tagIncest/TabooI Was Mom's Sextoy

I Was Mom's Sextoy




For years it had built up; this was no new development. Sure, I had been kicked out of their home when I turned 18, but I had not witnessed such behavior before. My step-father Mal, 48, had always had a taste for the bottle. Now that I was out on my own, he seemed to be 'stewed' every weekend like clockwork. This didn't help the businesses that he was managing (a restaurant, a dollar bargain store, convenience stores, etc.) They had been worth $10 million just a year ago when inherited by my mother but now were only worth a fraction of that, perhaps $1 million.

My long suffering mother Sue, 39, was a true loyal soldier, putting up with his weaknesses. She often would have to jump in to the fray, covering for her hubby when he was 'out of it'. Though she was supposed to be a woman of leisure at this point (after the huge inheritance), his mismanagement had forced her to work, on the average, up to 50 hours per week.

When he forced me to leave home when I was 18 plus one week, he said 'it was for my own good.' Well, with only a high school diploma, there weren't that many good jobs out there, in the Pacific Northwest. Somehow, I ended up as a lumberjack, of all things. It did wonders for my physique, being the hardest work conceivable, but it was fraught with peril. The very day I was going to visit them, our helicopter flew lower than they were supposed to; I was almost hit by a swinging conifer freshly cut and being airlifted off a hillside.

Every time that I had visited the good parents, it had been because my mom had asked me to do a 'mini intervention' to try and get her husband back on the straight and narrow. I had done my best, with lectures, subtle and not so subtle, about the great home, solid businesses, and wonderful wife that he had, which was being put at risk by the dreaded bottle. Instead of coming around, he got more and more resentful, finally concluding that mom and I were in cahoots (which we were, but only to help and not a conspiracy.) Our mistake was in assuming that this was an illness and the business losses a fluke. In reality, he liked getting tipsy and staying that way. As for the businesses, sad to say, he was having a field day using their assets, both monetary and human (his plain 20 year old secretary always seemed out of the office when he was...)

My mother and I had always had a close bond. As an only child, she had basically raised me by herself. As her husband got more and more distant, with his philandering and carousing, his interest and abilities in their marital bed went from mediocre to non-existent. He looked at my mom from their first day together as an economic conquest, due to her familial wealth, and not a romantic one. Mom had always had a dazzling figure. Some of her relatives even wanted her to try Hollywood. She might well have made a splash there, but she was only five foot one, too small for modeling and legitimate stage work. It was a pity, too: with her incredible 36D-23-36 figure, she could have been the queen of all cinema, up to and including triple-XXX.

The first time I visited home after having turned 18, it had been six months. My mother had asked me to intervene on her hubby. I rushed over, only to find that he had to fly to Reno for a convention. A call by my mom found that his homely secretary was also going to 'represent the company' there.

Mom met me at the door in her simple green houserobe, padding around on her bare smooth feet. Though covered up almost from head to toe, she still looked gorgeous to me. Our mother/son kiss at the door lingered so long I was afraid I was going to wear out my lips. I pulled her fabulous body, concealed under that robe, to me. As we kissed, knowing that he was not around AND that he was cheating on mom, we both had a perfectly valid reason to do almost anything.

I would never forget it. After the kiss ended, mom kept herself fused to my lower half. Looking up at her six foot two son, blue eyes shimmering, she said:

Mom: "I am so appreciative that you could come over on such short notice. I know it's not the most pleasant drive, a winding mountain highway with our famous Oregon morning fog. God, that job of yours has done wonders for you, honey." [She straightened my hair, then used her other hand to follow the sweep of my physique from broad shoulders to chiseled arms. She actually cooed with eyes closed after squeezing my bulging biceps.]

Mom: "You have become quite a 'hunk' since leaving your old broken down mommy. It's a good thing I AM your mom, because otherwise, feeling those big muscles of yours, my nipples would be popping, and I might be getting a bit damp in the southern regions." [She came up to me and gave me another kiss. It was even hotter than the first one. The thinness of her robe and my cotton shirt let me feel those erect nipples of hers...oh mama.]

