Unconventional

(Usual Disclaimer Time: All the characters in this story are 18 years old or older, and since we're living in the wide wonderful world of porno-land here, where clichés roam free and things might get a little unrealistic from time to time, please remember it's all in good fun. And it should go without saying, but I'll say it anyway, that this story is a fantasy that in no way endorses incest in real life and if reading it isn't your thing, I'd recommend turning back now rather than writing angry reviews later.)

(Author's Note: For a long time, my readers have asked if I would ever consider writing an incest story, and while I never thought that day would come, well, eventually I guess enough people finally asked for me to give into peer pressure and give it a try. This is my first ever attempt at writing incest, but I'm open to writing more if the response to this one is decent since this was fun to write. For those who haven't read my stuff before, I tend to enjoy some slower-burn character stories with a fair bit of banter before things get hot and messy, but they will get hot and messy, I promise. Beyond that, I hope you all enjoy!)

***

"Ethan Miller, you're a handsome, nineteen-year-old college man and it's a Friday night; when are you going to get out there and get laid?"

I was used to Mom storming into my room unannounced and her unconventional conversational style, but this was definitely one of those times where she managed to surprise me. Thankfully, I was deft enough to pause the game on my computer before I'd lose any of my progress the moment she'd entered the room, but not quick enough to avoid choking on the sip of Coke I'd just taken when she said this. I made a few undignified sounds in this moment to keep from spitting it everywhere, but once I was able to swallow the angry, bubbling mouthful of soda, I was able to get my wits about me and come up with a suitable response.

Swiveling around in my chair, I exclaimed, "Mom!"

As ever, Jessica Miller, a.k.a. my dear old mom, walked around my room like she owned the place. Truthfully, she actually *did* own our house, and my room by extension, which she was allowing me to live in rent-free while I went to a nearby college (and was forever thankful for), but even if she hadn't owned it, she'd have still walked with the same kind of confidence as if she had because that was how she approached pretty much all of life.

Tonight, she wore one of her around the house casual looks, which that night meant a pair of stretchy spandex workout shorts that conformed well to her round, fit ass, a dark, loose tank top that showed plenty of midriff and barely covered her massive chest, and her long, blonde hair tied up in a casual bun. Even without her makeup and jewelry, I knew she was absolutely stunning for a woman of 39, with a tight, athletic body and a narrow, clever face that seemed to drive guys wild, with big blue eyes and full lips that could usually be found curled in a dangerous smile. She knew how to dress to get a man's attention, and I could swear that there were times she dressed like this around the house to drive me crazy.

"Ethan!" Mom teased back, walking into my room and setting down the basket of laundry she'd braced against her hip. "I don't think this is an unreasonable question to be asking you. I'm your mother, and I'm just trying to look out for you! You're in college now, there should be *plenty* of opportunities to get laid, and I want you to have your chance to enjoy them! I know you enjoy your games, and I don't have a problem with that, but there are a lot of experiences that you just can't have sitting at your computer chair and you have to leave the house for! I mean, I have three kids, and you, my middle child and only son, you're the only one who doesn't seem to understand that a Friday night's meant for drinking and partying and having sex!"

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose in frustration. I wasn't looking forward to another conversation with Mom about why talking about my sex life wasn't exactly an appropriate conversation topic, and why I, a poster boy for the awkward middle child, was different from my sisters. My older sister, Taylor, might have gone to the same college as me, but between her tattoos and band and partying lifestyle, we might as well have been aliens to each other. My younger sister, Hannah, was a high school senior, a popular cheerleader with a line of boys around the block trying to hook up with her.

My sisters were as popular as they were beautiful and smart, and they were spending their Friday nights the same way they always did: as far away from here as possible. Still, they also knew well enough to leave me to my own devices, which I couldn't exactly say for Mom.

Then again, from what I could tell, there weren't that many people quite like Mom.

Back when she was in high school, my mother, then Jessica Braun instead of Jessica Miller, was a popular cheerleader and party girl herself who was constantly surrounded by friends and excitement yet still managed a 4.0 GPA, even after she got pregnant with Taylor during her senior year. Now that I was roughly the same age as she was then, she expected me to lead the same kind of life.

