The Definition of Incest

It was like magic. One moment his pants were on and the next they were gone! He was hard and so erect! His uncircumcised erection was not large and certainly no porn erection, but it was beautiful and had a slight curve to the right. "How big is it, Jason?" I asked.

He smiled and replied, "I am not sure, Mum. I have never measured it."

He placed his hand around it and made masturbation motions and said, "This big!"

I could tell he enjoyed exposing himself to me and playing with his erection. I did share that enjoyment!

The distance between us was not great, but it was clear that we were not touching as we masturbated. I slid my dress up past my thighs and exposed my vagina. The glistening of my vagina matched the glistening of the tip of his penis. We were two very aroused people.

Jason looked at me. I could feel him drinking me in, eating me with his eyes and devouring me with his mind. He was my son and my lover, but he was also an artist. I could sense his attention to the detail of my legs, thighs and vagina.

I opened my legs, exposing my vagina. The lips spread and the red flesh inside was partly visible. I parted them with two fingers and looked into Jason's eyes. Then, two blood-red nails disappeared as I slipped those fingers into my vagina and turned them gently left then right. They were shining as I brought them back to the clear air, and they found my clit and I rubbed it gently. The slippery skin of my fingers took me to another place.

I was close to enjoying an orgasm.

Then I stopped, closed my eyes and breathed deeply. It was not time yet.

I opened my eyes to see Jason with his hand on his erection, not masturbating. He was trying to hold it all together. He was trying not to cum.

"Jason, let's watch the movie. Can you do that?" I asked.

He nodded at me like a mute and lay back as a scene between two men began. I had watched gay porn in the past and enjoyed it, but to watch it with my son, sporting an erection, took things to a level I could never have dreamed of.

I took my hand from my vagina, brought my fingers to my lips and then pressed them into my mouth. I lavished them with my tongue.

I loved tasting myself!

Jason was trying to watch the screen. He didn't have a hand on his erection. It stood proud and alert, and the pink head peeked from his foreskin. He looked so beautiful and, in a way, so innocent. His erection was like a being all of its own, and I could see his will trying to control it, and then it pulsed.

He glanced at me and then the screen, then me, as long trails of seed flew from his cock. His hand went to it, and he masturbated furiously. He was totally out of control showing primal orgasmic lust as he masturbated. Streams of cum erupted from him.

It was all too much for me. I placed my fingers back on my clit and rubbed. In five seconds, my body spasmed. It writhed and I rolled from side to side.

I rubbed, then clenched my hand between my thighs. I held on to that orgasm as only women can.

Slowly, I came back to earth and opened my eyes to see my cum-soaked son looking at me like he had wrestled a powerful spirit and won.

I smiled weakly and he did the same. Then he leaned over to me and slid his hand around my waist. I could feel the slime of his cum on my skin. My pores seemed to breathe it in and celebrate its being. I was sated and had never felt happier in my life.

We kissed deeply, and he whispered, "I can taste your vagina in your mouth."

I replied, "And I can smell your cum and feel it on my skin."

We made out slowly and lovingly for a long time. It felt like most of my body, above my waist, was introduced to his cum. It dripped from him, and I loved it!

The movie ended and the room was silent.

Our passion had subsided, and we drifted into a comfortable cloud together. His head rested on my chest and I asked, "Do you like gay porn, Jason?"

He lifted his head, looked at me and said thoughtfully, "I am not gay or bi, Mum, but I appreciate erotic beauty. That scene and all the scenes were hot and beautiful. I guess you could say gender is not important to me. Pleasure is and love is. You could say I am a rainbow, and this rainbow loves you."

I often wondered was my son an artist or a poet. "You do have a way with words, my darling boy," I whispered. "You always have had."

His hand sought out mine in the silence and he said, "You and me, Mummy."

The fire was dying down and the heating had changed to a night-time cycle. The room was cooling. I told Jason I loved our date and was looking forward to the next one. We kissed gently, and then I walked to the shower and was in my bed asleep within minutes.

I awoke in the morning to the sound of rain. The house was cold. Jason had obviously slept in. I slid out of bed and put on my slippers and a big warm robe. The house was silent.

