T4A+ Marcy: Spring Cleaning

Of course, he wasn't the only one who treated them like their favorite toy, most of the men she had danced for and had sex with complimented her petite yet busty figure, typically becoming very handsy as if she were a doll of some sort come to life. All of her lovers had enthusiastically used her breasts sexually, many seemed to love nothing more than cumming all over them. Looking up at her now fully grown son, she can't help wonder if he's ever imagined doing the same. The thought sends a shiver through her and reminds her again of the box of porn. She had always gotten a perverse thrill looking at the magazines knowing her father had too. She would lay in bed and imagine what her father liked about each model as she flipped through the glossy pages and touched herself. Now there was a very naughty part of her that wondered if she was effectively doing the same with her son. That same naughty part of her wanted to offer to let Evan see her breasts again. She imagines turning and lifting her top. She imagines his shocked look and intense stare. She imagines telling him it's okay. She imagines his hands reaching out to... Marcy shook her head, clearing the thoughts, thinking, 'Get a grip on yourself,' before announcing, "Well, better get back at it." As she starts to walk away, she pauses, looking back, "Oh, and whenever you're ready to swap magazines, let me know, I have the box in my bedroom," she informs her son, smirking at his uncomfortable expression.

Marcy opens a box, immediately recognizing the brown cover with gold stripes as a family photo album. She quickly empties the box onto the garage floor, hurriedly flipping through the five large photo albums and several packets of photos as if looking for something specific before frowning and muttering a "humph!" with a sigh.

"Everything okay, Mom?" Evan questions, looking over. He's noticed she seemed mildly frustrated as if looking for something particular these past two days. When he'd asked yesterday, she offered a simple, 'Oh, just some old photos. If you come across any envelopes of pictures let me know, okay?'

"Oh, yes honey, it's nothing," Marcy says before putting the contents back in the box. "Some old family photos," she announces giving the box a shove towards the house.

"Not the ones you're looking for?" he questions.

"Oh, no, you... um... you're welcome to look through these if you want," Marcy states.

"Cool," Evan says, watching the box slide across the smooth concrete, stopping next to the door. Evan turns back to the pile of boxes, now down to a handful in the corner. As he continues to line them up in the middle of the garage, he slowly uncovers a large foot locker-style case. He turns to ask his mom if she knows what might be in there and finds her heading inside, announcing she's taking a bathroom break. "Okay," he responds then clears off the last few remaining boxes and pulls the large case out of the corner. Evan examines the the clasps and undoes them opening the case to find camera equipment carefully stored in foam inserts.

Two camera bodies, several lenses, and various sorts of small attachments line the case. Evan carefully lifts a couple of pieces to find them undamaged, before putting them back. He then notices handles on each end and realizing the top is not as deep as the case, quickly surmising the top must be a removable tray. He carefully grips the handles and lifts, feeling the tray give way with a little force.

The bottom of the box contains two collapsed tripods, several manilla envelopes, and many loose photos. Picking up one of the photos, Evan instantly recognizes his mother, his age or younger, in a string bikini, posing, smiling for the camera. Evan inspects several of the loose photos, finding them all to be of his mother, years ago and scantily clad. Bikinis, short shorts, halter tops. Provocative poses. Picking up another handful, Evan is shocked to see his mother topless, wearing only cutoffs and a big smile. Posing for the camera, her large tits held up by her tiny hands. His heart pounding, Evan checks over his shoulder to ensure his mother's continued absence, he opens one of the manilla envelopes and pulls out a photo. "Whoa.... holy fuck...." he mutters, feeling his face flush. Before he can further process his discovery he hears the garage to house door open. Evan throws the envelope back in the case and frantically places the equipment tray back on top.

Approaching her son from behind, "What'd you find?" Marcy asks, leaning over his shoulder, "Oh, Dad's old camera equipment!"

"Yeah, it uhh... looks... it's um, still in good condition. Nothing looks broken. These are top-class cameras." Evan stammers, standing.

Mother and son look at each other. Evan detects nervousness in his mother's face. Marcy hasn't seen her son flush like this in a long time. Both make a mental connection that the contents of the case have to do with each other's current state. Marcy quickly scans the area as if looking for something before re-focusing on the case. "I'm surprised he still had this stuff. It's probably worth a lot of money. Wonder why he didn't sell it? I guess maybe... he wanted... you... to have it." Marcy says, questioning her own thinking, memories coming back to her, her pulse quickening. "So, that's all that's in there, um... just the camera equipment?"

