Real Lives, Incestuous Lovers

This story follows from and concludes events that happened in a previous story. If you want to know how I came seriously to be contemplating committing incest with my mother and my wife's part in making it possible, please read 'Real Lives, Imaginary Lovers' before continuing with this story.

If you'd sooner start from here, the following few paragraphs set out the bare bones of the events that had me tingling with anticipation at the thought of my mother arriving at my front door on a Sunday morning at the end of May 1997.

My wife and I were both thirty-five years of age, childless and had been married for five years.

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There was no doubt about it; I was nervous. Friday's events had been a revelation. I had discovered that my wife had fucked my mother. As if that wasn't enough to get my head around, my mother had confessed to my wife that she wanted to feel my cock inside her. These astonishing events had come about because, last Wednesday, I came home from work to find my wife masturbating in the bathroom. She had no idea that I had heard her reaching her climax; I was as sure as I could be that she had never previously indulged in masturbation outside the confines of our love-making.

The source of inspiration for her self-induced orgasm was a magazine article about female sexual fantasy and masturbation. I found it lying on the coffee table in the lounge while I waited for her to come down from the bathroom with a post-orgasmic flush on her face. By then, she knew that I was home because I'd crept back downstairs, closed the front door loudly, and shouted a greeting to make her think that I'd just arrived.

Despite her having no idea that I was on to her, she gave herself away by working too hard at appearing as though everything was normal and she hadn't just had her fingers inside her pussy. That evening, one thing led to another, and for the first time in ages, we had sex on a weekday evening, something that we usually reserved exclusively for Sunday mornings.

Perhaps I should choose my words more carefully; when I say we had sex, what I mean to say is that my highly aroused wife straddled me and gave me a good fucking. The magazine article triggered an explosion of pent-up erotic lust in her that I had not seen the like of since the early days of our marriage.

To put things into context, like many women, my wife had been convinced that masturbation was not something in which a respectable young woman should indulge. Even now, in 1997, some women are still of the view that masturbation is dirty and ought to be forbidden. My wife had only ever played with her pussy when she had been in bed with me and being aroused and close to her orgasm, I had asked her to make herself come with her fingers because it had turned me on so much.

The impact of the magazine article had been profound; the morning after our midweek sex session, as we both got ready for work, we agreed to tell each other what we thought about when we had sex with each other. The deal was that my wife would reveal her come fantasies to me if I first revealed mine to her. We were both up for it, neither of us seemed to mind that we sometimes thought about fucking other people when we had sex with each other.

To say that our exchange of erotic stories had gone well would be an understatement. My wife's libido had been unleashed by our fantasies: she'd confessed to bi-curiosity, an admission that had gripped my imagination and my penis, and then as if that wasn't enough of a surprise, she'd told me that she'd seduced my mother. Just as I was coming to terms with that revelation, she delivered the astonishing news that, with my wife's fingers inside her, my mother had confessed to having fantasies about being fucked by me.

My initial reaction was that these revelations were part of an elaborate sexual fantasy invented by my wife for my titillation. Imagine my stunned surprise when, on Saturday morning, I discovered evidence in my wife's handbag proving that her story wasn't fantasy at all. It was all true, my mother's scarf that was creased where it had been used to bind her wrists and her soiled pussy scented knickers convinced me that my wife had indeed fucked my mother.

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We didn't need to indulge in any fantasies on Saturday. When we arrived home after shopping, we left the groceries in the car and had frantic sex on the hallway floor with the front door half open. I'd only just pulled my jeans back up when a red-faced postwoman rang the doorbell and handed a letter to me; goodness knows how long she'd been standing outside the front door; she must surely have heard us both coming.

We fucked again, twice after lunch and twice more after tea. We were both feeling so incredibly horny at the prospect of my mother coming to lunch on Sunday that we couldn't help ourselves. Eventually, late in the evening, after our fifth love-making session of the day, my wife suggested that we should get a good night's sleep. She wanted me to save myself for my mother, but she did ask me what I was thinking about during my last orgasm. Before I could answer, she teased me by guessing correctly that I had been thinking about my mother's pussy; she took pleasure in reminding me that it was something that she knew intimately, but I could only imagine.