I was greeted in the kitchen by the remnants of last night's meal. I turned on the heating and eased into the familiar role of mother, the cleaner.

An hour later, the kitchen was spotless. I was drinking coffee, pondering life, and heard Jason make his way to the shower. He soon joined me in his robe. He kissed me on the cheek, told me he loved me and poured himself a coffee.

We sat together in silence enjoying the glow of each other's company.

Finally, I said, "You did not shower last night?"

He grinned and replied, "I wanted to sleep wrapped in the smell and product of my love for you."

He was so smooth that boy of mine. I mused aloud, "Jason, you are such a beautiful human, did you know that?"

"I am your son, Mum, how could I be anything else?"

I reflected on that and other thoughts and said, "Jason, I want to thank you for last night. I want to thank you for your love. Mostly I want you to know that I trust you deeply. Last night you could have attempted to take things to a much more sexual place, but you did not. You respected me, my love for you, and also my wishes with regard to our relationship and incest.

"I know that if anyone could see our relationship they would say it is incestuous. I know I would think the same if I heard of another mother and son being as we are. But having progressed as we have, I do not think any step on its own is incest. Some may say the sum of the whole is incest. I do not see it that way; I see it as love. My love for my son and my lover," I continued.

He sat silently and said simply, "I love and respect you, Mum, and I would never do anything that is not your wish or your desire."

I moved my chair close to him and placed my hand on his thigh. I spoke softly, "You know when you were a little boy I would wash you. I washed your whole body, every part of you. I know that was not incest and it never will be. I knew your body intimately as every mother does their child. Now, you are no longer a child. I have seen you naked and I have seen you aroused. I have enjoyed the beauty of seeing you masturbate and orgasm. I know you intimately as a man now. You are a beautiful man, and I love you."

I kissed him and removed my hand, and as I did so grazed his penis. It was erect. "My god, Jason, are you always hard?"

He looked at me and kissed me. "Just with you, Mum. My body tells the truth, and you arouse me. What more can I say?" he replied.

With that, he stood and declared that he had to work on his painting. I was a little astonished at the breaking of what was a very intimate moment. "Goodness, Jason, are you creating a masterpiece?" I queried.

His erection was poking from his robe. He replied, "A masterpiece it is and also an obsession. Trust me, all will be revealed soon." He then looked at his erection and said with a smile, "I mean more will be revealed."

He kissed my cheek and was gone.

My respect for him was so strong. I had just created an opening for something very special for us both and he evaded it. My son was more than any woman could wish for.

The day turned to night, and again we watched porn together. There was no pretence about our attire. We removed our clothes and sat apart, masturbated and then made out.

Despite my admonishment about nudism, we were often naked together. For the next five days, we consumed all forms of porn together and masturbated and discussed it. Every night we enjoyed mutual orgasms.

Then my period arrived, and I let Jason know that I was not up to our normal evening entertainment, so we watched movies on Netflix for a few days. It was around this time that I began writing the journal of my life and love with Jason.

After four days, my period was over. That morning, as Jason was sleeping I drank coffee in my robe. I scanned the news online and saw that the lockdown rules would soon be eased.

When Jason arose, I told him and asked where he would be when life returned to normal. His reply was simple, "This is normal, Mum, and this is my life."

I informed Jason that my period was over, and his face lit up with a huge smile.

He then declared that today he would be unveiling his painting to me. He asked me to keep to my room between 11:00 am and noon, as he would be moving it to the loungeroom for 'the great reveal.'

I showered and made a cup of tea and retired to my room. Normally I watched porn in any moment I had to myself, but watching porn did not feel right without Jason by my side. Instead, I sat at my computer and continued writing my journal.

At 11:45 am, Jason knocked on my door and let me know that he was ready and to wear only my robe.

I entered the lounge, and the fire was blazing. There were two glasses of champagne sitting on the coffee table. Beside the fire was the painting. It was about my height and was covered with a white sheet. Jason stood beside it as I entered. He then handed me a glass of champagne and took the other.

I stood beside him in front of the painting as he made a little speech about it being a labour of love. He thanked me for his life and our love. He raised his glass to me, and we both sipped the champagne. For some reason, I was very nervous about all of this. His praise always made me feel good about myself and proud of him. However, this seemed much more formal and intense.

