tagIncest/TabooMother & Son: A Love Story Pt. 02

Mother & Son: A Love Story Pt. 02


Chapter 02: My Summer Vacation with Mom

Here you go -- another part of the storyline that began with Christmas with Mom & New Year's Eve with Mom. A bit confusing perhaps, but hunt those stories up before beginning the M&S: A Love Story storyline. I want to thank you all for so many wonderful observations and suggestions and questions. I take all your comments seriously and have hopefully addressed a few with this installment -- not all, but some. Stick with us, it will be a long and hopefully delicious ride.

I love that so many of you want this to be just about John and Carrie and the heart of the story is their story alone, but as we weave the razor's edge between fiction and reality, one knows that in life, our lives touch upon many others (unless one is marooned on a desert island and some of Literotica's other contributors have written about that). It will be impossible to not bring others' lives into this as John and Carrie touch their lives and are touched in return. Truth must prevail and to tell the tale truthfully (be it fiction or nonfiction), I must report it as John and Carrie live it.

Again, please keep your comments coming -- you are my inspiration and you give me valuable insight I would otherwise not have. I'll shut up and let the story begin. Enjoy!

"Yesssssss! I love it, John. Harder, son, fuck me harder!" Relishing every sweet second of thrusting my cock in and out of Mom's pussy, I marveled at the situation I found myself in. My mother was bent over our family kitchen table -- a place where I had eaten many a meal fixed by Mom, a place where I had done countless hours of homework. Mom's long, flowery dress was thrown up over her back, revealing her lush ass cheeks and no panties. Her thick pelt of pubic hair was split by thick, pink labia, embracing my cock as I moved it in and out of her wet, clasping pussy. Just the thought that this was my mother I was fucking added to the carnal pleasure I was wrapped up in.

Mom moaned and shivered as she gripped opposite sides of the table, knuckles white with effort as she braced herself as I worked my cock back and forth. My hands slipped underneath the fabric of her dress and found her breasts, unfettered by a bra. I cupped her massive tits, palms rubbing against her thick swollen nipples. "I love you, Mom," I whispered. "I love making love to you -- fucking my mother, making her cum!"

Mom pushed back against me, meeting my thrusts and moaned, "Yes, make me cum, son! Make Momma cum before your father gets home!" I glanced at the clock on the wall -- one of those silly cat clocks with the moving eyes and tail. I realized my father would be pulling up at any second and I did want Mom to have an orgasm before the old man's presence clouded up the house. "Yessss, like that. I love your cock, John!" Mom moaned as I started rapidly and violently thrusting into her slick pussy while my fingers pinched at her rubbery stiff nipples.

We heard the loud rumble of my father's pick-up truck pull in off the street and I slammed myself deep into Mom's womb, letting the sensation of her pussy muscles clamping down and milking my shaft take me to the brink and beyond. As I flooded my mother's pussy with my hot semen, Mom moaned and sobbed, "Cummming, son! You are making Momma cum, darling!"

For a few, long drawn out seconds, it seemed as if I wouldn't be able to stop shooting sperm into my mother's womb and even more unlikely that she would able to release her tight, loving grip on my penis. We both sobbed aloud our incestuous pleasure as we heard the old man's truck door open with a creak and then slam shut.

Mom's body trembled with effort as she struggled to regain control of herself, still in the clutches of her orgasm. We heard the garage door roll upwards and then my father clattering with something at his work bench. As we heard his footsteps come up the short set of steps that led into the utility room next to the kitchen, Mom's cunt finally relaxed enough for me to slip out her wet, hot embrace. Mom spun around, letting her dress fall down to conceal that she wasn't wearing any panties, and bent over to give my still mostly erect cock a quick, hungry suck before yanking up my khaki shorts and kissing me.

When my father walked into the kitchen, I was sitting at the table, a bowl of half shelled beans in front of me. Mom was now bent over in front of the stove, peering in at a roast that she had in the oven. Even as the old man grunted a greeting, I couldn't help but admire Mom's voluptuous ass and smile at the thought that unseen, my sperm was starting to leak out of her wonderful pussy.

