Mom's Taboo Wish

"Mmmmmm," she moaned around his shaft. Saliva slid down the sides, making it gleam in the afternoon light. She wanted his cum, needed it, with a hunger that was almost frightening. She reached down with one hand, cupping his balls, and rolled them in her fingers, feeling the wonderful weight. Yes. Big and heavy and fat with her son's seed. Her other hand wrapped around the base of Brendan's shaft, and as her mouth rose towards his tip, she pumped him, almost as if she were pulling his semen out of his body by sheer force.

"Mom," he repeated, his voice higher. What was it? A moan of encouragement? A plea? A warning?

If it was a warning, it was one that was completely unnecessary. She could feel it beginning in the tiny muscles, too small to see, that fluttered beneath her cheek. Feel it as her son's manhood thickened in her mouth, the entire shaft rising as it surged forward. Feel it as Brendan took her hair in her hands and dragged her, unresisting, all the way down his rod, until her mouth was planted at the base, his pubic hair tickling her lips. And taste it when he let go at last, his cum blasting into her mouth and down her throat like an erupting geyser. She swallowed, again and again, hungry for more, her lips and tongue not stopping until his body relaxed under her, going limp and boneless, his chest rising in deep, heavy breaths as his orgasm receded.

She let his length slide out of her mouth cleaning him as she went, so that when he at last fell out, striking the flat of his belly with a meaty slap, he was as clean as if he had just stepped out of the shower. She raised up on one knee and spun in place, draping her body over his, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

"Thank you, sweetie," she whispered, leaning in for a kiss. She caught the almost invisible flinch, and settled for a quick peck on the cheek.

Young men. He's going to have to learn that jizz isn't poison. If I can swallow it, the least he can do is kiss me afterward.

"I needed that," she said instead.

"I could...kind of tell," Brendan said. "God, Mom. I never knew you were so loud when you...when you..."

"When I came?" she smirked. "Well, it's been a long time since I've had one that good. And when you were younger, I tried to make sure you were asleep. No sense scaring you. Especially when you were too young to understand what was going on. Whereas you," she added, "barely made a sound. Why is that?"

He smiled up at her and cupped her breast. She sighed and leaned into the touch, wriggling happily as his finger tickled her nipple. "Self-preservation. If there's only two people living in a house together, and one of them is making a lot of noise when he's..."

"Engaging in the sin of self-abuse?" she smiled.

"Thanks, grandma," he said sarcastically. "But really. I didn't want you to know what I was doing. And moans and groans coming out of my bedroom would have been a hint."

"True." She very carefully didn't mention some of the other things which had made her son's nocturnal habits clear. Not that she hadn't expected them. She had been raising a teenage boy, not a monk, for heaven's sake. And if she saw a dirty magazine or two that hadn't been hidden quite cleverly enough, or if her son seemed to go through more tissue than really seemed necessary, things could be a lot worse. At least he wasn't strung out on meth or spending every waking minute playing video games. "But now you can feel free to moan and groan all you want," she added, reaching down to lay a possessive hand over his cock. "Especially when we're fucking."

"Fucking?" he squeaked.

"Well, yeah." She eyed him curiously. "Did you think I was going to leave you hanging after we've gone this far?"

"Mom. After what you did for me, I'm not sure I can think." He pulled an idiotic expression, one belied by his twitching lips. "Brendan no think good now. Brainy no worky."

"Good thing I only want you for your body, then," she retorted. She lifted her palm. "Good grief. You're still mostly hard. Is that...usual, for you?"

He shrugged. "Mostly, yeah. Is it unusual, for you?"

She kissed his cheek. "Not anymore." She got up, tugging at his hand. "Come on. The couch might be big enough for a little bit of fun. Sometimes. But I'm not going to fuck on it.

"Let's go, lover. It's time for you to take Mommy's incest cherry."

Chapter 5: Granted

"Let's go, lover. It's time for you to take Mommy's incest cherry."

The words echoed in Brendan's mind as he followed his mother down the hall into her bedroom.

He swallowed. He knew that Miranda had a...reputation...around town. In a town the size of Mayfield, he could hardly avoid it, after all. His mother, as they liked to say, got around.

