tagIncest/TabooMommy Had It Coming

Mommy Had It Coming


As I look back on it; the day I raped my mother for the first time, all those years ago, she got exactly what she deserved.

It was 1976, I was eighteen and I was had just graduated from high school; Mom was in her forties and was showing her age.

Mom was divorced; Dad had gone out for cigarettes one day and had simply never returned, leaving her with a three-year-old son and five-year-old daughter. Mom worked as a secretary for a prestigious law firm in the city, leaving for work early in the morning and returning exhausted in the evening with only enough energy left to scoff down her dinner and then fall asleep on the couch in front of the TV. This was one of the catalysts in the events that led up to her rape.

Mom had to dress appropriately for her job; a strict dress code was enforced. As a legal secretary she was required to wear a suit or a skirt-blouse-blazer combination, heels and hosiery; this was the Seventies so pantsuits were forbidden for professional women, skirts were short and makeup was heavy. Pantyhose had replaced stockings for most women, and although a lot of men complained, women liked the convenience of pantyhose and I liked the look of sheer nylon encasing a woman's legs up to the very top of her thighs.

Sometimes Mom was so tired she didn't even bother to take off her jacket or high-heels. Inevitably she would be lying on the lounge snoring within a few minutes of getting home from work, and inevitably her skirt would ride up. I would sit across from her for hours looking up her skirt at her nylon encased legs, the gossamer hose stretched taut around her fat thighs. Sometimes she would get uncomfortable or agitated and fumble around on the couch until she was comfortable again and her skirt would ride right up so high on her hips that I had an unobstructed view of her pantyhosed legs and knickers.

Mom always wore full-cut knickers over her sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose; like it was part of her own dress code. The colour of her panties varied from day to day but they were always nylon or satin, always full-cut, and always worn over her sheer-to-the-waist-pantyhose. Mom's pantyhose were mostly flesh toned; varying from nearly-nude, to taupe, to suntan; rarely she would wear light grey hosiery to match a dark suit; but she never wore black or any other colours and she never wore patterned hosiery or those awful ribbed tights that some women resorted to in the cold of winter.

I was late reaching pubity and had only just started to get erections; the erections mostly came on when I looked up mommy's skirt as she lay snoring on the lounge. I didn't know what was going on with me; and as I didn't have a Dad and was a loner at school, I had no one to talk to about sex. I decided to ask my sister if she knew what was happening to me. She was a year older than me and worked at K-Mar. K-Mart had a dress code and she wore short A-line skirts and pantyhose to work every day. She was lying on her bed reading some inane teen girl magazine when I went in to her room to ask her about these strange feelings I was getting, and about this strange thing that kept happening to my penis. Her skirt had ridden up and I could see her hosed thighs and the Vee of her panties; I stood there mesmerised by the sight; an erection growing in my pants. She saw me looking up her skirt and picked up the nearest thing at hand and threw it at me telling me that I was disgusting; just like all the boys that she knew, and to get out of her room.

As I slammed the door behind me I realised that what she had thrown at me was a pair of her pantyhose balled up with a pair of her panties. The hose and knickers had been discarded on the floor beside her bed waiting for someone to get the energy to put them in the laundry hamper, neither my sister nor my mother were much when it came to housekeeping. I was too ashamed to open the door and throw them back at her, even though I was angry and I wanted to; but I just cowered on down to the bathroom and threw them in the laundry hamper. I closed the door to the bathroom and stood at the toilet and opened my flies. My erection was uncomfortable in my underpants and it was difficult for me to get my penis out of my flies.

I tried to pee but it wouldn't come out because my penis was so hard. It pointed straight out in front of me, six inches of sleek hard flesh with an angry red knob on the end. For the first time I noticed that there was clear liquid oozing from the end of my cock. I looked for something to wipe it away and of course that there was no toilet paper; another tribute to my mother's housekeeping skills. I reached behind me and rummaged in the laundry hamper for a pair of my underpants to wipe the clear substance from the end of my penis. Inadvertently I picked up my sister's pantyhose and panties and wiped them across the head of my cock.