The problem was, that just wasn't me. While she was vivacious and outgoing (something my sisters both inherited from her in spades), I had always been kind of shy and introverted and drawn to far more traditionally "nerdy" pursuits. I guess it was one of those situations where a kid subconsciously steered into becoming the exact opposite of their parent, and while Mom had always done her best to understand me, there were some things that we simply seemed incapable of seeing eye to eye on.

"Mom," I sighed, "I'm happy here. And I'm not getting up to any trouble. Aren't you happy I'm not getting in trouble?"

While Hannah was a goody-two-shoes, Taylor had gotten into plenty trouble the last couple years, enough that I thought this might be the ace in the hole I needed.

Mom rolled her eyes at me. "I'm obligated as your mother to say *yes* to that, but as your friend, I'm telling you that life is meant to be lived, and some of that involves getting in at least a *little* trouble."

Yeah, that sounded about right for her.

Since she had become a mother fresh out of high school, and the worthless sperm donor you could call my father had abandoned us when I was four, Mom had often behaved more as a best friend to me and my sisters than she had a mother at times. Mind you, this isn't to say she was a bad mom, or anything like that. I couldn't have asked for any better, really, but when it came to asking for advice, it sometimes meant getting more unconventional answers than I was expecting when I asked.

Or getting this kind of answer when it came down to unsolicited advice.

"Well, trouble's not on the itinerary tonight," I said, smiling and hoping that would be enough.

"That's okay," she shot back, grinning. "There's a whole weekend ahead of you, and I'm sure we can find some kind of trouble for you."

Now I rolled my eyes. "No trouble."

Mom sighed. "You're not giving me a lot to work with."

"No, but I'm not getting in trouble," I said, grinning back cockily.

"Just a *little* trouble?" she insisted, smiling playfully.

"Nope," I confirmed.

"Not even a teensy bit?" Mom continued to prod, her voice getting cutesier and more insistent by the moment.

"Nope," I repeated.

Digging in my heels seemed to only frustrate her, especially since she was more used to me being a bit of a pushover when it came to matters like this.

"Still not giving me a lot to work with, but I can figure something out. You're not out of trouble for not being in trouble yet," Mom sighed, strolling in and sitting down on my bed. "Still, you don't need to get in trouble to get laid (even if it *can* help under the right circumstances). Let's start working with that."

Seeing her sitting on my bed while talking about how she wanted me to get laid... well, that was a certain kind of awkward I wasn't fully prepared to deal with yet. I wasn't blind, and I knew I lived in a house surrounded by gorgeous women, with Mom in particular getting an exceptional amount of attention from all the men around her. I'd heard all the snide comments from all the other moms of my classmates growing up, calling my mom a trashy skank, and while she *did* tend to dress and make herself up a little on the trashy side, I knew that they were just jealous of how much more beautiful than them she was. I didn't really start to notice myself just how hot she was until I started hearing the snide comments from the other boys at school talking about what they'd do to my mom if they finally had the chance, and when I finally *did* notice...

Well, yeah, you could probably understand why her sitting down on my bed and talking about me having sex was an awkward situation.

I tried to avoid letting on the precise nature of how she was making me uncomfortable by quickly answering, "I'd have to have a girlfriend first."

She laughed at my lame attempt at stalling. "You don't need a *girlfriend* to get laid."

Yup, I should've seen that one coming.

"Well, it would help," I said.

"Oh, come on, you're a good-looking young man! It shouldn't be *that* difficult for you to get a date," Mom replied, her smile softening in a disarming sort of way that I couldn't fight.

I didn't want to fight it that hard, either, since even with my own self-doubts I also knew that she wasn't all that wrong. I may have been nerdy, but my parents were both athletic and attractive, and I knew I got the better parts of both their genes. I was on the skinnier side of 6'2", but a lean one, and I did like to work out in the garage gym Mom had set up enough that while I didn't look bulky, I could nearly be confused for one of our school's athletes if I took off my shirt. With a half-handsome face and a strong chin, I probably could've been every bit a ladies' man that my father was if I put my time toward it, but that just wasn't in my nature.

