really?" I replied, still amazed.

"Absolutely. And totally normal, Trevor. I wish your father had once talked to me that way. I would have felt like I'd died and gone to heaven. Lots of women love men who feel and act and think that way. I promise."

Suddenly, I was overtaken by an impulse I could not have fought even if I'd wanted to.

"Show me your fucking tits, Mom," I said calmly, evenly, drunk with lust more than booze now. "I need to see your perfect fucking tits."

My mom went silent, obedient, totally falling into my flow, and lifted her shirt up above her tits.

"Take your fucking shirt off," I spit, and she complied. "You've been wanting me to look at your fucking tits all weekend haven't you, slut?"

She remained silent, unsure.

"Answer me," I barked.


"Yes what?"

"I've been wanting you to look at my fucking tits all weekend."

"And you thought about me sliding my big fucking cock between them as you got yourself off in your bed last night, didn't you?"

Again she hesitated.

"Say it."

"Yes. I did. I rubbed my dirty slut cunt last night thinking about you fucking my big tits like the slut in the porn video."

"Show me," I said. "Show me how you played with yourself. Show me that dripping fucking dirty twat."

She shimmied her shorts to the floor and was naked underneath. Her bush was trimmed into a neat little line and her lips parted as she spread her legs for me.

"Fuck, Mom," I hissed in admiration, instinctively falling to my knees, "your pussy is fucking perfect. Spread your legs further."

She did and I leaned in and dabbed first at her tight little asshole and then along her shimmering pussy lips, savoring this intoxicating forbidden taste.

I grabbed her hand and ran it roughly along her own moisture.

"Taste it," I instructed.

She eagerly complied, lifting her fingers to her mouth and sucking them clean as I burrowed into her hot cunt and fucked her with my nose, my lips, my tongue, my chin...peeling her apart with my fingers. Before she could cum I stood.

"Suck my cock," I said meanly.

Eagerly, she pulled down my boxer briefs and lit up at the sight of my hard on, which bobbed and dripped inches from her face.

"Open your fucking mouth," I commanded and she did. I yanked her hair hard into tight, twin pigtails and held her head still as I pushed in my cock until the head tickled her throat and she gagged on it. "Yeah, you fucking hungry little slut...gag on that big fucking dick."

I fucked her face roughly as she valiantly tried to suck me. Before I could cum, I got back on my knees and devoured her pussy again, this time allowing the shuddering waves of her bittersweet climax juice to glaze my face and tongue.

"Fuck," she screamed as her whole body held, convulsed, shook and shuddered in spastic release.

As she regained her composure I stood.

"Stand up, mom," I said. She did. "Lick your cum off of my face." She did. She licked slowly along my cheeks and up my chin until her licking turned into passionate kissing as our tongues danced and my hands kneaded her big tits.

When I could take it no longer, I turned her, bent her forward, plunged my throbbing meat into her soaked fuck box and pounded her as she instantly quaked another orgasm and I pulsed an endless load of spunk up into her.

We collapsed onto her bed, and she held me, rocked me. I sucked on her tits and watched as my cum oozed from her pussy.

"Fuck, baby," she said softly. "That was beautiful."

Her words were my awakening and I knew I had been changed forever.

The following evening as I sat failing in my attempt to concentrate on an assignment, I received her text.

The sight of her name in my inbox made me twitch.

The message was simple.

"Miss you, Mom."

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byAckleyPrince© 10 comments/ 102330 views/ 132 favorites

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by Anonymous

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by jaccor01/04/18

Needs More.

While it was a complete story, it also set the stage for more. More please.

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by chytown12/08/17

Good Reading*****

Wow a complete story in a flash format. Good piece of writing. Very entertaining read. Thanks for sharing

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by rightbank12/07/17

They have a lot to learn

About each other

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by Jagnag12/07/17

Drunk n speak free

Surprising what you say n do when drunk ...

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by devildog030212/07/17

Good job

Is there a sequel?

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