Incest The Mom Memories" by 'alwayswantedto' collection

[sarit11]

I had thought Don might be feeling well enough to join us, but apparently not, so you and I ate dinner alone. I could see you knew I wasn’t wearing a bra which bothered me because you might think it was because I let you unzip my dress. I wanted to straighten you out but couldn’t without acknowledging that I knew you had unzipped my dress.


I also didn’t want to reveal your father’s request because it was private but would have needed to mention it for an adequate explanation. Moreover, I was afraid I might let it slip that he couldn’t achieve an erection and I didn’t want him to seem less in your eyes. Men can be funny about such things.

I was also confused about Don. If he thought it would help to watch me parade around in sexy clothes why didn’t he ask me to walk around the bedroom in front of him instead of sending me away?

So we ate and did the dishes and relaxed in the living room, watching TV. Later, we made tea and had a snack. I was aware of your eyes upon me the whole time. Although conflicted, I did feel attractive and enjoyed the attention. I even looked at my legs myself a few times. They looked damned good. I felt sexy.

You tossed a crossword magazine at me and I reluctantly started one, relieved when you didn’t move closer to me. Another hour slipped by. It was time to check on your father. He was awake.

“Lie beside me for a few minutes,” Don asked.

As soon as I complied he began touching me, gently, but in a definite sexual manner. I guess thinking about me walking around the house in sexy panties excited him. I glanced at his groin, expecting to see an erection this time but there was still nothing. Saddened, I tolerated his caress and even let his hand slide up my skirt to cup my sex. His touch was more patient, more considerate than when he was hard and eager to get into me. I spread my legs to facilitate his gentle massage and waited for the inevitable penetration, kissed his cheek, and nuzzled his neck. He massaged the skimpy panties until they were damp.

“Okay, I’m tired now.”

“What?”

“I want to go to sleep. Do you mind?”

“Uh, no. I guess not.”

“Thanks, babe.”

[sarit11]

Downstairs, you were already leaning back on the couch, dressed in your pajamas. I sat at the far end and watched the TV without really seeing. After a few minutes, I turned and you stretched out your hand. I laid my head on your chest and settled my torso between your legs. You started rubbing my back through the white blouse. After a while, I noticed you were hard again. Very hard, unlike your father. I shifted my head and sighed, but didn’t ‘wake’ up. I liked the feel of your hardness against me and wanted to enjoy it for a while. You were so big under your pajamas and I knew it was because of me so I wanted to dream a bit. What harm could it do?


Your hands stroked my hair and rubbed down my back. They slid onto my skirt and I held my breath. Your hands cupped my buttocks, measuring their shape and firmness, as well as possible through the thickly pleated material.

I shivered and your hands returned to my back, scbanging the white blouse out of the waistband of the skirt. I lost track of time as your hands caressed my back and hair, and returned to my skirt, again and again. I lost myself in the pleasure of it.

How long was it, I wondered, before the blouse had been worked up to my shoulder blades, baring my waist and the sides of my breasts? Your hands were on my bare skin again but my back still felt covered. It wasn’t until your hands moved down to my skirt that I realized it wasn’t covering my buttocks anymore but had been flipped up to warm my back. My ass was exposed except for the skimpy panties and your hands were rubbing my bare flesh!

I was shocked by your brazenness. I should have done something but I didn’t want a confrontation. It was nothing, I thought. You were just copping a feel. You had been stuck in this house with me and your father for months with no outlet for your own stress. What did it matter if you rubbed my ass and pressed your cock against my tummy? Or that I liked it but that thought was fleeting and quickly banished.

Your cock felt enormous. My mind turned to it and that’s when you slid your right hand off the crest of my left buttock, grasped the narrow back of my panties, and pulled, dragging them deep into and through my crack until the larger part below pulled up tightly against my pussy. You repeated this several times until I was reminded of the way you pressed the flesh on the inside of my thigh, tugging my pussy lips apart. How similar your method, and how effective.

I told myself to 'wake’ up but put it off several times. No, that’s a lie. I dismissed the idea a dozen times. The pressure made my pussy feel like it was slowly cooking, each tug pulling it up against the warmth of your balls. I told myself again to 'wake’ up but wished instead you would grab my tit. Didn’t you know it was free and open for the taking?

[sarit11]

I moaned softly into your shoulder, unintentionally. The skirt was flipped down and your hands scbangd hard from my shoulders to my hips, pushing the blouse down. A moment later I lifted my shoulders and looked sleepily into your eyes.

“I guess I fell asleep.”

“Yeah.”

“I should go to bed.”

“Okay.”