He took my champagne and placed it on the table next to his. He asked if I was ready, and I replied that I was. Then he removed his robe and asked me to do the same. We stood naked looking at each other, and then he turned and removed the sheet from the painting.

My breath caught in my throat and my legs felt weak as I saw the labour of his love. There in front of me was a life-size painting of me. Naked!

I felt as though I was looking into a mirror. Everything, every detail was me. My face, my hair, my arms, my legs. Everything. The breasts were my breasts, the vagina my vagina.

I was in awe of his talent and, vainly, in awe of how beautiful I looked.

He stood back and let me examine it closely. I looked at my body and back at the painting over and over again, comparing. Every detail was me, even the little dark mark on my pelvis. My nipples looked so real, and the vagina was mine in its intimate detail. The subtle flesh of my labia and the hint of an opening.

He captured my smile and my eyes and well...everything.

Finally, I said breathlessly, "Oh, Jason, it is beautiful."

He moved in behind me, slid his arms around my waist and said, "The beauty is all yours, Mum."

My response had aroused him, and I could feel his erection press into my back. Then he whispered into my ear, "It took me a long time to paint because every brush stroke carries my DNA."

I placed my hands on his hands, on my stomach, as his erection pressed harder into my back. "What do you mean about your DNA?" I asked.

He whispered into my ear, "I masturbated and mixed my seed into all of the colours and tones. This is the epitome of a tribute to the woman I love."

I melted into him and said softly, "Jason, you never?"

He released me from his embrace and moved to stand beside me. His erection looked so beautiful as he looked at the painting. "It took so long to paint, as I had to deal with my arousal all the time, and I had to wait to see your vagina to make sure I got it just right," he said as he turned, looked at me and took his erection into his hand.

He began to masturbate and told me that it now needed the finishing touch. I caught on to what he meant as he faced my painting. "No, Jason! You can't do that. It is just wonderful. You will ruin it!" I exclaimed.

"No, Mother, it will make it complete," he replied.

He began to jerk himself swiftly, and I felt so aroused watching my son masturbating to my perfect painting, the perfect me. I moved my hand across my body and placed it on his right hand, the masturbation hand. I whispered, "Allow me, please, darling."

He removed his hand, and for the first time in my life, I took an erection into my hand and masturbated it.

I masturbated my son.

I then asked in a quiet voice, "Are you sure about this?"

He replied that he had never felt surer about anything.

He shuffled in close to the painting, aiming at my painted body. In just a few strokes, he tightened and moaned, "Oh fuck," and then he ejaculated.

The first measure of semen landed on the stomach, and I edged him a little closer and the next splattered into the image of my vagina. Another followed and then another. My vagina was wet with the cum of my child. His cum was on my hand as I held his spent cock, and we watched as the cum slid down my portrait. Down my leg.

I was mesmerised and moaned, "Oh, Jason, that is beautiful."

He looked at my hand on his cock, covered in cum. "You touched me, Mum, you masturbated me," he said.

I replied, "As I have told you, I have touched you before." I paused and continued, "And I shall touch you again."

I removed my hand and brought it to my face and admired the duality of his cum. It was running in part and thick in part. It wet my hand and also created a few joining threads between my fingers.

I brought it to my nose and smelt the musty richness of it. Then I did something I had craved for a long time. I placed my fingers into my mouth and savoured my son's seed. It rested on my tongue as though I was savouring a rare wine. I played with it in my mouth with my tongue. I slid it around my teeth, and finally I swallowed it. I felt it glide into my throat, and I could almost see as much as feel it slide into my stomach.

My boy's seed was inside of me.

My senses were in overload: Touch, Sight, Smell and Taste. I had enjoyed so much arousal in the past year, but nothing compared to this. I lifted my eyes and met Jason's; there were tears there as he told me he loved me.

I took his hand and moved back to the coffee table. I placed one foot on the table to open myself. I took his hand and placed it on my vagina. He looked into my eyes and said, "But, Mum?"

My response was clear. "Darling, if I can touch you, then you can touch me."