Me: "Mom, a part of me is going to hate myself in the morning, but I have to remind you that you are my mother and I am your son. Besides, you are a married woman. How would it look for me to have 'relations' with my own married mom?" [She was stunned that I was such a 'good little boy'. All of the training she gave me as a youth now, ironically, was coming back to haunt her.]

So here I was. I had driven a hazardous road some 50 miles to give my step-father a lecture for his own good. Now, he was in Nevada cheating on my mom, my mom was rubbing up against me wanting it, and I had to decide what to do. If I had any sense, society be damned, I should have grabbed that gorgeous mom of mine and drilled her good till the rooster crowed. I was afraid I'd be taking advantage of an obviously distraught, and possibly tipsy, mother. So, I said I would use my old nautilus machine (I had never had a chance to come and pick it up after the forced move-out), take a nap, and then drag home. Mom was disappointed.

I was getting a fabulous workout, putting the bar higher and higher, benching about 400, when mom came with refreshments. She handed me my favorite, grape juice, and had an orange juice for herself. My juice was bitter; she said it was organic and I just wasn't used to 'real juice'.

I guess I should stop here and point out we were in a solarium, my weights were off in the far corner with no other furniture nearby. As a result, my mother had to sit on my lap, facing me.

So here I was, bare-chested, wearing only my workout shorts which I always kept in the car trunk, sitting on a weight-training bench. My supersexy mother, blonde hair, blue eyes, lovely face, incredible figure, was seated in my lap facing me. She made it crystal clear that she was incredibly horny and needed it 'bad'. In the face of that, I had shown moral correctness that surprised not only her but me also.

When she got up from my lap, there was a big damp spot on the right leg of my shorts where her robe had been pushed up as she sat. Mom was nice enough to give me another fresh 'organic' grape juice. Doing workouts, I could consume an almost infinite amount of fluids, so the drinks kept coming. I eventually had four 12 ounce glasses full. Each time she brought them in, I felt a little bit weaker, a little bit dizzier. I noted that I was getting real tired (from the trip perhaps) and had to stop. The last barbell curl I did was 40 pounds, which I couldn't complete; just an hour before I had curled 200.

Mom: "Sweetheart, you said that you are off this entire weekend. We still have half your clothes in your old room. I think you might be a little worn out from the workout and the long trip here. You might need help, but I can't help you all the way to your old room through the garage. Let me help you to my room; you can crash there and get whatever sleep you need."

I tried to talk but couldn't. I staggered to my feet and leaned on her as I dragged myself the few feet to her bedroom. Had I been sober, I could've looked thru the archway to the kitchen. There was the evidence. Welch's Grape Juice and some sweet red wine. I had imbibed a heavy dose of booze concealed by the grape juice. Together with the workout, my alcohol content must have been thru the roof.

I collapsed on the bed, with mom helping me drag myself to the middle. I turned on my back and was out, cold. Thirty minutes went by.

Mom: "Sweetheart, how are we doing? Jim, darling?" [She had no intention of discussing anything; she was ensuring that I was out cold. She stood by the bed, literally licking her lips. Son or not, I was a six foot two hunk who had just pressed 400 pounds on equipment her spineless husband used, struggling to lift 50. Even she bested him at 100, what with her having to do warehouse work and clean up on the stores every week. Her eyes took in my football/lumberjack physique and decided to make her move.]

Knowing I was out cold, mom went to the foot of the bed, bent over, and yanked my cotton workout shorts off. She gasped. Her wimpy cheating hubby had trouble filling his old jock, size XXS. My jock was overfilled, with my cockhead clearly three inches above it, the size XXXL. She noticed that her advances to me had not gone unappreciated in spite of my 'goody two-shoes' moral posturing. My testes were big, swollen to the size of oranges, heavy with seed. As she contemplated all of that potent sperm stored up by her virile son, a part of her snapped. Whatever self-control she still had evaporated. She knew she could never get that elastic jock off me, so she went to her drawer and got the scissors. With a snip, the elastic was cut, and the enormous pressure it was under restraining my huge phallus was released.

