My son Edward is rather...odd. That's the only word for it. That's not to say that he's simple or stupid; in fact, he possesses near-genius level intelligence, as far as I can tell. Nor is he mentally ill. It's just that his mental cogs don't seem to mesh with those of the rest of the world sometimes.
He's never done anything harmful to himself or anyone, but his judgment has frequently been questionable. For example, his decision when he was twelve that he would dye himself purple with Kool-Aid. He did a very good job of it; he was some shade purple for months. I'll admit that it was rather attractive on him, and he did love the attention, but it wasn't something that was easily repaired.
Ditto for his decision, from the age of ten (precisely the age of ten; he started on his birthday) to speak henceforth and forevermore in a middle-class British accent. We're from Oklahoma.
Maybe it's my fault. I've been raising him on my own since his quirky musician father died in a freak drumming accident just before we were scheduled to wed (don't ask). Fortunately, we've had a large support system on both sides of the family since, but a boy really needs a father to keep him in hand.
So I guess it shouldn't have surprised me when I came home from work one day to find him strutting around the living room singing at the top of his lungs. That's happened before, but what he was wearing, and what he was singing, was more than a little odd.
When I entered the living room, his back was to me, and he was waggling his rear end back and forth comically. This was odd enough, but what he was wearing was odder yet: he appeared to be clad in nothing more than some kind of sheer leggings that stretched tenuously over his lean shanks and buttocks. And he was singing, loudly, a modified version of that old Fountains of Wayne hit, "Stacy's Mom":
My own mom has got it goin' on
She's all I want, and I've waited for so long
Mommy can't you see, you're the perfect girl for me!
I know it might be wrong, but I'm in love with my own mom!
Well. That was something new.
I cleared my throat. "Edward, honey, what's going on?" I had realized, by now, that he was wearing my pantyhose. Oh, dear.
He spun around, his bright smile lighting up the room. But that's not what caught my eye. Swaying before him, protruding from a hole torn in the front panel of the pantyhose, was his enormous erection. Now, I was quietly aware that he'd hit puberty long since, but I hadn't had an opportunity to see him nude in quite some time (the purple Kool-Aid incident, actually). I'm afraid I gasped.
He glanced down and grasped his rather large cock, wraggling it my direction. "Hullo, Mum!" he said happily. "I was just having a bit of a wank. Thinking of you, actually." He reached down and stroked his erection, and his grin broadened as I gasped and dropped my attaché case.
"Edward Ethan! What do you think you're doing!!!"
He arched a fine eyebrow. "I'm having sex with myself."
"Right here in the middle of the living room when you knew I was coming home!"
"Well, yes. I was hoping you'd join me, and we could have a bit of family fun, don't you know."
I dropped into an armchair. I had to admit that I was intrigued...my son is nicely-built, with chiseled aristocratic features, and he already had a full man's size, and yes, I had not had sex in quite some time. He pirouetted about, singing, a sly look on his face, and I never took my eyes off his rigid boyhood. "My I ask how this came about?" I finally said. "You've never shown any interest in me before."
"Never thought of it, actually." He paused to stroke his cock and keep it erect. "However, I learned from my friend Alf that he was sexing up his sister. Gave me ideas. As I have no sisters, of course I thought of my dear sexy Mum." He stopped his dancing and knelt before me, stoking my hair. "You really are quite beautiful, you know. Once I thought of the two of us becoming lovers, I could think of nothing else." He stood up suddenly, his cock bouncing provocatively, and spun around like a model on a catwalk. "What think you?"
I had to know. "What's with the pantyhose?"
"Got your attention, dinnit?"
Indeed it had, and for reasons I didn't understand, the view of him wearing my hose, his cock poking through and pointing toward the ceiling, had my cunt drooling. But dammit, this was my son! I squirmed uncomfortably in the chair, and he lifted that eyebrow again. "Ready for me to fuck you yet?"
"No!" I protested. "We can't have sex! You're my son and I'm you're mother!"
"And yet I really, really want to have sex with you." He sang his silly little song again. "How about a boink, then?"
"Ooooh!" I growled in frustration. "You're incorrigible, Edward!"
"And you're in need, Mum." He looked at my tits, and I'm sure he noticed my nipples had hardened. Smiling slightly, he stroked his cock again, drawing my attention to it. "I think you'd enjoy bouncing on this, milady."
"Incest is a sin," I told him, but I didn't really believe it myself. After all, it's practiced more than once in the Bible. Lot's daughters, remember?
"Incest is a social construct," he said flatly, "designed to limit interfamily conflict. Not an issue in this family, with just me and thee." He strutted around the room, and I couldn't help but admire his manly physique, highlighted as it was by my pantyhose. Silly boy.
"And what about pregnancy?"
"Well, that too. But it's no longer an inevitability. And FYI, I would be honored to father children with you, if you ever cared to go that far, Mummy."
Enough was enough. I stood suddenly and growled, pointing imperious at the floor in front of me, "That's it, young man! Come here, right now!"