"I doubt it," I muttered, shaking my head.

Alright, you could have also probably thrown in a somewhat low self-esteem in addition to those shy and introverted descriptions of myself I gave earlier. Mom, on the other hand, had never lacked for self-esteem, and didn't give in to my self-defeating words, instead seeming to take some power from it.

"Come on, stop talking shit about yourself, that's my son you're talking about there! I've been known to throw hands with bitches for saying less than that," she said, somehow smiling warmly and wryly at the same time.

I mean, she was right about that, I had seen her fight people on more than one occasion for trash-talking her, but her words weren't enough to make me feel awesome, nor did they change the uncomfortableness I'd started to feel since she sat on my bed.

Still, I had to say, they did cheer me at least a little. Mom had always had a way of doing that for me, keeping me from descending into being a completely moody, self-destructive teenager with her warmth, good humor, and occasional prods of friendly sarcasm.

She raised her hand and beckoned me. "Come on. Get over here. You're gonna get some hug time and cheering up whether you want it or not, so, you might as well do it over here instead of making me come to you."

This... well, this didn't help any with my uncomfortableness, especially since I didn't feel like I was in a state to stand up in this moment. "I'm fine right here."

Mom sighed in exasperation and patted the bed beside her firmly. "Ethan Miller, sit next to me now! I really don't want to have to ask you again."

Trying not to show my consternation, or anything else for that matter, I got up from my chair and quickly crossed the room, sitting next to her on the bed. Warmly, she wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close enough that I could lean into her, resting my head on top of hers in a way that felt more familiar than uncomfortable.

"I'm really sorry that a lot of the world sucks, and that there's people out there who've gone out of their way to make you think that you suck, but, *you* don't. And you know I'd tell you if you did, don't you?" Mom said.

I laughed. "Yeah, you would."

"See? I'd tell you if you sucked, and I'm saying that you *don't*. Not just because I'm your mom, but because it's the truth. I know I'm not, like, the mom that most kids would have expected or wanted, but I like to think having a weirdo like me as your mother is bound to have its benefits as well," she said, leaning away from me so she could better look at me.

Straightening back out, I smiled down at her. "You're not *that* much of a weirdo, Mom, but I think I get your point."

"Good, because we still have a problem that needs sorting out, and I'm going to need you to work with me if we're going to make a dent in it," she continued, smiling her bright and determined smile.

This was a smile that often led to one form of trouble or another, but I was already in too deep to deny her this. "Is it still related to you wanting me to get out there and..."

It felt weird talking about this with her, so I couldn't finish the sentence. Mom being Mom, this wasn't difficult for her to talk about at all.

"Getting you laid?" she asked bluntly. "Yup. That's still my main concern today, seeing as how I'll do anything to take you out of the funk of being a Gloomy Gus."

After an awkward little pause, I goggled at her. "Did you actually just say 'Gloomy Gus'?"

Mom frowned, sticking her tongue out briefly in disgust at herself. "Yeah, I realized that as I was saying it and already it sounds weird as fuck. Can we pretend I never said that?"

I laughed. "Happily."

She nodded approvingly. "Cool. I've done my best to avoid sounding like *that mom* for my entire life, and the moment it slips out and I do... ewww. Don't ever let me talk like that again, like, just frickin' spank me if I say something that stupid again."

Unconsciously, my eyes darted down to my mother's butt, before jumping back to her face again as I tried not to let my earlier discomfort return with any force. I don't think she saw my slipup there, and for that I was infinitely grateful. The thought of spanking Mom... well, I wasn't exactly sure the exact feeling that brought up in me, but it probably wasn't a constructive one. I was happier to have it out of my mind quickly and get this conversation in the rearview mirror.

Unmindful of my discomfort, Mom stroked a finger under her chin thoughtfully and said, "Hmmm... I'm sure we can think of someone who'd be happy to take your V-card."

Okay, so this conversation wasn't making its way to the rearview mirror anytime soon.

"Mom!" I exclaimed.

"What?" she asked, blinking at me innocently.

"Are we still on this?" I replied.