Mom's hand went to that babymaker, boldly stroking the length of it. She gently sat down, using her right to cradle my cock and the left to drag a discrete finger up and down its length. Sure enough, it started growing in her hands. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, and the final ten inches; Mom's eyes were as big as dinner plates as it reached that size. She then decided to harmlessly get me off; she could clean up any mess and I would never know about it. She continued key-holing with one hand and cupped my family jewels with the other. She couldn't believe the size and impressive weight of my balls, swollen with sperm. Mom changed her mind right then and there.

She had always wanted a sizeable family. With the big inheritance, it was presumed that they would easily afford a big family. However, between his business losses and his 'shenanigans', family matters suffered and eventually came to nothing. Meanwhile mom was still vital, healthy, and fertile at 39. As a matter of record, she was only a day or two from her peak fertility on that very day. Mom decided to go all the way seeing that gorgeous ten inch baby maker, and those family jewels drooping from the enormous weight of all that potent sperm. She dropped her little green robe and climbed on board her strapping son. I was flat on my back, my shorts pulled off, my jock cut and lying beneath me. The only thing between my rock hard ten inch cock and my mother's unprotected and very fertile vagina was, well, nothing.

Mom went above my lengthy cock, laying as it was like one of the fallen logs I had to deal with in the coastal rain forests. She then backed into me, picking it up as it slid in. She gasped as it filled her up like none had done before. When she finished backing herself onto my love tube, I had bottomed out against her innermost walls, my oversized uncut cockhead scraping and tingling her sensitive tissues there. She had never had an intimate visitor to her cervical region before, neither her first nor her second hubby reaching.

Mom began by slowly moving her hips up and down, rubbing my cockhead like an anchor being dragged behind a car. It raised the most delicious feelings and she didn't want to stop until that itch was scratched. All of a sudden, to her horror, she noticed I was coming to. She started to get off me, prepared to run to the kitchen and plead innocence. Before she could even get off me, she felt two powerful hands grip her by the bum. Stunned, she looked at me. My eyes were still closed; I might have been dreaming or in an alcoholic stupor:

Me: "Oh mommy, is that you. How long I have dreamed of this moment. God, I wanted so much to have you, to love you, to fuck you. I overheard it when you spoke to your best friend, telling her of your longing for more children. I went to my room and had to relieve myself. Thinking of you, your belly swollen with child, I thought of the ecstasy I would have in making that child myself. Just that phone call and those thoughts made me relieve myself three more times before bed. This was a number of years ago. At that time, I vowed to myself that one day I would be the man of the house...that I would get you pregnant. This was before you reminded me about how to be a good citizen and a good man. "

She felt the power of my hands and now the power of my hips as I joined her in making love. Our lips met; I could only kiss in the sloppy fashion that drunks do. It was nonetheless white hot as our bodies slapped together, making the bed springs sing. For reasons I am not sure of, I felt compelled to take control.

Instead of flipping her over, I needed to show her how much man she was dealing with. I got up, with her still connected, and proceeded to use my powerful hands to raise and lower her upon my huge cock. Her eyes closed in passion, making me bend lower to kiss her. We made out until we both could feel my big cock swell. She felt my balls pull tight, then shudder and shake. Whatever magical qualities are attributed to it, my lengthy ten inch cock was just a pipeline, allowing the outpouring of my potent seed from my swollen testes into her fertile womb. Once the industrial transfer was complete, it was now her womb that was swollen, overfilled with liquid seed, baby batter. I gently put mom down at the end of the bed. She quickly got the idea and raised her shapely legs into her chest, affording me a view of the sopping entrance to her fertile garden.

I bent over, waiting. Sure enough, I was rewarded, seeing the largest cream pie in human history. Like a solid wall of thick off-white cream, a tsunami of semen, almost 100% sperm, was oozing out of her fertile vagina. Mom snapped me out of it:

Mom: "Sweetheart, it is up to you. You probably are enjoying the sight of your old mother dripping like some tramp in an adult movie. On the other hand, that is YOUR PRECIOUS SEED, and I was just wondering if you really want it wasted on the bedspread?" [At that, I leaped to my feet. After only two or three 'yanks on the crank', I was up at full ten inch staff again. I bent over and carefully used my big cock to lovingly push my potent seed back into mom's fertile depths. She moaned in satisfaction to the warmth injected into her.]