He approached me hesitantly, looking vaguely alarmed, obviously aware he'd gone too far. When he arrived at the designated spot, I looked him up and down expressionlessly...then sank to my knees and deep-throated that invitingly hard cock.
My heart was beating so hard, my thoughts such a whirl, that I barely heard him say, "Ah. Oh. Well then."
I pulled back until less than an inch of him remained in my mouth, then eased back down until my lips were kissing his sparse pubic hair; he groaned. Then I did it again, and again, and again. And then he filled my mouth with what I now realize is the sweetest thing any loving mother can ever taste: her son's own incestuous seed.
After that, we sat down to dinner, which he had waiting for us in the oven, and said nothing more of it. But he was still wearing his sexy little outfit, and it wasn't long before he was long again. I glanced at his cock occasionally as I spooned beef Stoganoff into my mouth and spoke inconsequential things about my day.
When we were both done, I stood up and started unbuttoning my blouse. "I think the dishes can wait. Let's get to it, shall we?"
He grinned. "Yes, let's." He rounded the table and stepped up behind me, sliding my blouse slowly off my shoulders. He kissed my right shoulderblade. "Ah, your skin is just as lovely as I'd expected." Then he pulled my brassiere straps off my shoulders and pushed it down to my waist, revealing my ample tits to his lustful gaze. He wrapped his hands around them forthwith, and started playing with my tit-flesh.
"You know I've never been much for tradition, Mummy," he breathed against my neck as he massaged my breasts and tweaked my rampant nipples. "And I tend to consider your womanly center a treasure of treasures, something to wait for." He actually said that: 'womanly center.' Before continuing, he licked and kissed the side of my neck, and kept rubbing nipples in a way that was making my insides melt. Then he whispered, "What say I stick my willy in your bum first?"
That I hadn't expected...but it sounded interesting. Within thirty seconds I'd dropped my skirt and wriggled out of my undies, and my son had me bent over the table. As I lay there, my nipples pressed against the cool Formica, I felt his breath on my vulva as he examined me. "So tight," he murmured. He pressed his finger into my anus, and I jumped; then he started pumping it in and out to loosen me up a bit. It felt good, so I let him do it for a minute. Then I observed dryly, "I was expecting something bigger in there."
"And you shall have it!" he vowed gallantly. "But first, something completely different." Next I felt something soft and insistent probing at my asshole: his tongue, liberally lubricating my pucker with saliva and thrusting a fraction of an inch inside at a time. It felt good, damned good, to have him rimming me. After five minutes, he pulled way. "Nice," he decided. "Nice and slick. Edward approves."
Then he pressed his warm, fat cockhead against my anus and started to push gently. I hadn't had a cock up my ass in ages (or anywhere else, actually), so it was a very tight fit indeed, especially given his above-average size, and approving Edward took it very slowly. He seemed too focused to speak, instead merely grunting his approval as he made his slow way up my anus. I could feel his slippery juices oozing out and lubricating my ass tunnel, making life much easier for him; but I had to say that, while the sensation was strangely pleasant, it was nowhere near as enjoyable as I imagined him fucking me would be. But I knew this would soon be over, given his demonstrated lack of stamina thus far; so as he bottomed out in my ass I pulled out a little and then pushed back, and suddenly we were cooperating in a gently, comfortable rhythm that ended suddenly when he cried out, ground his cock into me, and shower my insides with sticky cum.
He rapidly deflated and slipped out. Moaning, I turned around and hopped up onto the edge of the table. "How now, Mum?" he asked. I looked calculatingly at his cock; it was slick with our combined fluids and about half hard. I really wanted it in my pussy then, but decided I'd better not until he was clean. So I pushed the dishes aside and sad back on the table, propping myself up on my hands and opening my legs wide. As he stared avidly at my splayed womanhood, I could feel my pussy-drool slithering down my vulva to mingle with the cum dribbling out of my well-used asshole.
Tit-play could wait a bit; for now I need to come. "Care to taste your Mommy, little boy?"
He didn't bother to answer; he just ducked his head and started licking. He didn't have much finesse, but over the next ten minutes I instructed him, and he learned well, focusing most of his attention on my rigid clit. I finally shuddered to a climax, calling his name and squeezing his shaggy head between my thighs.
Immediately thereafter we retired to the shower, where I finally got him out of that silly getup and, after a good scrubbing, showed him exactly what a lucky boy he was as I sucked him back to full hardness. He had a nice cock, I decided; wonderfully thick, if not quite as long as his Dad's. Oh well, it only had to be long enough to reach my pussy, and after the pounding he'd given my ass, I knew he could do that very well!
Indeed he could, as he subsequently proved when he very obediently fucked the shit out of me from behind after I braced myself against the wall, bringing me to a shattering orgasm of the kind I hadn't had in years. There have been hundreds, thousands, since. To use Eddy's terminology we're still "mad about each other" years later—and his odd little ways have made for some very kinky times.
Who needs normal, anyway?