On Sunday morning in bed, I spooned my wife, pressing my erection into the cleft between her buttocks, but she said that there was to be no sex before my mother arrived. I still wondered if I was dreaming the whole thing; despite evidence to the contrary that I had found in my wife's handbag, I began to think that the whole thing was a clever ruse made up by my wife to tease me.

By mid-morning, I was beginning to feel very nervous. I started to feel that none of this should be happening. I told my wife that I couldn't possibly contemplate fucking my mother, for God's sake. It was wrong. My wife sat me down on the settee, rested her head on my shoulder, placed a hand at the top of my thigh and spoke softly into my ear.

"Darling, listen to me. I've said this to you before and I'll say it again, being your mother is only a part of who she is these days, she's also an attractive, very sensual woman with needs. Needs that she desperately wants you, her son, to fulfil. Please don't disappoint her; you know deep down that she's always caused a stirring in your loins; you know you've always subconsciously wanted to fuck your mother; most men do; it's only natural."

My cock started to engorge; this wasn't the time to analyse the details of my wife's theory.

"I was going to let her tell you this; she told me, when we were in bed together, that she had masturbated frequently about being fucked by you and that when your stepfather used to make love to her, she always imagined that it was your cock inside her, it was the only way she could achieve orgasm with him."

"Fuck me, for how long? When did she start with all this?"

"She didn't say, but you can ask her later."

My wife's clever words did the trick; I was in a high state of arousal for the rest of the morning. Even so, for all my newfound resolve, I jumped when I heard the doorbell ring.

"Well? That'll be your mother; I think you should answer it; after all, it's you that she's come to see."

I still hesitated; my wife gave me a slight push toward the front door. I trembled as I opened it; I wondered if would be able to look my mother in the eye. All of that was forgotten the moment that I saw her; she looked stunning. For the first time in my life, I felt the sensation of my cock tingling and starting to enlarge at the sight of my mother.

"Hello darling, are you going to invite me in?"

"Oh, yes, Mother, I'm sorry," I said as I moved back and let her step into the hallway.

She was wearing a close-fitting pencil-cut knee-length dress that had a white background and a large floral pattern in black, pink and green. The high-necked, sleeveless dress clung to her slender but shapely frame in all the right places. Her stilettos and clutch bag were in pale blue; when she turned to kiss my cheek with her perfectly painted dark-pink lips, I got a waft of Channel No.5. It was a heady scent that went straight to my loins.

My wife had arrived in the hallway; she hugged my mother; it was a warm embrace that lasted for several seconds. She winked and smiled suggestively at me over my mother's shoulder. From behind, my mother looked gorgeous for a woman in her mid-fifties. Her feminine curves and shapely legs had me entranced; I noticed that she was wearing pale-cream stockings with seams; my cock spasmed at the sight of them. Her dress was pulled taut by my wife's embrace; I could just make out the outline of her suspender belt and straps through the material.

I shouldn't have been surprised. I knew that my mother often wore stockings on special occasions. Throughout the years I'd lived with her, I'd seen stockings and suspenders on clothes dryers after she'd been out on dates with boyfriends. I can remember feeling aroused at the sight of her sexy lingerie, but I always told myself that it was the feminine underwear, and not my mother, that made me feel horny.

As my wife released my mother from their embrace, she planted a warm kiss on her lips. My wife also looked desirable in a pale blue, knee-length pencil-cut dress and heels. I knew that she was wearing stockings because, as she had got dressed, I'd enjoyed watching her roll them up her legs and clip them to her suspender belt. Her movements were slow and sensual, as they always were when she knew that I was watching her.

The two women were alike; they were both slender, graceful in their movements and very shapely. They're about the same height and they both have average-sized, firm breasts. My wife's eyes are blue; her long bobbed hair is light brown; my mother's eyes are grey-blue; her hair is a cool ash-blonde in a shorter bobbed style.

I carried my mother's overnight bag in from her car just as the taxi turned up. My wife had booked it so we could all enjoy a drink with our Sunday lunch without worrying about driving home afterwards. Both women turned heads as they made their way to our table. They drew plenty of admiring and even covetous glances as we dined. We shared two bottles of wine with the meal; the conversation was friendly and light-hearted; references to the erotic purpose of our getting together were restricted to innuendo.