But he had never imagined that she could be so blatantly, shamelessly sexual. That she could not only give him a blowjob in the middle of the living room while he ate her out, but that she could actually celebrate their taboo love, flaunting it by actually calling it what it was.

Incest.

He swung the door behind them as he followed her into her bedroom. She turned around, smiling up at him, her eyes sparkling as she took him in from head to toe.

"My man," she said, walking into his arms. She lifted her head for a kiss, and he shivered as the tips of her breasts pressed into his chest. He groaned into her mouth, pulling her tight to him as their kiss deepened, leaping into flame like a match hitting a pile of oil-soaked rags. His cock, already half-erect when he walked into room, roared back to life, rising and stiffening until it pressed into the skin of her belly.

Miranda broke the kiss, backing away so she could look up into his eyes. "My sweet boy," she whispered, running the fingers of one hand from his temple to his jawline. "Are you sure you want this? Want me?" She gave a jagged laugh. "I might still look pretty good for my age. But my tits and my ass won't last forever. One day you might wake up next to me and decide that you can do better."

"No." He shook his head, denying even the possibility. "Mom. I don't love your breasts. Or your butt. Or your legs or your face or any of the rest. Not even your...your..." He stuttered, his face going red.

"My pussy?" she inquired impishly.

"Yeah. That." He swallowed. "I love you. Not your body parts. You're...you're not a freaking inventory, where I say that your boobs are a ten, but your legs are only a seven, and your face is a six." He smiled at her outraged expression, and held up a hand, halting whatever she was about to say. "And that if you fall under some sort of arbitrary number, well, sorry Mom, you just aren't good enough for me anymore."

"Ooh. I love it when you use fancy words," she purred. She licked his neck as he stroked her nipples with his thumbs, threatening to drive all coherent thought out of his head. "Go on. I'm listening."

"Well," he continued, trying to finish while he could still form complete sentences. "Someday you might be all old and wrinkly. But I might get all gross and fat with a beergut the size of a pony-keg, and wouldn't that be embarrassing." He touched her cheek. "But I will never stop loving you."

"Oh." She blinked rapidly. "That's just...really lovely, Brendan."

"What? The thought of me with a beergut?"

She shoved his shoulder. "No, you big, adorable goof. About you loving me forever."

"Well," he said judiciously. "I could just be saying that to get you into bed."

"If you were, then it's working." She lay down, then reached out to him, her head propped on her hand. "Last chance to back out, baby."

"No way." He lowered himself to the bed, took his mother in his arms, and kissed her fervently, letting her know, with lips and tongue and the throbbing rod of his erection, how much he wanted her. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I want to fuck. Now."

"Oh." He pulled away for a second, blinking. "What about foreplay?"

"Foreplay? Foreplay?" she hooted. "We've been doing foreplay for something like the last half hour, Brendan!

"Here's the deal." She rolled over, pulling him with her, and took his head between her hands, giving him a little shake. "You can kiss me. And play with my tits. And touch me everywhere you can reach. But." She raised an admonishing finger. "You don't get to do any of that if your dick isn't inside my pussy. Comprende, mijo?"

"Si, claro," he replied, grateful to Mrs. Connelly for dragging him, kicking and screaming, through four years of Spanish class. He leaned down, kissing his mother, still amazed at how the afternoon had turned. She sighed under his mouth, then shifted, her legs opening wide. A subtle, writhing move, and something hot and wet and impossibly delicate brushed the head of his cock, like a flower made of molten metal. He looked down and saw that the tip of his glans was poised at his mother's entrance.

He was ready. Fuck, he was beyond ready. The last week had led, inevitably, to this moment, and he wasn't going to let it slip away. With a push of his hips, he entered his mother's pussy, gasping with shock as her wet, carnal heat surrounded his prick. Deeper, deeper, until the base of his cock was flush with her lips, and he had to force himself to stop pushing.

"Oh, damn," he whispered, staring down at where their bodies joined. It was impossible, but it was true. He was fucking his mother.

"Yeah," a voice answered. Miranda's eyes were shining. Her hair spilled over the pillows like a golden starburst. "You feel...so fucking good, baby." She wriggled, spreading her legs a little wider and raising her knees, and Brendan felt himself slip another impossible fraction of an inch deeper into her channel. Her eyes rolled back in her head. "So fucking good," she repeated, her voice going thick and raspy.

