Real Lives, Imaginary Lovers

I ignored her innuendo; I thought that she was taking the fantasy and her teasing a little too far.

"Oh, that'll be nice," I called back, "I haven't spent much time with her since Christmas. Won't Stepfather be home on Sunday though?"

"Yes, but he's off on another business trip on Monday so I don't think she's bothered at all about seeing him."

"Right, that's fine by me. Who's car are we going in this morning?"

"Mine, I don't know what I've done with my car keys; can you have a look in my handbag?"

I went into the lounge to find her handbag. There were a couple of items of material poking out of the top of the bag and I had to remove them to find her keys. To my surprise, I found myself holding a scarf, that I thought I recognised, and a pair of knickers, that I definitely didn't recognise. There was a heady scent coming from the scarf; it was burnt-orange in colour and looked as though it had been knotted at some point. I held it to my nose and knew immediately that it was my mother's; Chanel No. 5, unmistakable.

The knickers were pale pink, not a colour that I'd ever seen in my wife's lingerie drawer; and I'd been in there often enough to know. They were heavily stained in the gusset; tentatively, I put them to my nose, the scent was intoxicating and it wasn't my wife's. As I stood there in disbelief, it suddenly dawned on me that my wife had been telling the truth all along. It wasn't a fantasy; she had fucked my mother; it was all real; they had been to bed together, my mother had asked my wife to describe my cock, my mother had orgasmed numerous times to fantasies of being fucked by me, her son.

My heart pounded, but I felt elation in my chest; my future had shown itself to me; I was going to enter into an incestuous relationship with my mother.

My wife came into the lounge with a broad grin.

"Now do you believe me, lover boy?"

There were no words to express the deeply erotic, incestuous lust that I felt.

She noticed that my cock was bulging against the front of my jeans.

"Oh dear, have you been thinking about your mummy? We can't let you wander around the supermarket in that state, you'll be arrested. Come here; let me take care of it for you."

My wife, in her high healed ankle boots, opaque black stockings and short denim skirt, was a glorious sight on her knees in front of me with my erect cock in her mouth. Her breasts wiggled provocatively to the rhythm of her bobbing head until semen oozed from her lips and trickled down her chin.

Just three days ago, we had begun to share our sexual fantasies. I had started out thinking that I would have to coax hers out of her slowly and gently. So, I was pleasantly surprised and delighted when my wife told me that she wanted to fuck another woman; but I could never have guessed that the woman she chose to fuck would turn out to be my mother. Nor could I, in my wildest dreams, ever have imagined that my mother would confess to lusting after my cock and be so willing for me to bury it in her cunt. Nothing will ever be the same again.