"Do you have room for dessert?" My wife asked my mother.

"It depends on what's on the menu; is there anything you can recommend?"

"Yes, it's long and hard, and it can be a bit of a mouthful."

"If it's as large as you say, perhaps we should share?"

"I'd like that very much," my wife smiled seductively.

"Well, I don't know about you darling, but I'm tingling all over with anticipation. Shall we get the bill and ask the waiter to ring for a taxi?" my mother suggested.

"Yes, that's a good idea," my wife turned to me, "when we get home, you're going to have to eat two desserts, darling; do you think you'll be able to manage?"

"Mmm, I'm sure I will, and I hope you'll both feel adequately stuffed as well."

Despite the sexual innuendo and my apparent bravado, I started to feel nervous again. Lunch had been a safe refuge; now I would be expected to perform for two confident, alluring women.

As soon as the front door was closed, my wife kissed my mother passionately. It was such an erotic sight that my already half-erect cock solidified instantly. Unsurprisingly, my mother and I were nervous. Thankfully, my wife was cool, calm and collected. She suggested that we go into the lounge, sit down, relax and enjoy another glass of wine. She invited my mother to sit on the armchair and she sat next to me on the settee. The sexual tension was off the scale; my wife seemed to sense how awkward and uncomfortable my mother and I were feeling.

She put down her wine glass and looked at me for a moment, "Kiss me," she said and she ran her tongue around her lips. We kissed long and hard; my mother shifted in her chair as she watched us. My wife began to undo the buttons on my shirt as we kissed. I reached behind her to unzip her dress, but she said, "No," quite assertively. We continued to kiss and fondle and she continued to remove my clothing very slowly.

When she had stripped me down to my underpants, I looked over at my mother; her face was full of desire and arousal; she crossed and uncrossed her legs to still her beating pussy. I caught sight of her stocking tops and cream knicker gusset; a pulse of arousal shot through me, my mother's eyes were glued to the bulge in my underwear, and my cock was pushing against the high waistband. My wife told me to stand up, and then she removed my last item of clothing with a flourish; my hard erect cock boobed and swayed for a moment or two until it became still; it jutted out from my groin and stretched to its full magnitude; just a few feet from my mother's face.

"He's all yours now," said my wife, "he loves to be led upstairs by his cock. I think you should have the honour of doing so."

It was a profound moment of incredible eroticism; my mother got up slowly from the armchair and took three slinky strides over to where I was standing; she stopped right in front of me; her bosom was heaving, her eyes were full of lust, she looked searchingly into my eyes, and then at my erect cock.

"It's beautiful," she said in a whisper.

My wife took hold of my mother's hand and placed it around my erect cock; it was like an erotic handover ceremony. I trembled at my mother's touch; her long fingers wrapped themselves around my hard, pulsing penis; it was electrifying; my cock spasmed and a bead of come gathered on the tip.

"Oh my goodness!" whispered my mother, and she used her thumb to spread the small slick deposit around the head of my cock.

There was a lewd glint in my wife's eyes, "Take him, take him up to our marital bed; he's all yours now; he's ready to commit incest with you; take him and use him for your pleasure."

My mother needed no further encouragement; she led me by the cock, through the lounge doorway and into the hall with slow, slinky strides. As she led me upstairs, I watched her shapely buttocks sway with each step that she took. I watched the seams of her stockings and the backs of her stilettos. I watched her narrow waist, straight back and slender arms and shoulders. It was all too much for my cock, I started to seep come over her fingers in a steady flow, and by the time we reached the bedroom, I'd had what I can only describe as an exquisite but subdued, slow-motion, half orgasm.

She licked my semen off her fingers with her long tongue "Don't worry darling, I'm sure there's plenty more where that came from; let me take care of you."