"Of course we are. Sex is an amazing and wonderful thing at your age (well, after you get a little experience, at least), and will help raise your spirits so you're not... well, so you're happier than that Gus guy everyone keeps talking about but I certainly would never, *ever* mention. And I'm willing to think outside the box and do whatever it takes to make sure you're as happy as possible," Mom explained.

I was grasping at straws for how to defend myself and hopefully escape from this situation. "Yeah, well... it's really not that big a deal to me, I swear."

"Uh huh," she teased, poking me in the side. "You're not exactly subtle, you know; I know what you do with your Friday nights, and it's not half the girls in school like it ought to be. More like half the girls on that porn site you think you're oh so stealthy in watching but are *really* bad at turning down the volume on."

Shit! I knew I should've used my headphones more often when watching those.

I blushed furiously, before trying lamely to make a comeback. "Yeah, well, you don't make any effort to keep the volume down when you've got someone over and are doing... everything you loudly do."

Despite the situation being as charged as it was and it being the main topic of conversation, I couldn't go far enough to accuse Mom of having sex with one of her random guys.

"Guilty, but I'm still getting some," Mom shot back, smiling warmly and placing her hand on mine. "But we can fix that! We'll just get you out there, build that confidence and get you laid. Now, let's see... there are certainly options in your orbit we can work with... ah! What about that Betsy girl? She couldn't take her eyes off of you when she came over last..."

Images of the cute and petite brunette from my English class, a girl with a bright smile and the biggest green eyes you'd ever seen swirled through my mind for a moment (a welcome distraction away from Mom). Mom was right; Betsy *had* been rather insistent on doing the project at my place rather than the college library like I suggested, and spent most of that time staring at me quite a bit when we should've been working. She was always trying to bring the conversation around to what I was doing later, asking if I wanted to grab some dinner and finish the project back at her place.

These were welcome images for a moment, ones I was happy to let take over my mind, before they flew apart when I shook my head.

"We had one group project together, Mom, one!" I protested, before lowering my voice. "We didn't even get that good a grade on it."

To be fair, it now seemed obvious that Betsy's distraction might've explained our bad grade.

Mom sighed. "And you couldn't seal the deal with one group project?"

"And you could've?" I shot back, even knowing it was a dumb question.

"Duh," she replied. "Five minutes, tops. Taylor, too... Hannah might take a bit longer, though."

Not wanting to linger on my mother and sisters' sex lives, I exclaimed, "Mom! I wasn't trying to seal any deal!"

"Why not?" Mom asked. "She was cute! If I was your age, I would've sealed the deal with her in an instant. Come to think of it, I probably could now..."

I thought she had to be joking at first, but the plain way she said it and the thoughtful way she looked off into space as she considered the idea of what she might've done to "seal the deal" with Betsy informed me that it was anything but.

I tried to gain some control over the conversation, even if I didn't know how it could end just yet. "Because... because I wasn't trying to do anything with her other than get a good grade, alright? I've got other things on my mind than sex."

I knew the defense was every bit as lame as it sounded the moment it left my lips.

"Your Friday night activities would beg to differ," Mom replied quickly.

"Shit, alright, I'll wear headphones next time!" I replied.

"That won't fix the problem," she said, patting me on the back. "I mean, I'll still be happy you're doing it because I don't necessarily want to hear *all* of your porn viewing habits, but we still need to figure out the best way to get you laid."

The way she said it, it wasn't even really a matter for discussion... it was more a statement of fact, of something so obvious that anyone would be unable to disagree with her. It was infuriating when she took this tone, but I was still willing to attempt to defend myself.

"Do we, though?" I asked.

"I really don't see why we shouldn't," she said.

"Well, you being my mom is one good reason," I shot back. "I'm pretty sure it's not normal to be talking to your mom about stuff like this."

"Would you rather have a mom who didn't talk to you about sex? Because mine tried to avoid that talk and believe me, all of her 'abstinence only' speeches were how I wound up with Taylor and a soon-to-be-ex-husband. Not that I'd have wanted it any other way, because I love all of you and you're the best kids a mom could ever have asked for, but, still, it illustrates my point," Mom replied, nodding.