"Yes!, um yeah... I mean yeah, there's no... like, film or anything, I looked," Evan offers lamely, then trying to cover, he asks, "Why did Grandpa have this stuff. Was he a professional photographer?

Marcy detects her son is deflecting. She instantly connects the dots and admonishes herself remembering the camera case has a bottom compartment. 'You should have looked for it a long time ago,' she chastises herself. Were the pictures her dad took of her in there? Had Evan seen them? Her pulse skyrockets. No wonder he's so flush. Marcy Sullivan suppresses a motherly instinct to confront her son, instead deciding to play dumb and see what happens. She feels her face get hot before offering, "Yeah, when I was young his work was taking pictures of merchandise for catalogs and sales circulars for department stores and grocery stores. Cars dealerships. Stuff like that. Sometimes he would do weddings or parties. He liked... taking pictures. I think he stopped a long time ago though." Marcy says studying her son's face.

Evan can easily tell something is weighing on his mother's mind. He assumes the pictures are what has had his mother frustrated since they discovered the box of old pornography and she recognized the contents. Was she expecting to find pictures of herself? Hoping? Dreading? Why did her supposedly religious father take naughty pictures of his own daughter? A shiver runs through Evan's body as he connects the pictures with the incest-themed magazines and books from the box. Was Grandpa the one getting a blowjob from his mom in the picture he pulled out of the envelope? Holy shit! The small percentage of guilt that was pushing Evan to confess to his mother the existence of the pictures was instantly and decisively overruled by the heart-pounding excitement of what the rest of the pictures could contain as well as his perverse desire to see his own mother nude.

"I figure I could clean them up and see if they work. Maybe get some film, I don't know," he shrugs, trying to act casually, "Film is expensive. Maybe I could sell them and get a good digital camera," he adds, trying to divert their conversation. "How much is it to even get the film... what, printed or... whatever it's called, anymore?"

"Developed or processed were the terms, I believe," Marcy states, "I don't even know anymore. Back then normal people had to take them to stores that did it, but Daddy had his own darkroom, and studio... so he had... privacy. Other photographers would come over and use it. Most of his friends were into photography also. Not everyone wanted their stuff seen by somebody in a store. You know?" Marcy held her son's eyes. She couldn't help but find his obfuscation obvious but the flood of memories was overwhelming Marcy and preventing her from thinking rationally and she quickly surrendered to the idea of not interfering with whatever her son's intent for the contents of the case were.

"Oh, wow. Yeah, I guess I could see that... it seems like a lot of work. Hard to believe it was that hard then. I'm so used to just taking a pic of whatever, whenever and it's in the cloud. Wild," Evan states.

"Yeah, you had to be more choosy back then of what you wanted to take a picture of. I guess something had to be... worthy of being photographed. Like things for work or family or beautiful... things. Fun stuff like... hobbies" Marcy's face felt tight and hot, nearly painful. Partially from the flood of memories, partially from the likelihood that her son was piecing together her taboo history with her own father, partially from the likelihood that her son was not admitting his discovery because... was he embarrassed?... or horny? Is there a genetic disposition towards incest? Does my son want to see me naked too, Marcy bites her lip wondering.

Evan fought every nerve in his body to ask his mother about the pictures and the incest porn. The combination seemed to hint at an obscene, perverse history. He genuinely wasn't sure if he wanted to know the truth. Had his mom been abused by her father? Was that the cause of their strained relationship? Lust and desire boil over, overriding Evan's moral concerns. Evan mutters, "I...I...um, guess I'll go ahead and... take the case up to my room."

Marcy's heart pounds in her chest, her breath ragged, lightning flashes across her skin, her pussy drools and cries out for attention. Her mind is a fog of conflicting thoughts and feelings. She knows she should stop her son. She knows the pictures must be in there. Are ALL of them in there? Oh god, the things she had done for her father's enjoyment. And her own. The things he and his friends had done to her. And all documented in living color. Such wickedness. Nastiness. Filth. Pleasure. Perversion... Fun. So much FUN. The dirtiness of sex that Marcy Sullivan had discovered and enjoyed and embraced without constraint during the early adult years of her life came rushing back and hit her like a freight train. Right there in her garage, in front of her son. The libidinous, limitless, desire and wanting that she has restrained for so long explodes within her. Marcy instantly realizes how much she misses being bad. Truly bad. A slight moan escapes her lips.