Dad glanced at me and shook his head. I guess the fact that a son was helping out in the kitchen was a sign of my lack of manliness. "Where's the twins?" he asked, reaching into the refrigerator for a beer.

Mom turned and replied, "Over at school. They had a briefing today on their trip They'll be home by dinnertime." My brothers had for several years attended a church camp and now were senior counselors. They would be gone for four weeks, helping out with camping, sports and canoeing activities. They loved it and wouldn't have missed it for the world.

My father grunted and said, "Well, I won't be. Me and some of the fellows decided to get up a summer bowling league. We start tonight."

Mom looked dismayed. "But I've got a roast in the oven! Aren't you going to at least sit and eat dinner with us?"

My father snorted and said, "Nope. I'll get something at the bowling alley. Besides, we're gonna talk about our fishing trip to Montana -- got lots to plan." Dad was planning to take a week's vacation to go fly fishing in Montana with his friends. He hadn't consulted Mom, just told her when he would be going. My father walked out of the room without another word and Mom looked at him with disgust and then shook her head.

I know there was no love lost between them -- that there hadn't been anything but the ashes of a long dead marriage between them for many years. Dad had turned a cold shoulder to Mom long before I became her lover.

Still, one had to admire Mom as day in and day out, she tried to be a dutiful wife and a good mother. Perhaps it was because we were now lovers that I seemed so much more in tune with what was going on around the house and I marveled that my father and my brothers took this wonderful woman for granted. More than ever I could see that my brothers were their father's sons. They came and went, always respectful to Mom, but seeing and treating her like she was more or less the house servant than the most important woman in their lives.

I smiled at Mom and she smiled back, warming my heart and making my cock stir with desire. At forty-two, Mom was in the bloom of her beauty. Her straight black hair framed her face, drawing focus to her blue eyes that crackled with life. Mom had a sexy, Reubenesque body -- her sexy figure dominated by her heavy, pendulous breasts and her still curvaceous legs. It was hard to imagine what was wrong with my father that he pretty much ignored my mother.

He walked back through the kitchen, carrying his bowling ball bag. He finished off his beer while staring out at the back yard. "You finished trimming the hedges, John?" He asked.

"Yes sir." I'd spent the day getting our yard into good shape. I'd trimmed all the bushes and the hedge. I'd even repaired the back gate and fixed a few loose boards in the backyard fence.

"Make sure you clean them shears up before you put them away," my father muttered.

"You're welcome." I replied, sarcasm in my voice. In the light of my love affair with Mom, my contempt of my father was greater than ever.

He glanced at me, frowning and said, "Smart-ass." He turned and headed for the door. "Don't wait up. I'll be late," my father said and then he was gone. We heard his truck start up and move away. On the bright side, that was the most he had said to me at one time since I got home.

Mom moved to me and climbed into my lap. "Your father is such a jerk. I'm sorry he couldn't even pay you a decent compliment about your work."

"It's all right, Mom. What he thinks doesn't matter. The only thing that's important to me is the woman in my arms right now. I love you, Mom. I'm the luckiest man on the planet."

Mom grinned and ground herself against me, her massive breasts feeling wonderful against my chest, despite the fabric that separated us. "I love you too, John." We kissed then, our mouths opening and tongues dancing together in a passionate soul kiss." "And you're the luckiest motherfucker on the planet is what you are!" Mom added after the kiss.

And Mom was absolutely correct. Since Christmas my world had totally turned around. As I watched Mom finish up cooking dinner, I considered how lucky I was. I was in love with the most wonderful woman in the world and wonder of wonders, she was in love with me. I mean love -- not just lust (although we were blessed with that too).

My mother was my true soul mate. When we were apart, I was incomplete, a part of me missing, leaving a tangible ache within me that would not subside until I was with my mother again. When I was with Mom, everything seemed better, brighter, more intensely alive. We could be sleeping, taking a walk or a drive, reading quietly together -- everything seemed better when Mom was around. And I wanted so much for her -- her happiness and well being was now my primary concern. To see Mom smiling with joy made my heart soar. We fit together perfectly, our personalities meshing together to become one being. At times, it was almost as if we could read each other's minds. I had no doubt then and do not now doubt at all that this was meant to be.