I was saddened by the disappointment in your voice. Again, I asked myself, what did it matter if you copped a little feel? As I walked away from you, blouse untucked, I resolved to be more sensitive to your needs. You were going through a tough time too. I let my hips sway.

[sarit11]

The next day Don asked me to lie beside him, naked this time.


“Can I put the oil on your legs?”

I nodded, knowing he wasn’t really asking.

He spread the oil on my legs, trailing his fingers so lightly over my skin I became aroused. His hand strayed onto my hips and then to my breasts, spreading the oil there too. My nipples were so hard I ridiculously imagined I could accidentally poke his eyes out. I giggled.

“Feel good?” Don asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“You look good in oil,” he laughed. “Any man would love to touch your skin.”

“I don’t want any man to touch me,” I replied.

His hand cupped my sex, and squeezed.

“You deserve to be touched.”

“But not by anyone else,” I murmured

“No strangers,” Don agreed. “Did you have wine for dinner?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yes.”

“I thought so.”

“Did you?” I queried, playfully.

He changed the subject again. “I love your tits.”

Don never talked like this.

“Oh yeah. My old woman’s tits?”

He ignored the comment. “Don’t wear anything to hide them.”

“Okay baby.”

Don pushed me away.

“I’m tired.”

I put on a loose t-shirt and short skirt and presented myself for his approval. He nodded and waved his hand. I left, turning around at the door to blow him a kiss, and turned out the light. He had already turned onto his side.

I joined you downstairs and was pleased to see you had already changed into your pajamas. There was pot of tea and a cup on the table but I ignored it.

“Whew,” I sighed. “I’m bushed.”

You held out your arms and I nestled between them, fitting my belly to yours and my head on your shoulder, arranging myself higher than before so my skirt would be easier for you to reach. Soon, I began breathing regularly so you would think I had drifted off. It wasn’t long before I felt your hands on my skirt. You pulled it up and cupped my buttocks, staying still for several minutes before grasping the back of my panties. The tugging began, forcing the strip of panties deep between my cheeks and pressing the gusset onto my pussy.

[sarit11]

Your cock was already hard and I felt its tip press against my bare belly when it stiffened enough to poke out the waistband of your pajamas. My t-shirt had been pulled up to expose my tummy without me even noticing. Brazenly, you pulled it higher to bare my breasts. They flopped out but you didn’t grab them. Instead your hands returned to my ass.


“Jesus,” you murmured.

You rubbed my cheeks and I realized the same time as you that Don had spread oil all over my ass.

“Jesus,” you muttered again, then pulled the panties out of my crack.

Your fingers reached farther, between my cheeks, and spread them apart, spreading my pussy lips too. Your fingers stretched lower, between my legs, and pressed on my lower lips, found my slit and rubbed your fingertip through it. Oh, God. I shuddered.

My hand rose automatically and before I knew it, had slipped between us to mold your cock. The tip of your finger flicked, back and forth, digging through my slit and I heard as well as felt how wet it was. I was in heaven. My mind screamed that this was too much, way beyond copping a feel, but I didn’t care. The touch of your flicking fingertip was exquisite. I moaned into your chest but this time you didn’t read it as a sign that I was 'waking’ up. Instead, you pressed your cock harder into my belly and pushed your finger in deeper.

I pressed down upon your rising hardness but then quickly twisted my pelvis upward, impaling myself even deeper upon you probing finger, and moaned again. Another press of your cock and then up to greet the entrance of your extended digit through my inner hole. I groaned and my fingers curled around your shaft.

Your finger pressed deeper until your knuckles pushed against my ass, blocking further penetration. I tightened my muscles upon it and dragged, squeezing at the same time so it wouldn’t fall out.

My fingers lifted your cock off your belly and stroked it. Up and down, just enough to pull the skin over the head, back and forth, squeezing, like my cunt was doing on your finger. It was your turn to groan.

I felt fluid on my hand, exuding from your tip. Ahhh, sweet youth. So soon, so soon. I dipped my head, an involuntary reaction, and stopped, but then pressed lower, just far enough for my mouth to close over the tip. I stopped then, aware of what I was doing, the head of your cock lodged in my mouth, unable to continue but incapable of pulling away.

Your hand found my hair and closed, grasping it tightly, while the other dug two fingers into my cunt, lifting forcefully enough to almost slide my mouth off your cock but I resisted that too. You didn’t press my head down but held it while your hips flexed, pushing your cock deeper into my mouth, drew back, and fucked into it again.

“Jesus.”