I almost collapsed with the intensity of the waves of pleasure that shot though my body. The feel of the sheer nylon against the sensitive glans of my engorged penis was exquisite. This was the first time that I ever realised how lovely the feel of nylon could be. I extricated the panties from the scrunched up pantyhose and bought them to my face. I felt the satin panties caress my face and smelt the faint aroma of my sister's vagina in the crotch.

My cock was now throbbing and I lowered the pantyhose back down to it. I opened the hose and pulled one leg over my cock and started to slowly rub the fabric against my erection. The feeling of the gossamer nylon of my sister's pantyhose on the nerve endings of my erect member was wonderful. With my left hand I gathered up the rest of the silky garment and began to slowly massage my scrotum. My thoughts drifted to the sight of my sister lying on the bed with her skirt rucked up; and then suddenly my thoughts shifted and I locked onto a scene from last night; my mother lying on the couch with her skirt hitched high up on her thighs. As I slid the diaphanous hosiery up and down my cock I imagined that I was sliding my cock up and down my mother's silken encased calves.

This went on for about thirty seconds before the most exciting and sensual feelings that I had ever experienced in my short life shot though my body and I experienced my first ever orgasm. I was so overcome with pleasure that I nearly fainted and I fell against the bathroom wall; my cock wrapped in my sister's hosiery with her panties against my face, inhaling her musk, shooting my first ever emission into her nylons.

After a few minutes my breathing returned to normal and my head had cleared enough for me to realise what had just happened. I had heard the other boys at school talk about "wanking" and "coming" and "spunk" and it dawned on me what had occurred. I had just experienced my first orgasm!

What I had never heard the other boys talk about however, was anything to with sexual feelings about their Moms or their sisters and even more importantly feelings about their Moms and sisters panties or nylons. I knew that what I had just experienced was something special that was best kept to myself. I cleaned myself up with a facecloth and stuffed my sister's knickers and pantyhose in my pockets and went and hid them in my room. When my sister asked me about them later I told her that I had threw them in the rubbish for spite because she had thrown them at me. I was careful to never bring up the subject again.

And so it went for the next few months; Mom's arse got wider and her thighs got fatter but she still wore those business suits with the short skirts, nylons and high-heels and far too much makeup. On the rare occasion that she spoke to me or we had anything like intimate contact (a birthday hug or pat on the head for passing an exam) she reeked of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke. She was doing it tough; I knew that. Sometimes I would listen to her talking on the phone to my aunt; telling her about how hard she worked and how the guys at work hit on her because she was a divorcee. She hinted that she might have given in to one or two of the senior partners in the firm to try and advance her career but she stayed in the same shitty job, working the same shitty hours, getting the same shitty wage.

And most evenings I would sit in the same shitty chair looking up her skirt as she snored on the couch, having fallen asleep in front of re-runs of American TV shows such as Star Trek or Sonny and Cher or BBC offerings such as Thunderbirds or The Avengers. I had no time for such inane distractions as they flickered on our small black and white TV; I stared in concentration at my mother's nylon encased legs, examining how her hose wrinkled behind her knees; staring at her painted toenails eclipsed by the reinforced toes of her pantyhose; at how the nylon stretched taut around her heavy thighs and glistened in the dim light of the TV. I studied her panties when she offered me a view, they were often frayed at the waist or leg-holes, but they were always clean, the satin material contrasting with her flesh-toned nylons.

I liked the way Mom wore her knickers over her nylons; the vivid colours of her panties contrasting against her hosiery; it was like it was her only way to rebel against the work dress code was to wear gaudy underwear. I sometimes wondered if she wore a matching bra but to be honest I never really got excited by her tits; they were big of course, Mommy was a large lady, and on the very rare occasion that I got a hug, they felt nice and squishy, but my focus never really shifted from her legs and arse. The sight of her full-cut knickers pulled tight against her crotch over the gusset of her sheer pantyhose kept me captivated for hours.

And so it went on; I would stare at my Mommy's legs and arse for hours until I couldn't take it any more and my throbbing cock begged for release and then I would lock myself in my bedroom and masturbate into my sister's nylons. By now they were laddered and holed and had become crusty with dried semen, but I never thought of washing them; they were my talisman. Likewise her panties were now semen-encrusted and fraying, but they too remained unwashed. I kept them behind a loose board under my bed and I sometimes worried that the smell of soaked-in semen would give away my hiding place, but Mom had little time for housework and certainly had no interest in cleaning my room. I never stole another pair of my mom's or my sister's underwear, I remained faithful to the garments that had inspired my first orgasm.