And then there was the lust. In all my days, I've never felt the burning passion for anyone else that I feel for my mother and all these years, I have basked in her carnal desire for me. Neither of us is ashamed to admit that the fact that we are mother and son has made our love and lust for each other all the more powerful. There is almost an indescribable wonder to know that this person you are joining with -- sinking your flesh into theirs -- is in fact your own mother.

There is tremendous carnal satisfaction knowing that as you put your cock inside your mother that you are returning home -- to the flesh of your flesh. I will never know as much sexual gratification with anyone like I have experienced as my mother's lover. Mom feels it as much as I do, insisting to this day that I call her Mom rather than her given name whenever possible. "We are mother and son, after all," Mom likes to say. "When you say, 'I love you, Mom,' while your cock is inside me, son -- it sends such delicious chills through my body!"

And in those early days, that first summer after Mom and I become lovers, there was the added excitement to our lusty desires that we were carrying out our love affair right under the old man's nose! I know that some would castigate us for violating the vows of my parents' marriage, but in truth, Dad had abandoned those vows long before Mom and I first kissed as lovers. I had merely claimed the love of a wonderful woman who had been emotionally abandoned by whom I consider the greatest fool to ever have lived. And I am not ashamed to admit that I to this day derive some Oedipal satisfaction that I had taken my father's place as Mom's husband and lover in every way.

It was early June and I had been home almost two weeks. Mom had driven to Chicago and after spending a night sating ourselves with incestuous sex, we had returned to the town where I had grown up. Mom and I quickly discovered that despite the near constant presence of Dad and my now seventeen year old little brothers, we could not keep our hands off each other. It seemed like every possible moment, we were in each others arms, kissing and making out like newlyweds. We took awful risks, that in retrospect should make us tremble with fright at what we gambled with not to be caught, but we could not resist our incestuous temptations and in those early weeks in the house where I grew up, we made mad, passionate love whenever we could seize the moment.

Several mornings, Mom had rushed into my room and sucked my cock while Dad was taking his morning shower. I had insisted that Mom lose her panties whenever possible and she had taken to wearing long, flowing summer dresses that were easy to lift up and give me access to her constantly wet pussy. Twice I had fucked Mom standing up at the sink while just a few yards away, my father and my brothers were watching the Cubs' game on television. I fucked Mom in my parents' bed while my father and his buddies grilled burgers in the back yard. Many nights, Mom crept into my bedroom and we made love while my father and brothers snored ignorantly in rooms on either side of mine. We knew that at any moment we could be caught and that made our incestuous lovemaking all the more powerful.

Time alone, safe from interruption came soon enough though. The following Sunday afternoon, Mom and I saw the twins off to their church camp, waving goodbye to them as they waved back from the passenger bus carrying them off to Wisconsin and the wilderness church camp that they enjoyed so much. Dad was due to leave three days later, but Mom told him that she was traveling to Kentucky to visit her grandmother's old place and that I was going along to help drive. Dad grunted in his disinterested fashion, too busy preparing for his fishing trip and barely managed to say goodbye when we left early Monday morning.

With each mile we traveled, we became more and more relaxed, enjoying the lovely summer day and each other, able to be openly a couple once again. We drove most of the day, stopping to spend the night in middle Kentucky in what folks call Bourbon country. We spent the night in a quaint, old Bed & Breakfast inn, making love into the wee hours of the morning in an old fashioned brass bed, much older and nicer than the one in my apartment. I relished the image of Mom underneath me, her legs wrapped around my hips as she gripped the brass rails of the headboard while I thrust my swollen cock into her hot pussy, our joined bodies deep in the old soft mattress. The old bed squeaked and rattled with our every movement.

The next morning as we ate breakfast with the other guests, we drew several curious and interested looks from our fellow visitors and I wondered if it was the banging and thumping of the brass bed or our impassioned cries of orgasmic pleasure that had likely kept others awake. Mom blushed like a new bride and I beamed with pride. As we packed our things to go, Mom ran her hand over the brass filigree of the headboard and said, "When we finally are living together, I want us to have a bed like this, son." Mom's words thrilled me. I loved it when we talked about our future -- that Mom and I living together as lovers and husband and wife as well as mother and son was not just a fantasy, but something that would soon be a reality.