It went on and on, your cock pushing ever so little into my mouth and then withdrawing, only to return again and again, your fingers keeping time sliding in and out of my pussy. Though not really sucking your cock I was letting you fuck my mouth. I couldn’t stop now, it would be too unfair. I had to finish you and never allow it to happen again. We wouldn’t speak of it. We would pretend it never happened.

I moved my head, pushing down to take more of you into my mouth, trying to finish you sooner. You groaned and pushed more of your cock inside me. I churned my ass against your hand, thinking it would excite you and make you come sooner. It worked. You moved faster and faster and before I knew it my throat was flooded with your cum.

You were so considerate. After pulling your cock gently out of my mouth and stuffing it back into your pajamas, you pushed my skirt down to cover my ass and dragged my t-shirt down too.

Then you whispered, “Mom, Mom. Wake up.”

I groggily lifted my head, playing along with the ridiculous pretense you had enabled.

“Huh?”

“You fell asleep. Maybe you should go to bed.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks honey.”

I went upstairs, unsteady on my feet, wondering how things had progressed, or deteriorated, so rapidly. I stopped at the top of the stairs to steady myself, holding on to the banister, and suddenly stared at the small Danish table in the alcove and its delicate matching antique chair. It was set about a foot away from the wall where it was normally placed. That was odd. I put it back against the wall, then carried on to my bed and slipped in next to Don. I was tired, so very, very tired.

[sarit11]

I watched you closely the next day for signs you didn’t believe my sleeping act but detected none. As always, especially since Don became sick, you didn’t encroach upon my personal space unless I first approached you for a hug or kiss, and then you responded platonically. I was relieved but also disappointed.


Don had a good day and didn’t complain about being forced out of bed for a walk around the bedroom. The day passed normally, including the pitch after dinner for me to change in front of him with a visit to our bed to lie beside him. This time he wanted me naked.

I was uncomfortable because I had forgotten to close our door but Don wouldn’t let me get up to shut it. He turned on his side and ran the fingers of his right hand up and down my torso, arms, and legs for ages before teasing my nipples and then my pussy. By that time, I was ready for it, very ready. Don kissed and nuzzled my neck and whispered sexy things in my ear. I was extremely horny when he started to oil my legs. He started at my ankles and took a long time to get above my knees.

“Spread your legs,” he said, which I did without opening my eyes.

He stroked and caressed my legs as he rubbed the oil in. I raised my knees so he could do the underneath where I liked to be touched but he spent more time in the hollow between my pussy and upper thighs which was even better. When he was done, he spread oil on my stomach, circling my navel many times before proceeding to my breasts.

“Turn over,” he finally rasped.

I opened my eyes, surprised by the huskiness of his voice, but there was nothing in his groin to match its timbre. I twisted onto my tummy and opened my legs a bit to give him better access to my thighs. They had already been done but wouldn’t mind extra attention. Instead, Don’s oily hand landed directly on my right buttock and immediately began exploring its shape. I was surprised because he had never shown much interest in my ass.

Don’s hand rubbed and rubbed my buttocks up and down for quite a while before changing to a side to side motion that alternately pinched my cheeks together and pulled them apart. He worked from the top of my crack to the bottom where the motion transferred to my pussy, reminding me of your teasing presses on the inside of my thigh. I wondered if you were waiting for me downstairs and whether Don realized how ready he was making me for you.

I liked having my ass played with which must have been apparent when I lifted my hips to push it harder against Don’s hand. When I started audibly sighing he surprised me with a slap on my buns.

“There you go. I’m done.”

I felt him turn onto his back but stayed where I was, searching for his hand with mine.

“Away you go. I’m tired now.”

I got up on my elbows and looked at him in disbelief but his eyes were closed. I released a long exasperated, disappointed sigh but got up when it failed to produce a response. I put on a revealing nightie with and covered myself with a form-fitting satin robe but Don didn’t open his eyes to watch. I turned out the light and walked quietly to the door.

You looked up when I was half way down the stairs and smiled. I slowed my pace to descend with a more elegant gait and went directly to the couch. You moved to the middle to make room and I sat down, thanking you for the crossword magazine you handed to me and which I immediately opened.

[sarit11]

It was sham. Could I be more obvious? I was so horny I had difficulty keeping my breathing even. Somehow — gosh, I don’t how — my robe gaped open to reveal the depth of the neckline on the shimmery green nightie. The inside of my breasts were exposed and the gap in the nightie, which reached all the way down to a decorative knot at my waist, even showed the curve of my breasts as they swept away from my torso. I may as well have hung a sign asking you to stare at my tits!


However, you played the game well, pretending to watch me fill out the crossword, which I had difficulty doing until you suggested the answers. I dutifully wrote each one in but didn’t come up with a single one myself.

