Pushing the Limits Ch. 06 - Oh Mary

Mark had a confused look on his face, Mary continued, "Second cousins, we had the same great grandfather. Don't look at me like that, it's not as if it is incest! That's only for brothers and sisters, mothers and sons and the like..."

Mary blushed as she heard herself say 'mothers and sons.' Mark was focussed on the 'brothers and sisters' line, all he could think of was how himself and Elaine had crossed that line, and never could it be undone.

An awkward silence followed and was only broken when the waiter returned with their mains. He topped up Mary's wine and again Mark refused, opting to stick with water. From there they chatted about the food, but while gastronomy was on their lips, the images created by Mary's admissions were on their minds.

Mark's head was a whirl with images of passion - Jean, cousin 'Irene,' Elaine, his mother! He tried to rid the thoughts from his mind, but every time he looked up, the first thing he saw was Mary's cleavage. And she was not helping. When she wasn't playing with her food or licking her fork, Mary was nonchalantly twirling her hair with her fingers. Why was everything she did so sexy?!

Mary wondered if perhaps Mark did share a taste in women with her, could such things be genetic? Indeed Mark was a vastly different person to his father, but there in that moment, under the dimmed restaurant lights, something about the way he carried himself reminded her of Leo. Not the husband from the years of turmoil, but the one-time young lover, boyfriend, and fiancé.

The nostalgia for Romance warmed Mary's heart and made her feel young. But while she had the warm glow of alcohol, Mark still seemed a little tense. She felt sorry for Mark having to do all the driving but still stay sober. He had been so good to her, taking her on holiday, bringing her out for the night, she began to feel guilty because of all that her son had done. She wanted to make it up to him, and she got an idea.

"Excuse me while I use the facilities," Mary said in a mock formal way as she stood up and made her way out of the dining room. As Mary walked away Mark had a perfect view of her buttocks split by the thong of the white bodice and nearly bare under the light transparent material. It was getting to be too much for Mark, and his body. Filthy thoughts flew through his mind, and he felt his cock stiffen.

When Mary passed around the corner, Mark noticed he wasn't the only person taking in the view, with one man sending a little nod and a wink his direction. Mark grinned to himself, if only they knew she was his mother.

After an extended delay Mary returned, the lace which held in her breasts stretching as she sat down. She was quickly followed by the waiter who carried an expensive looking bottle of red wine.

"Fill it up," Mary gestured towards Mark's glass. Before Mark could stop him, the waiter had poured him a full glass.

"Mum, I can't, you know that" Mark pleaded.

"It's my treat," Mary said as she reached into her purse and dropped a key on the table. "I popped out to the reception, they had one room left. Now you can relax, take a drink, enjoy yourself."

"Mum there was no need, but thanks," Mark was grinning with gratitude. He raised his glass, "A toast?"

Mary raised her glass in response, "To Jean," she said, laughing.

The two laughed and chatted through the remainder of their meal, Mark allowing himself to talk freely and bluntly like he would with someone who wasn't his mother, while Mary giggled girlishly and flirtatiously at his little jokes. On several occasions Mark took Mary's hand in his as he spoke to her, making a connection, locking eyes as they spoke. And on a couple of occasions Mary rubbed Mark's leg with the side of her foot, to which her son did not flinch.

Before their dessert plates were cleared, they were distracted as a lone guitarist entered the room. Initially he went from table to table, playing slow flamenco songs, then made his way to the top of the room, turned to the crowd, and played more raucous tunes.

The diners next to Mary and Mark were the first to stand. Taken in by the flamenco rhythm, they started to dance. Mary smiled at Mark casting her eyes to heaven, the couple were no expert dancers, but were clearly enjoying themselves.

The mood became infectious, one by one couples stood to dance as the meal became an impromptu party. "Come on let's show them how it's done," Mary said to Mark with a devilish smile.

Mark looked at the other couples, none of whom appeared to have any dance skills, but all of whom were not shy about displaying affection for one another. "I'm not much of a dancer," Mark said, nervously trying to back out.

Mary stood up, "well you can't leave me standing." Mary glared down at Mark as he stood up and walked towards her. "Now follow my lead."