By midday, we had moved on into eastern Kentucky, winding our way deep into the Appalachian Mountains. It had been several years since I had been to Mom's childhood home, but I remembered most of the route that took us to her hometown where we checked into a motel for the night. Mom was pensive and a bit distracted, I think anxious to go visit her old home, but it was getting on towards late afternoon and she decided to wait till morning. We spent the late afternoon and evening strolling around the town as Mom pointed out various places of her youth -- her old high school, the still open soda shop where she and Debbie and their friends would hang out, and the now closed Princess Movie Theater.

That night, Mom surprised me when we climbed into bed with a request to just cuddle with her. I was more than happy to oblige her, wrapping my arms around my mother and just holding her naked body close to mine. I could feel her breath on my chest as she nuzzled me and I could smell that sweet aroma of jasmine that seems to cling to Mom as I stroked her black hair. We lay there awake for a long time, not speaking, but just being, comfortable in the silence with the knowledge of the love that existed between us.

The next morning, we got off to an early start, Mom looking absolutely delicious in a strapless summer dress. Having left the old man and the boys behind, Mom had returned to her sexier outfits and was incredibly hot in her yellow dress that left much of her meaty breasts uncovered and although the material clung to her body tightly, it seemed to give the illusion that at any moment Mom might simply pop out of the dress.

We made a few stops along the way -- a flower shop for three bouquets and several miles out of town on an old and narrow road, we stopped at an old roadside grocery to pick up old fashioned bologna and crackers and drinks for a picnic lunch. Twenty miles or so from town, we got off the main road and on to a gravel road that wound up into the hills for a few more miles. From there, we took another gravel road that went steeply up and led us halfway up a hill where we pulled into the front yard of an old house.

I remembered this place well. As a child, we had often visited Mama Polly's home. An old tobacco barn stood up along one side of the hill, the old wood structure leaning dangerously to one side. Mama Polly's house was still in good shape, the walls and windows intact. Mom had inherited it from her grandmother and paid a local man to keep an eye on it and do any necessary repairs.

Mom handed me the keys and I unlocked the front door. It was old, maybe a hundred years or more, built when craftsmen did the work and even a simple place like this had fine detailed work that was evident everywhere you looked. A two story house, mostly open space downstairs with the living room and dining room running together -- the kitchen and a storage pantry walled off to the western side. Upstairs were four bedrooms and a bathroom (added only in the 1950s -- an outhouse still stands outside).

We walked into the kitchen, Aunt Polly's old wood stove still sitting in one corner and an old, roughly hewed table, made smooth from constant use, in the middle of the room. I remembered what Mom and Aunt Debbie had said about my grandfather and Mama Polly. I pointed to the table and asked, "Um, is that the table where Mama Polly and Grandpa..."

Mom looked at the table for a long time, seemingly lost in thought -- maybe remembering things from long ago. Finally she nodded and gave me a wicked grin. Moving over there, she replied, "Yes, the same table where I first saw my Daddy fucking his mother." Mom leaned over the table on the side that faced a side door and gave me a sultry look. "Mama Polly was leaning over the table like this, her dress thrown up and her front buttons undone with her enormous titties hanging out. Daddy was fucking her hard from behind. Polly was throwing her butt back to meet Daddy's cock. Kind of like what we were doing the other day." Mom wiggled her own voluptuous ass for emphasis and winked at me. "Maybe later, we can recreate the moment!"

I felt my cock hardening in my jeans and in a husky voice, I replied, "God, I hope so!"

Upstairs, we walked through the empty rooms, Mom showing me where on a sleepover at their grandmother's, Debbie had first tasted Mom's pussy. "I imagine Mama Polly heard my moans and squeaks and she knew what was going on, but she left us be." Mom laughed out loud. "The next morning, Debbie's face and mine were so red from rug burn from our furry bushes cause we just kept eating each other out all night long, but Polly never let on that she knew."

Downstairs again and in the kitchen, both of us kept glancing over at the kitchen table. Mom finally turned to me and said, "John, when we're free and clear and able to live our lives as we want, I want us to move back here. We'll fix this place up and make it our home. I love this place -- its home to me and I want to live here with you."

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