I stood naked in my bedroom with my fully dressed mother; she looked me in the eyes and told me to unzip her close-fitting, pencil-cut, summer dress. I did so with trembling hands; my cock had reached a point where it seemed to be holding its breath; I was as hard as iron and ready to empty the rest of my semen into my mother. As the zip reached her beautiful curvaceous backside, she gave a little shimmy with her hips and shoulders; the expensive dress slid to the floor in folds. She lifted her long, shapely stocking-clad legs and stepped out of the folds of material that had gathered around her feet; in one agile, sweeping move, she arranged her gorgeous body on the bed and pulled me on top of her at the same time.

As soon as my mother guided my incestuous cock into her incestuous cunt, I stretched the walls of her vagina with my manhood; what was left of my come gushed into the soft, warm depths of her welcoming pussy. It was the most erotic orgasm I'd ever had; fireworks were going off inside my head, and the walls of my mother's vagina clung to my cock; it was so intensely perverted but so right; my cock was where it belonged - inside my mother. Although I'd come, my depraved lust kept me very hard; my mother gripped my shoulders and wrapped her legs around my waist, imploring me to fuck her.

"Don't stop darling; I'm nearly there, don't stop, fuck me, fuck your mother, oh God, I'm coming, fuck me, please fuck me, oh God, I've wanted you inside me for... oh, fuck, I'm commmminnngg.

We lay together for a few minutes; the scent of my mother seemed so familiar; I breathed her in deeply; the intimacy was beyond belief. It was as though I had never left her bosom. I felt elated; my mind raced in several different directions at once: an overwhelming sense of sexual fulfilment as I'd never felt before; a delicious sense of depravity having done something illegal, more than kinky, something utterly forbidden; an intense desire to fuck my wife to show my gratitude for her part in arranging the incestuous coupling; a sheer delight at the prospect of watching my wife fuck my mother, something that was bound to happen later on; a deep satisfaction that I would, from now on, take my mother for my lover, that she would make herself available to me regularly and I would bury my cock inside her again and again into the foreseeable future.

"Will you fuck me again, please? This time, I want it slow and sensual."

I reached for her pussy and caressed it with my fingers as I kissed her; her labia were plump and wet, three of my fingers slid into her easily; she gasped. I bent my head and sucked on her nipples for the first time since she had breastfed me; it was a wondrous sensation, the soft cushions of her breasts against my nose and cheeks, the solidity of her large dark hard nipples and aureola on my tongue and lips. She uttered a throaty sigh and took hold of my cock; only a matter of minutes after shooting my load into my mother for the first time, I was already hard and ready to go again.

"Oh, you beautiful man, you're so hard; you certainly know how to show respect for your mother."

She tugged at my erection; she was trying to pull me in between her legs so that I could sink myself into her again.

"Fuck me, darling."

"I will, but let me kiss your pussy first."

My tongue traced the folds of her pink vulva and then tantalised her clitoris. She didn't last long; her back arched, her body went rigid and she came. After I had pleasured my mother's pussy with my mouth, she eased me onto my back and kissed my throat and chest; she traced the tip of her tongue down to my abdomen and kissed me all around my hard cock. The tip of my cock pressed against her cheek; she kissed my balls; I watched her take my cock in her hand, lever it upright and touch the tip of her tongue against its head. She swirled her tongue around the glans, and then my mother slowly lowered her lips over my erect cock and covered it with her mouth.

What an erotic sight! My proud cock rippled against the inside of my mother's cheeks as she sucked on it slowly and deliberately; her thumb hooked around its base and her fingers stroked my balls; it was sensational. I don't remember ever being so aroused, I wanted to explode inside my mother's mouth, but she tantalised me with her expert, slow-paced sucking and stroking.

I wonder how my father could ever have left my mother, the sensual cock pleaser currently latched onto my erection. She was incredible; I was in thrall to her and her carnal ways; just when I was about to tell her that I couldn't last a moment longer, she moved her head up and down on me; her tongue put pressure on the underside of my cock, her fingers gently squeezed my balls; I gasped, at first the sound of my orgasm got caught in the back of my throat before I roared my intense pleasure into the bedroom. In the tingling afterglow, we kissed, and my salty come lubricated our lips and tongues; she continued to stroke my cock, and the sensation was delightful. Eventually, I became hard again; she lay on her back and opened her legs; I was inside my mother again, fucking her slowly and sensuously. She spoke to me as I filled her with pleasure.