Standing almost a foot away, with one hand Mark took Mary's in his own, and placed the other on her back. Mary grabbed his left arm and pushed it lower, until Mark's hand rested on her hip and the top of her bum. Then she pulled Mark in closer until her body was fully pressed against his, her breasts pushed into his chest, her face level with his jaw.

"It's flamenco my darling, show some passion," Mary commanded. What followed was a remarkable, a spectacle, an illusion. Mary twirled and turned, pulling in and out, at times swinging away from and at times pulled in tight to her blushing son. Mark did little more than stand still and hold his mother's hand but to the onlooker he was a dancer, throwing the sexy older lady around in circles.

Mary's movements were swift and deliberate, lifting one leg as she turned on a heel, gently caressing her partner's arm, his cheek, his face. Soon they weren't dancers at the show, they were the show.

Instinctively, the other couples cleared space on the floor and now all eyes were on Mark and Mary. The music built towards a crescendo. Mary's moves in sync with the rhythm becoming more ambitious. She stepped back from Mark, facing him, holding just one hand, then slowly walked toward him, pushing herself onto the tips of her toes and with her hands lifted gracefully above her head let herself lean into Mark.

Mark could not help but assume the appropriate pose, lest he let his mother fall to the floor, and put his arms around Mary's waist for balance. As Mary stretched upwards, her cleavage was thrust towards Mark's face, her breasts just centimetres from Mark's nose.

Mary giggled, she was enjoying directing Mark's movements, but she was also surprised at the gentleness of his touch and his increasing eagerness to partake. Pressed tight against him, and with his arms supporting her waist, she swivelled on the spot. Then with one heeled foot planted firmly on the ground, she bent backwards against Mark's arm so that she was reaching towards the floor while lifting her other leg above waist height.

The tune was almost at an end, everyone else had stopped now, they were watching Mark and Mary.

Mark was stunned at Mary's flexibility. He knew that she had been a gymnast in her youth but would never have expected her to pull off such a move so well. With a little strain, he supported nearly her entire bodyweight with his left arm, while his right arm held her leg aloft in position. In that moment Mark was blinded by the passion and sheer eroticism of the stunning woman stretched out in his arms, he could not see his mother.

As the guitarist hit the last notes before his sudden stop, Mary glanced up at Mark, grinned, then flipped herself back upwards, throwing her arms around Mark and stopping in time with the music, eyes locked with her son, her face almost touching his.

Cheers went up. The other diners clapped and shouted "bravo!," all while staring at these passionate, presumed lovers in their dramatic sweaty pose, holding each other tight, his hand holding up her stunning bare thigh. But there was something missing.

"Un beso!" the shout came from the guitarist. It was quickly echoed, "un beso, un beso," the diners chanted.

Mary looked in her son's eyes and smiled, but began to turn her cheek, ready to put a lid on this fun. Mark however misread the cue, and leaned in for the kiss, his mouth meeting the corner of Mary's lips. Instantly he realised what had happened, but so did Mary. To save her son's mortification, she put one hand n the back of his head before he could pull away and engaged the kiss.

The taste of a man's lips brought Mary back so many years. The firmness of his mouth, the slight scratch of stubble, it had been so long. She delighted as his tongue briefly penetrated her lips before she came to her sense, broke the contact then thanked her audience.

Mark felt as if he had been in another place, a dream perhaps, as he took his hands off his mother and made his way back to his seat. One of the waiters approached them.

"Excuse me senor and senora, we are clearing the tables now, but you are welcome to make your way to the bar." The waiter gestured towards the bar which was now three deep with thirsty diners. Mark looked at his mother.

"What do you think Mom, do you fancy another drink?" he asked Mary who suddenly looked rather sheepish.

"I think I might just have had enough already," she blushed, "besides, I am wrecked after all of that dancing. I think I might just retire to the room at this stage, but you hang on here, if you prefer."

Mark could have sworn he saw a glint in Mary's eye as she said that. Once again, he took his mother's hand. "Nonsense, I will accompany you."

Mark led Mary towards the rather ancient looking lift in the corner of the building. It was tiny, and though they were only travelling three floors, it seemed to take an age. Alone together in the tiny box, Mark broke the silence.

"I'm sorry about that," he offered, "it was just the pressure of the crowd, and the, you know, moment."

Mary braised a curious eyebrow in response. "The moment?" she enquired.