I literally collapsed at this point. I had been infused with booze, made to work a full day earlier, allowed to do a full workout, and now used like a ride at Disney Land. Frankly, I loved it. But there are limits to human endurance, and I had reached and surpassed mine. I fell onto my back again, nodding off.

For her part, mom went to the living room. She put on the big LCD TV, watching TV on the couch, her legs propped up to keep that valuable baby batter pooled where it had to be. She didn't know, she couldn't know...but woman's intuition told her that for all the outpouring of love, passion, pure sex, and potent seed, we hadn't gotten the job done.

She waited until the end of Oprah's show where, as expected, she 'generously' gave out expensive gifts to the audience that didn't cost her anything. Mom clicked it off and went to the mirror above the hutch by our dining room table. She patted her flat tummy, which sounded hollow like a melon. How she longed for it to be swollen with another baby. Turning sideways to check her fabulous figure, she was proud that her perfect breasts didn't sage. As she pulled on the pouting nipples, making them angry, they looked like thumbs sticking out. Mom thought back to her first pregnancy (carrying me). The nurse marveled at mom's fabulous bustline; even engorged with warm, sweet breastmilk, those bra-busting jugs refused to sink even an inch.

It was all ancient history now. What consumed her thoughts that day was the fact that she had the ultimate male in her room, under her control. His precious seed could put new life inside her fertile womb. She knew that she had to selfishly go in there once again and get another seeding. Walking on her gorgeous bare smooth feet, she wiggled in, breasts bouncing and jiggling. It was baby-time.

Once back in her room, she contemplated waking me. She thought better of that and decided to just do what she had done before. Naked and beautiful, my sexy mother climbed on all fours above me. Instead of dragging herself back up against me, this time she just reached down and put my still hard cock into her sopping pussy. She fell heavily on my cock and sat upright, awaiting my response.

Me: [Eyes fluttering, barely awake.] "God mom, that first time was a mistake. We took advantage of each other, but I shouldn't have allowed my lust to overcome my sense of values. I can't do it again; besides the moral issues, I have never been able to do it more than once. [Not true.] So please, let's just get to sleep."

I was certain that that would be enough talk. Hell, I thought of my experiences with other women (as few as there were). They were so busy fending me off that they required absolutely no speech whatever to be talked out of sex.

Now, here was my mom, the subject of my earliest fantasies, with a figure far better than any woman I had dated. She wanted to have sex...no, she wanted to make love, make up for all our lost moments together, and make a baby. I had tried to be a 'good little boy'...really. Could I resist this one last time and retain some remnants of a morally upright character? Such a dilemma: reach for correctness or reach for the goal that had consumed my youth after puberty, something about doing a number on mom, and getting her pregnant.

Well, like a good little boy, I got up from that bed. There I stood, erect and strong, confronted by a very sexy and determined mother. She wanted a baby, MY baby, and wanted it made that very moment. Decisions, decisions: I made my choice, lifting that MILF soccer mom sex pot up and tossing her onto her marital bed. I flexed my bulging biceps in triumph of this, the ultimate conquest. I mounted my beautiful mother, allowing her loving hands to gently guide me in. Both of us were so consumed with each other and the prospect of making a baby, neither of us noticed that we were not alone.

As plain as his secretary was, even she could not suffer a full weekend with my mother's 'old man' and his boyish sized equipment. So, his secretary had taken an early flight back. He did the same separately. Now he was at the bedroom door, watching in shock as his estranged musclebound son did a number on his own mother.

While he watched, we continued our hot love session oblivious to his presence. In the middle of our fuck, I was so exhausted I fell over to my side. This availed him a clear view of the action as he peeped in from the partly opened door. Mom was desperate for my seed. She held open the slavering lips of her fertile pussy with one hand; with the other, she grabbed my ten inch club, cranking it up for action. Her hand was a blur as she felt it swell with power and virility. Finally, she aimed it for her hole. He jealously watched in horror one long gusher after another coming out. He lost count, but it was fully eight streams of potent sperm that splashed near or directly inside mom's hungry gateway. She then used the cock like a shovel, collecting any loose seed and then pushing it all in to the deepest part of her. Now it was her turn to collapse.

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byclinton09© 0 comments/ 146148 views/ 97 favorites

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