I spent my weekday evenings sitting in the same chair staring up my mother's skirt pretending I was watching TV, but I didn't really have to worry about being caught. We never had visitors during the week. My sister had dropped out of school to follow a career as a checkout-chick at K-Mart, giving blow jobs to garage-band rock stars on the weekends. She wore short A-line skirts, platform shoes and too much makeup; she was a well known slut but she didn't care about her reputation as long as she had enough money for cigarettes, makeup and clothes and had the latest 'it' guy hanging off her arm. K-Mart because they had just started opening during the evenings and my sister worked long shifts; taking as much overtime as she could get. After work she would be off with her current boyfriend and it was not unusual for me not to see her for days at a time. Even when we did see each other we seldom spoke; she thought of herself as a 'sophisticated woman of the world' and I was the gawky, pimply-faced nerd; who wore cheap, thrift-store clothes and had no friends.

One day in December I was in K-Mart. The week before my sister had proudly told Mom that she had been promoted from cashier to 'floor walker' and that she had her own section in the store to attend to; she was perched at the top of a ladder fixing Christmas decorations to the ceiling. My English teacher, a fat balding man in his late fifties, was pretending to look at a display of inane knickknacks whilst furtively looking up my sister's skirt; stroking his cock though his trouser pocket. He was sweating profusely, his eyes locked up my sister's skirt, and I watched him gasp and splutter as his hand furiously worked away inside his pocket until a wet stain darkened the material at the front of his trousers. He looked around and then surreptitiously reached for his handkerchief and dabbed at the wet spot and then adjusted his jacket to cover the stain before sneaking away red-faced and self-conscious. I glanced up at my sister and saw that she was watching my English teacher walk away; she was grinning to herself in a smug self-satisfied way.

It was the following week that I raped my Mother.

My sister had taken her Christmas holidays and had gone away for the week with her latest boring boyfriend and I faced a lonely existence for the next few weeks, at home alone, a gawky, inadequate teenager with no friends, living in a house devoid of warmth or affection. I was still a virgin and except for my nightly masturbation ritual, I had no means of sexual gratification. I possessed a single stroke magazine; pictures of a large, heavily made up, middle-aged woman dressed in a corset, knickers, stockings and high-heels, staring at the camera with a false expression of lust on her face as she posed legs akimbo on a ratty bed. I sometimes looked at these pictures as I spent my seed into my sister's crusty hosiery; but mostly I recalled the image of my mother asleep on the lounge, her skirt hiked up, with her fat nyloned thighs spread apart as she snored the evening away.

Mom came home drunk from the office Christmas party. She was dressed in a navy-blue business suit with a white satin blouse. The hem of her skirt rested about six inches above her knees, she was wearing sheer taupe pantyhose and I noticed one leg had a small ladder that had started at her ankle and ran up her calf, stopping just short of her knee. She was heavily made up with red lipstick and blue-green eyeshadow; her eyes were heavily lined and mascaraed and her cheeks were rouged. She reeked of cheap perfume and alcohol. Mom was going to fat; the material of her skirt was stretched tight around her thighs and buttocks and the buttons on her blouse bulged around her breasts.

I had prepared our dinner, the usual stodgy meat and three veg, which she scoffed down each evening in silence before adjourning to the couch. I realised that Mom was drunk and my sister was away; I would never get a better opportunity to make my fantasy come true. Mom went to the hallway closet to put away her jacket, her high-heels clattering on the wooden floor as she drunkenly rambled on about how one of the partners had put his hand up her skirt at the party and what did he think she was; some kind of office slattern just because she was divorced! This was the most that Mom had spoken to me for over a month.

I quickly made my way to the bathroom and rummaged around in the medicine cabinet. There they were; extra strength sleeping tablets. As if Mom needed anything to put her to sleep! I ground four of them up into a fine powder using the back of a spoon and mixed them into the mashed potato on Mom's dinner plate.