"Now. Fuck me."

Even if Brendan hadn't been a willing slave to his mother's commands, he wouldn't have been able to hold back. His cock was a throbbing bar of iron, and he was losing the last vestiges of control. He began to thrust into her. Slowly, at first. But when she began to lift her hips, grinding her mound against him on every stroke, he began to pump into her more firmly.

God, it was wonderful. He bent down, palming a breast and bring the high, tight nipple to his mouth, opening wide and suckling on the tense, straining bud, smiling as the golden-hired goddess beneath him whimpered and shook.

"Fuck, your cock feels good, Brendan," she groaned. "You're fucking me so good, just like a good mother-fucker should. You're mine. My mother-fucking lover." A hand slid down between their bodies, and she began to rub herself in quick, circular motions, her fingers just below the close-clipped patch of pubic hair at the top of her cleft. "Keep going. Keep fucking me with that gorgeous cock of yours. Oh, Jesus, you're going to make me cum again."

She lifted her knees even higher, until they were almost at a level at her shoulders. At that angle, her entire body was wantonly exposed. Brendan almost stopped, staring, before instinct took over again. The sight of his mother's cleft, lewdly displayed as if it was the single most important part of Miranda's body, was heart-stopping. It was as if the entirety of their two bodies had narrowed to a few precious inches.

"Yes," she groaned, reading his thoughts. "Your cock. And my cunt. Together. Just like they should be. Oh, Brendan!" Her voice pitched higher. "It's happening again. I'm going to cum!" Her hands covered her breasts, squeezing hard. "Oh, Godddd," she said, her voice almost sobbing, and a velvet vise clenched his cock as her body shook in release.

The sight of his mother losing control and climaxing pushed Brendan over the edge. His strokes grew mor frenzied, his belly slapping against the back of his mother's thighs. He had just enough time to gasp out. "Mom! Cumming!" before he poured his orgasm into Miranda's waiting vessel in a drumroll of staccato bursts.

*****

The day was growing late. Outside, the shadows were lengthening as the sun slid down the sky towards night. Two figures lay on the bed, their arms around each other.

"I love you, Mom."

Miranda smiled. "Still?"

He kissed the point of her shoulder, and she settled deeper into his embrace. "Yes. Still."

"Did you...do you..." His voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Love you?" Miranda's voice was quiet in the dim room. She snuggled close to him, her warm, lovely body fitting into his arms as if the two of them had been designed for each other, and each other alone. "I love how it feels when we're fucking. I love how you're safe, and warm, and how you protect me. Even from myself. And I love you." Her voice caught, just for a second. "Love is only a word, Brendan. It needs someone to give it definition, to make you feel it." She put his hand on her chest, between her lovely breasts. Through her skin, he could feel the beating of her heart. "You and me? That's love."

"Oh." Brendan tried to stay calm, but he suspected he was grinning like an idiot. "Good. That's good.

"So...what now?"

"Now? Now we get up and clean up and have something for supper. Because I am fucking starving. And then maybe we screw two or three more times before we go to bed.

"But tomorrow," she said, bouncing to her feet with an energy that made her look half her age. "We start making plans." She leaned down and kissed him. "Because if you think I'm going to stay here while you're finishing up school and halfway across the state, you need your head examined."

Epilogue: Kentucky Cougar

They held her going-away party at a barbeque joint on Main Street. It was supposed to be a surprise, but these days Brendan couldn't keep any secrets from her. So when Gail and some of the girls invited her out for a "goodbye drink,' on Friday night, and half the company (and a few of her friends) shouted 'surprise!' as she entered the beer garden, she had to use all of her acting skills to look as surprised as she should have been.

"I'm still pissed at you, you know," Gail said as she handed her a drink. "Rum and coke's yours, isn't it?"

"That's right," she replied, her eye spying Brendan, who had been trapped against the far wall by the Terrible Twosome. They were flirting with him shamelessly, confused as ever by his ability to resist them.

"They're starting to wonder if he's gay, you know," Gail observed with a shake of her head. "They can't figure out why he hasn't been running after them with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, like most men his age."

She smiled secretly as she took a sip of her drink. "Well, we're off to Lexington in a few days, so they can just wonder away."