"You okay, mom?" Evan asks, seeing his mother's distress. Holding the camera case, thinking he should set it down and tell his mother what he found inside, but also hoping to escape to his room with it before she could refuse. His mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. He knew his mom was hot. He knew she had a troubled past. He knew his urges towards her were 'wrong'. But, THIS? Dirty pictures and maybe incest? His cock raged. His heart pounded. He allowed himself to imagine things about her in the past but this was more than he'd ever dared dream. The need to know crystallized in his brain, he HAD to know! He HAD to see more of her.

Marcy reaches her trembling hand out to her son's arm, "It's okay sweetie, you take it up to your room. It's your's now." She manages a reassuring smile and nod and watches as her son hurriedly exits the garage, case in hand. Marcy gulps air and sobs slightly. She realizes what she just did, giving her son ownership of her secret past. Giving him permission to witness something no son should, the perversity of his own mother. Part of her judges herself, condemning herself as weak and questioning her decisions in life, going all the way back. Memories she had left behind now made fresh again by long-dormant impulses, desires, and needs surging within her anew.

A different part of herself rationalizes her actions the same way she always used to, something so exciting and pleasurable can't be wrong. She had learned to ignore that impulse long ago for the sake of security and stability. She had achieved what she set out to. A home and financial independence while raising her child. She had those things now, in spades. Her son is fully grown, healthy, well-adjusted, and on the road to his own success. And he was now a man. A man with his own needs. Impulses. Desires. Perversions. What are Evan's perversions, Marcy questions for the first time. She rationalizes anew; she's always secretly enjoyed being the 'hot mom,' the attention of his friends, and now these last few days, his attention. 'This is what adults do,' her father had told her. Her son was an adult. This is what adults do. What harm was there in seeing where things go?

Marcy feels her body calm. Peace and resolve overcome her. The tension fades, draining from her face, replaced by a relaxed grin. She wipes the sweat from her forehead. Taking a water from the garage fridge, she snickers, "I wonder how long he'll be up there?" She imagines her son standing over the open case, pictures in hand, furiously masturbating. Pictures of her. Marcy Sullivan slips her hand into her tight, sweaty, yoga shorts, surprised to find she neglected to wear panties. She hadn't even realized. Her fingers find her pussy swollen, sodden. She presses a finger inside herself, stirring her honey pot. Her physical need suddenly overwhelming, she loses herself in self-pleasure. Time stills as the mother frigs herself in her garage. Somehow she hears her son's heavy footsteps approaching. She quickly removes her hand and inspects the sticky glaze coating her finger before putting it in her mouth and sucking it clean. She takes a drag of her water bottle as her son enters the garage. Each finds the other flush and breathless. "All good?" the mother asks her son getting a quick 'Yeah, I'll clean that stuff up later.' Marcy, stifles a laugh, imagining what that really means. "Well, only a few more boxes to go then. Guess we better get to it, huh?"

"Yeah, let's do it," Evan offers, watching his mom smile excitedly, turning on her heels, a bounce in her step. Trying to process his mother's calm demeanor compared to just minutes ago Evan can only stare. He watches her go to the end of the row of boxes and look around before positioning her back to him and then bending over to pick up the box cutter. He watches as she bends from the waist, her legs straight, her ass facing him, her yoga shorts stretch impossibly tight. "Fuck," the son can't help but mutter. He keeps watching as his mother drops to he knees and reaches far forward to cut open a box. His eyes fixed on her ass. Evan loses time, unsure how long he stares until hearing, "Hey!"

"Hey! I said these aren't going to open themselves," Marcy smiles, looking back at her son, finally getting his attention. She watches as he stammers and does a 360 looking for his box cutter, before finally resuming his task, but not before glancing over at her several times. Marcy looks forward, away from her son, and smiles. Her pose exaggerated. Hands and knees. Way more ass than necessary. She can't help but give a little shake. She hears her son mutter "Jesus!" Marcy Sullivan closes her eyes and stifles a moan. 'Yeah, let's do it.' he just said. 'Yeah, I guess we really are doing this,' she thinks, smiling.