As usual we sat in silence as she gobbled down her dinner and then she retired to the couch and switched the TV channel to some mindless game show. She kicked off her high-heels and lay down on the couch and was fast asleep in five minutes. I double locked all of the doors and closed the blinds and curtains. I turned off the ceiling light fixture, and turned up the brightness of the table lamp next to Mom's couch. I shook Mom vigorously for a good minute or two and yelled at her to wake up. She was in a deep coma-like sleep.

I stripped naked and sat in my chair looking at my Mom. Her makeup was smeared across her chubby face and her skirt was hitched way above her knees just covering the tops of her thighs. Her nylons glistened in the lamplight and I couldn't wait any longer. I walked over to the couch and caressed her leg, I stroked the diaphanous nylon where it wrinkled at the back of her ankle and with my finger I followed the run in her stocking up to the top of her calf. My cock was rock hard and leaking drops of clear pre-seminal fluid.

I picked up her foot and nestled my cock in the reinforced nylon covering her toes; I slid my cock back and forth delighting in the sensation of the silky nylon against my cock. I knew that I would climax soon but I didn't care. I was a young healthy male and I could come three times in an hour, no problems. I reached out and pulled Mom's skirt all the way up so that it was rucked up around her waist. I had to lift her fat arse to get at the skirt and for the first time I realised how heavy my Mom was. I had planned to fuck her and then undress her, put her in her nightgown and then put her in bed, hoping that she wouldn't remember how she got there because of all the booze she had drank. I quickly realised there was no way I was going to be able to move her off that couch by myself. Well fuck her! She was getting fucked anyway; hang the consequences!

I sat down in my chair again to look at my Mom as I had arranged her on the couch. She lay on her back with her legs spread wide; her sheer pantyhose glistened in the lamplight, she was wearing bright red satin full-cut knickers over the gusset of her sheer-to-waist pantyhose. The leg-holes and waistband of her panties were a little frayed with age and there was a little hole at the waist through which a bubble of her pale, nylon-encased skin bulged. Her thighs were so fat that they came together at the top. When she walked there was the distinct swishing sound as her nyloned thighs rubbed together and because of this I couldn't see the crotch of her panties but the front panel of her panties made a lovely V-shape, the satin taunt and tight against her lower belly.

Her skirt was rucked up around her waist; the silk lining was coming away from the material of the skirt. Our pitiable financial state was manifested in Mom's clothing when you looked at her closely; but I held no pity for her. Her silk blouse was half unbuttoned and I could see that she was wearing a matching red satin bra, also slightly frayed, but her fat white tits held no interest for me. A silver pendant on a necklace nestled between her breasts and matching earrings adorned her ears. Her hair was cut in a fashionable black bob; she did was not skimp when if came to her coiffeur; and her face, once pretty, resembled a slattern because of her heavy makeup.

I walked over to the couch, my erection bobbing up and down in front of me and lay down on top of my Mother.

Her breath reeked of alcohol and the dinner she had eaten; I looked down at her red lipsticked lips and I lowered my face onto hers and kissed her on the lips. Her lips tasted of lipstick and the feel of her fully clothed body against my naked body was highly arousing. I rubbed my turgid penis against her nyloned legs; the feeling of her diaphanous hosiery against my cock was exhilarating.

I mashed my lips on hers and forced my tongue into her mouth. My Mom lay there on the couch unable to respond, unaware that I was ravishing her. I positioned my cock in the Vee of her fat silken thighs and pushed it against her panty covered pussy and then started to slowly thrust against her. I then eased my cock between the satin gusset of her panties and the gossamer thin nylon of her sheer to the waist pantyhose covering her pussy. My cock was caressed between her satin panties and her hot pantyhose-covered cunt.

I continued to kiss my mother as I humped her panty crotch, my cock was like a living thing; the sensation was so magnificent, better than anything I ever felt when masturbating. I could feel the outline of my Mom's pussy lips through the nylon hose and I adjusted myself so that my cock was nestled in her vulva. My pre seminal fluid was lubricating the nylon so I couldn't tell if Mom was aroused or not but she continued to lie there unresponsive.

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byMicheleNylons© 17 comments/ 326647 views/ 71 favorites

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