"You know, the dancing, and you acting all sexy and that," Mark stumbled with his explanation.

"You think I am sexy?" Mary moved in close to Mark once more, pushing the issue, deviously.

"You know with your legs and those breasts and that" Mark could not help but stare at his mother's bosom as he said this.

"Did I make my little boy horny?" Mary put her hand to his crotch as she said this, grabbing his erect penis.

The door opened. With her hand gripping his cock through the thin material, again they locked eyes. Instinctively they briskly left the lift. Mary this time led her son, by the hand, pulling him as they powered towards the room. Not a word was spoken as Mary glanced at the key and found the way. They reached the door. Mary turned the key. Her hand went to the doorknob and was met by Mark's.

They stared in each other's eyes as they jointly pushed the door open, each reading the other's unspoken thoughts knowing that what might happen behind this door could change them forever.

Mary slipped through the door, with Mark behind her, and before he could close it Mary had her back to the wall, waiting for her son.

"You don't have to do this you know," Mary sounded a word of caution. Mark responded without words. Before the door had fully closed and while the light of the outside corridor was still pouring down, Mark had embraced his mother once more and was back in for the kiss.

Immediately Mary was clawing at the young man's body, pulling in his face so that he was kissing her cheek, her neck, and then back to a deep tongue kiss. She wanted him tight to her, she wanted to feel that throbbing cock once more, but this time pressed against her own groin.

Mark could not resist. Instinctively, his hand reached under Mary's dress, this time squeezing the flesh of her buttock. Somewhere deep in his mind remained the consciousness that this object of his lust was the woman who raised him, cared for him, nursed him when he was a child. But those thoughts did not create a feeling of guilt, instead they created a feeling of perversion and taboo, which brought an intense heat to his arousal.

As Mark's hand squeezed the cheek of her ass, Mary felt the tip of his finger gently slide over her hole. It was enough of a shock of arousal for Mary to throw her head back and thrust her breasts towards Mark's face. Mark smooched at her cleavage, starving for a taste of her bosom. He wanted to pick her up and carry her over to the bed, and indeed he tried, beginning to lift his mother off the ground, one arm under her ass, the other around her back.

"No, no." Mary calmy protested. Mark stepped back, had he completely misread the situation? Mary took him by the hand. "I'm not a flexible young thing like Jean," she explained. "You need to be gentle with me." Mary led him by the hand towards the bed.

Mary signalled for Mark to sit on the edge of the bed while she stood in front of him.

"Thank you for tonight, Mark," Mary said as she slowly loosened her dress. "It is a very sweet thing to do, bringing your mother on a date," she said with a tone of genuine gratitude.

"You don't have to thank me, I got to be with the sexiest woman in the restaurant," Mark said earnestly.

Mary blushed. "You don't need to lie Mark, I'm your mother I will love you no matter what," she retorted.

"No seriously, every guy there was jealous of me, your body, I never noticed it before, it's stunning. You are pure fantasy, and if you don't mind, I would like to make that fantasy a reality," he explained.

Mary stared at him as she finished undoing the dress, her mouth slightly open, taken aback by his words. In perfect timing, the dress slid off her body and formed a heap on the floor. Now she was stood there wearing just her ridiculously erotic laced up bodice. Mark took in the view before she dropped to her knees. "Let me show you how grateful I am," Mary said, without breaking eye contact, and starting to open his trousers.

In seconds, the trousers were off, and Mark's underwear followed. His rigid shaven cock sprung to attention. Mary began cupping his scrotum with her hand as her mouth moved close. She fought the urge to swallow it whole as she wanted to savour this moment. Mary stuck out her tongue and with the tip, touched the sensitive aching top of Mark's penis. She ran the tip the length of the slit, letting droplets of saliva drip onto his shaft. The overloading pleasure erupted though Mark in the form of a groan, as Mary now more firmly licked the whole head and then the shaft.

With her son's penis now suitably moistened with her spit, Mary brought her lips over his member. Straight away she pushed down and down, massaging his meat with her tongue, while expertly deepthroating. With her nose tipping his belly, she began to pump up and down on his shaft, all the while sucking and licking. It did not take long for Mark to approach orgasm; he could feel it build. But Mark was not ready to come. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to fuck his own mother, he wanted to get full value.