****

Marcy Sullivan steps out of her ensuite naked, freshly showered. After such a long day of mixed emotions, old and new feelings, trepidation and exhilaration, not to mention physical labor; she is drained, but also excited for what the future holds. Smiling to herself, still feeling the physical and sexual excitement from her son's growing attention, the 39-year-old mother can't help but grin as she runs her hands up her smooth torso before hefting her large breasts. Her swollen nipples press into her palm and her fingers close to pinch and pull on the sensitive organs. Marcy moans, then giggles, biting her lower lip, imagining a pair of man's hands doing the work. She wonders what her son's hands would feel like. She imagines leaning back into his much taller frame as he towers over her, his large hands exploring her body. Then, suddenly, Marcy remembers her father's hands. His thick, strong fingers touched her like she had never been touched before. She remembers the excitement of both the new experience of being touched sexually by another person and the beyond-naughty taboo of it being her own father. She remembers how it completely overwhelmed her. She remembers how she submitted to her father sexually without hesitation. Repeatedly. She remembers how it ended as suddenly as it started and how she was left brokenhearted. She allows herself to experience these memories and feelings again after refusing to acknowledge them for so many years. Her body heats, her hands manipulate her flesh. A single tear rolls down her cheek.

Evan Sullivan lies in his bed. His hard cock in one hand, iPad in the other. A picture of his mother on the screen. Taken earlier, after they completed cleaning the garage, Evan told his mother they should take a picture to commemorate the hard work and accomplishment. His mom giddily acquiesced, standing in the middle of the garage holding her arms wide, one leg bent at the knee in front of the other, her head cocked to one side, a big smile on her face. Cute as hell. Staring at the picture, the 19-year-old slowly pumps his erection, in no hurry to climax. He stops only to answer texts from his friend Blake. Evan debated sending the picture to his friend but decided fair was fair, considering how many pictures of his own mother Blake has sent over the past couple years. Part of Evan felt proud of the responses from Blake after sending his mom's picture; 'holy fuckkk dude' - 'howd you get her to pose like that??' - 'she know her top is see thru???' - 'those shorts' - 'that cameltoe...fuckkkkkk' - 'dude I'm gonna have to crank one out to your mom. sorry not sorry.' Evan debates how much to admit to his friend. As much as each liked sending and getting pictures of each other's mothers, Evan always felt some guilt for invading his mother's privacy and some shame whenever he orgasmed from fantasizing about her. Of course, neither of the two friends ever admitted to fantasizing about their own mother, but Evan was certain Blake did as well. Likely much more so than himself, at least up until this weekend.

In her room Marcy is leaning back on her bed on one arm, one leg bent out to the side, the other hanging off the edge, her short stem not touching the floor. Her other arm is between her legs, one finger steadily gliding up and down her slick opening. Her head hangs back. Her thoughts alternate between her father and her son. Memory and possibility. The past and the present. Marcy looks at the door, hoping it will suddenly open and her son will be standing there ready to admit his desires and take what he wants without hesitation. Marcy moans her son's name out loud for the first time. Her pussy gushes. She falls back onto her bed, eyes closed. She suddenly feels the bed sag from the weight of another person; her pulse quickens. She feels the heat of another body; her body tenses in anticipation. She feels a hand on her stomach, slowly pushing its way up until it's cupping her breast; her breath catches. She hears her father's voice; 'such a sexy girl.' Marcy opens her eyes and sees her father's face hovering above hers; 'shhh,' he says, holding one finger to his lips. Marcy succumbs to the memory, she is 18 years old again, in her childhood bedroom, her father pulling her clothes off to have his way with her.

In his room Evan has his iPad propped up next to him, pictures of his mother play in slideshow. There are several incest-themed books and magazines from the box within reach. In the past, when he would peruse incest stories on sites like Literotica, he would try to force himself not to imagine himself and his mother as the subjects of a story. It was a battle he always lost, but the effort was necessary to help assuage his post-climax guilt. The stories somehow seemed worse than just his imagination. The stories seemed too naughty. Too wrong. Too real. But now the son very willingly gives in to that fantasy. Reading a mother/son story from one of the old digests; he imagines he is the son visiting his mother at her new condo after her recent divorce only to discover she has become a nudist. He imagines his mother asking him to join her naked on her balcony to get some sun. He imagines his mother asking if she is the cause of his erection and then offering to take care of it. He imagines his mother on her knees performing fellatio on him. For the first time, Evan Sullivan feels no guilt or shame imagining acting out sexually with his own mother as his hand pumps his cock furiously. Glancing at his door, he wishes his mom would walk into his room right now and willingly offer to take care of his very real need.