"Lexington." Her former boss shook her head. "Why, Miranda?"

"Because I was dying here," she said bluntly. "Brendan helped me see it. I spent the first half of my life being the good girl my parents wanted me to be. And I spent the next half being the bad girl they were convinced I was. Lord knows why. I was never going to win that argument, with both of them in the cemetery these last six years."

Gail nodded her understanding. "So I've wasted half of my life, living it based on what other people thought I was, or should be. And I'm never going to get the chance here to prove everyone wrong. Too many memories, too many people who want to put me in back my place if I ever get to acting uppity. To them I'll always be the cheerleader who got pregnant at seventeen and then spent the next twenty years screwing her way through town.

"I'm sorry to leave. I really am. Especially you and the folks out at the nursery. You taught me that I actually had some value aside from how I looked." She gave the older woman a hug, not missing the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. And if you find the big city is a little too big, well, you'll always be welcome back here."

"Maybe," Miranda replied neutrally. In reality, she could hardly wait to leave. The thought of leaving her hometown was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating, as was the prospect of a new job (at a considerable increase in salary) at a landscaping and nursery company, not far from the University of Kentucky. It had all fallen together like magic, when she and Brendan decided that the only reasonable thing to do, if they wanted to remain lovers, was for Miranda to move to Lexington with him. An apartment would be all they would need until her son graduated college. And after that...who knew? Maybe they could find a place where no one knew them, or their past, and settle down.

A flock of servers emerged from the kitchen, and in a few minutes, everyone had gotten down to the serious business of eating, sitting down at the long wooden tables. Lights on strings overhead gave the beer garden a merry, festive radiance. Miranda smiled as she spied Brendan, holding forth on something, as three or four other people looked tolerantly on.

The last three months had been an exercise on how well they could hide their feelings for each other. Some days it had been torture, watching her son, unable to express even the slightest hint of the passion that exploded between them behind closed doors. But in other ways it had been a blessing - a warm-up of sorts. Lexington, for all that it was easily a dozen times as big as Mayfield, would be no more tolerant of their relationship than its smaller cousin.

And besides. Having to deny themselves for eight or ten or twelve hours a day made the nights that much hotter.

She straightened, blinking. Was that...? She stood suddenly, waving. "Hey! Gene!"

"Honeybunch!" The hairdresser peeled away from the smiling couple with whom he had been chatting and bounced over to her table. "How absolutely marvelous to see you! What's all this? A party? For you?" He pouted. "And I wasn't invited, you wicked thing!" He folded his arms across his chest with a sniff. "I don't think I will ever forgive you. What's the occasion?" he asked, putting the lie to his own words.

"I'm moving to Lexington next week," she explained. "This is a good-bye from the people I work with." She quickly made introductions around the table. Her co-workers, she was amused to see, eyed Gene with a wary air.

"Well, you and Brendan enjoy your trip. I hear that sixty-nine is a lot of fun," he winked.

"What?" The blood drained out of her face.

"The interstate, girlfriend! Isn't that how you get up there? Interstate sixty-nine?"

"Oh. Yeah." Somehow, she kept her relief from leaking through.

"Well, I have to go. Allison and her husband have been plaguing me to come to this place for months. If I don't pay attention to them, I'm sure she'll do me an injury." He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Ta, darling."

"What a strange young man," Gail said.

"Yes." She touched her cheek, where his lips had landed. "But he's great with hair. I can give you his number if you like."

"Gene?"

"Yes, Allison, my love?"

The young woman poked him in the chest with a finger, one eye on Miranda's departing figure. "Have you been granting wishes without telling us again?"

The genie laid a hand on his chest in mock horror. "Allison! How can you ever accuse me of such a thing?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," her husband grinned. "Who's the lucky man? Or woman?"

"That tasty piece of meat over there." Gene nodded towards Brendan's tall form. "He never would have made a move on his mother if I hadn't given the two of them a little...nudge."

"His...mother?" Allison stiffened in shock, and even Ray, who had, until recently, occupied a body that looked quite a bit different than his present one, blinked.

"Oh, but look at them!" Gene sighed happily as Miranda sidled up to Brandan's side. He slipped an arm around her waist and hugged her. The smoldering sexual tension was there, if one was wise enough to see it. "They're so happy!"