"Enough," Mark grunted, pushing his mother's face off his visibly pulsing penis. "I want your body Mom," he declared.

Mark helped his mother off her knees and led her onto the bed, where she sat up against the headboard. He admired the figure before him. Long smooth legs tipped with dainty feet, wrapped in strappy golden heeled sandals. A curved waistline exaggerated by a bodice which also forced her breasts to almost burst out, perfect tasty looking globes. Her light blonde hair falling to one side and brushing seductively against her shoulder. And those eyes, wide, complex, displaying love for a son, desire for sex and lust for his body.

Savouring every moment, Mark gently removed his mother's sexy heels, then began running his hands over her bare skin. He climbed onto the end of the bed, between her legs, touching and rubbing from her ankles to her inner thigh. The feel of the mature woman, he noted, was different to that of the younger women he knew. Her skin was lighter, softer, more delicate. Age had given Mary's legs an added definition and tone, but had not robbed them of their beauty, and she bore a pair that any younger woman would envy, and any man desire. Any man, even her own son.

Mark could not resist the temptation to bow his head and lightly run his tongue up the length of his mother's leg, savouring the slight saltiness of sweat as he pressed his face between her thighs. Then in one movement, he placed his hands on her buttocks, just below her hips, and with a firm but careful jerking movement, pulled Mary downwards so that she was almost lying flat, right beneath him.

Mark cast off the remainder of his clothes, then lowered his head once more so that Mary's face was hovering just below his own. Mary stuck out her tongue, wanting desperately for Mark to kiss her. initially he resisted, teasing her, but then locked lips once more, making out as their bodies pressed together, separated only by the bulging bodice.

Breaking the kiss, Mark turned his attention to Mary's breasts, planting his face in her cleavage while he somewhat clumsily worked the laces of the bodice open with his hands. Finally, her breasts broke free, the nipples pointing upwards towards Mark, tempting him to feed like he did when just a child. Mary's breasts were soft and jiggly but held their shape surprisingly well. Mark noted that his Mum's breasts were larger than this sister Elaine's, almost as large as Jean's. But in his mouth the nipples felt different, the skin stretchier but no less delicious.

Sucking on his mother's breast felt exactly right for Mark, and Mary felt the same. Her boy all grown up but needing her nourishment, just as nature intended. But this was not just nature, indeed this was by any description an unnatural act, a taboo, and just that knowledge brought the mother and son to an extreme of arousal.

Mark continued to pull at the bodice as he nursed his mother. He could not contain his desire anymore, he had to enter her. He finally slipped the tight garment down, and pulled it off her, down her legs. Finally they were naked together, and Mark could catch a first sight of the holiest of holies, the passage from which he was born.

Before that day Mark had not given much thought to what his mother looked like between her legs, but he imagined given her age she might be loose and flabby looking. What he found surprised him. Mary was not fully shaven, but neatly trimmed. Her labia was smaller and fresher looking than some younger women's, and Mark wondered if she was as tight as she looked. Mark remembered the filthy old joke, 'an old one closing is better than a young one opening' and wondered if there was any truth to it. Regardless, he would soon find out.

Mother and son were again locking lips, passionately kissing, hands searching each other's bodies. Mary gradually widened her legs, inviting Mark to cross the line of the greatest taboo. Mark's cock was now bobbing around the area of her vaginal entrance, the damp heat emanating from there could be felt against his skin.

"Before we... before we.." Mark was uncomfortable using the word 'fuck' with his mother, "you know... I don't have a condom."

Mary laughed. "My sweet boy, let's put it this way, at my age it would be something of a minor miracle for you to make yourself a little brother or sister."

Mary's bluntness took Mark by surprise, but nothing could control his desire now. Quickly he found her vagina with the tip of his cock. Mark stared into his mother's eyes, looking for a signal to tell him to stop. It never came. Mark slipped his penis into Mary's dripping vagina, the walls of which clung satisfyingly to his aching shaft.

The feeling was terrific. As he began to glide his cock in and out of his mother's vagina, inside he felt a soft buzzing sensation, like butterflies in his stomach mixed with extreme arousal -- it was a feeling that only the most taboo of acts could cause. While he fucked her, he continued to play with his mother's breasts, switching between deep kisses and suckling her nipples.