He slid two cum-slick fingers into me and began pumping hard. I placed my hand on his and whispered, "Easy, darling. Do it like you see Mummy do it."

And so he did. His fervour was replaced by sensual touch, slow fingering and gentle rubbing. I coached him a little by saying, "Now, baby, rub my clit hard. Make me cum!"

I held onto his arm as my orgasm swept through my body. Waves crashed, symbols clashed, the world tilted, my senses roared, and I fell into his arm as he continued to rub me. "No, no, baby. Just keep it still and hold me," I panted.

He remained still and regained my sense of balance and presence. "Oh fuck," I whimpered.

Jason gently removed his fingers and did as I had -- he put them into his mouth and savoured them. I watched him through the haze of my mind until he took me in his arms and kissed me. Our tongues swam together, and the tastes of our love mixed in our mouths. Our tongues 'fucked' together as we both longed to.

The kiss was broken by the clock on the wall quietly chiming midday. We both turned to the painting and saw one brave drip that had made the journey from my vagina, down my thighs, shin and feet to the frame.

Then we both laughed at the absurdity of it all. That one drip brought us out of our reverie. It was incredible how one act could be so beautiful, romantic, sensual and erotic whilst at the same time, without the lens of arousal, seem almost bizarre.

A more beautiful bizarre I never experienced.

I bent over to pick up my robe, and Jason placed both his hands on my hips and ground his cum covered penis into my bum. I turned to look at him, and he said, "Sorry, Mum, I just had to."

All I could do was smile as I stood up and said, "I understand. Sometimes a man has to do what he has to do!"

I moved away from him, put on my robe, and said, "And sometimes a mother has to eat!"

Sliding my robe on, I went to the kitchen. I made us some sandwiches and he joined me at the table.

I said, "Jason, your painting is truly amazing. I cannot get over how you managed every detail so perfectly. It belongs on a pedestal, although I am not sure where!"

He then talked to me about the skill of painting, how he looks at things and how his mind sees detail. He talked about how some things stir him and when he sees them he sees the colours and shades he will use and mix to recreate them on canvas. He added that nothing stirred him like I did and had for a long time.

I could feel his passion for art and his passion for me. I had to ask, "Did you really ejaculate into your paints that often? I mean, how did you get that idea?"

"Well," he said, "the essence of the idea came to me long ago. Do you remember the holiday we went on with Nan and Pop to Queensland?"

I responded that I did but had no idea where this was going.

"Pop had a new camera and took a lot of pictures. A few years later, I found the prints in a cupboard, and there was one of you I loved. I was sitting on a towel at the beach, and you were kneeling behind me, leaning forward. Your smile in that photo was radiant. But the thing that attracted me was the view down your blouse. You had no bra on, and the swell of your breasts was on show. There was a slight hint of nipple edge. I took that picture and kept it under my mattress."

I interjected, "But you were so young then."

He replied, "I was in the picture, and I was when I took it. I loved looking at it. And, well, as the years went by I would look at it and masturbate. One day I came on it. I wiped my cum off, but it was not quite the same. Of course, that did not stop me from looking at it and masturbating again and again. It feels weird to say it, but I reduced that photograph to a warped blur. I found it when I got home from London, hidden away, and gave it one last testimonial before I threw it away."

He continued, "That picture and that act inspired me. I am always looking for a creative edge, and when I began your naked painting, it felt right."

I could hardly believe my ears as he told me. My focus was as much on his obsession with me as it was on his creative brilliance. I said tentatively, "Jason, did I ever do anything or lead you to feel this way about me?"

He laughed and said, "Mum, have no fear, you are not some pervert that played with my mind as a child. My childhood was perfect. You never did anything untoward. I have no idea why I feel so strongly for you. I cannot explain it. It is just how I am. I have always thought I am the way I am because of the way you are. So, did you lead me to feel this way? The answer is definitely yes. You led me to where I am in life by just being you. And you are perfect."

I sat looking at him thinking, How did I create such a sincere, charming, flattering and honest human being? My goodness, my boy could flatter!

I said, "Ok, I understand, although I do wonder at times if you are real!"

I glanced toward the door to the lounge room and said, "You know we can't leave the painting where it is."