I dropped my hands, with the magazine, onto my lap. The robe parted and fell off my thighs. I realized it had fallen to the sides of my breasts too, leaving only the flimsy nightie to do a poor job of covering me, so I lifted the magazine and started penciling in a word. It was wrong but I wrote it in anyway. You suggested a word for a downward cross and laid your right hand on my bare thigh. I wrote it in.

We completed that puzzle and then another, and another. Your fingers applied pressure and released, again and again, pulling my pussy apart and then allowing it to close. To my horror, I thought I heard my wetness but didn’t try to stop your probing fingers. When the magazine began to shake in my trembling hands you asked me if I wanted to rest for a while.

“Yes, I need to close my eyes for a few minutes.”

You leaned back and I turned to follow you without waiting for your hands to pull me along. Your legs opened and I fit myself between them, snuggling up to your chest just as I fell out of the skimpy nightie. My nipples pressed onto the flannel of your pajamas and I sighed into your shoulder as my belly felt the press of your big hardon.

“I might fall asleep,” I whispered.

“That’s okay, Mom.”

You patted my back and started to platonically rub my shoulders. I sighed and snuggled closer, curling my arms up to put them around your neck. Barely three minutes passed before your hands dipped to feel the sides of my breasts. I offered no reaction and was pleased when they returned again and again.

Your hands began dipping lower and lower, past the small of my back and onto my ass, rubbing my buttocks and slowly working the robe and nightie up until my cheeks were bare. I smiled to myself and snuggled closer. You piled my clothes high on my shoulder, leaving me naked from there down to my toes. Long strokes ensued as far down as you could reach. God, it felt great!

Your fingers plied my crack, slippery from Don’s oily hands, and spread my cheeks apart, then dipped deep to slide the pad of your longest finger along its length, pressing slightly harder when passing over my forbidden hole. I lifted my hips, demonstrating an involuntary appreciation for your touch. You groaned and I felt your free hand working the waistband of your pajamas bottoms over your hips. I lifted my weight to make it easier, not caring that it would betray my wakeful state, and gasped when I felt its heat on my belly. I hadn’t realized the nightie had been pulled up to bare my front too.

We moved together after that, your hands on my ass urging me closer, and me pressing up against you. Though muted, our movements mimicked fucking and I worked the muscles in my abdomen, undulating to massage your cock. I knew from your breathing you would come soon and prepared to lower my head, quickly, to cover you with my mouth.

[sarit11]

Suddenly, I felt an urge to feel your shaft sliding through my lips. I pressed my hands against the inside of the couch’s arm and pushed myself lower, turning my head down and opening my mouth. One of your hands had left my ass and grabbed your cock, lifting and steering it through my eager lips. We both groaned as it pushed forcefully to my tonsils. I started to pull my head up but your other hand pressed down on my hair.


That was okay. I groaned again and you pulled back, then shoved back into my mouth. I kept still but your hand remained on top of my head, unnecessarily because I was keen to let you fuck my face. Don had made me so fucking horny and you were receiving the benefit. I slipped my hand between us and searched for your balls, gently squeezing them as soon as they were discovered. The hand on your cock left and reached for my ass but it was out of reach so it sought my tits and found them. You squeezed too hard but I didn’t care. I started sucking hard as soon as you pinched my nipple. Your hips flexed faster and faster and your hand pushed my head down more firmly. The squelching sound of your cock moving in and out of my drooling mouth was clearly audible, even over our rasping breath.

Then you groaned loudly and your hips bucked up hard, and held, your legs trembling, my head shaking, as you unloaded your sperm in my mouth. A small blast was followed by a larger one and then a huge one followed by another big one, then two smaller ones. Your weapon fell silent then, except for two tiny eruptions coincident with a couple of jerking reactions as my tongue and lips cleaned your tip and shaft. Your hand fell away to let my head move, clearly belying any notion that I was sleeping.

We were still for quite a while afterward. Almost. You didn’t make any attempt to rearrange my clothes nor did I try to cover my nakedness but your cock remained in my mouth, softening, until I occasionally tightened my lips to suck it. Your fingers played over my shoulders and upper back, periodically rising to massage my neck and play with my hair, especially when my lips closed tightly around your cock.

I knew there was no sense feigning sleep this time. You had fondled my ass and fucked my mouth, and I continued to suck you now. As your cock hardened in my mouth, beginning to regain its former glory, I realized I had to stop. I pulled my mouth off and stirred.

“Mom, you fell asleep,” you mumbled.

I rose up and my tits spilled completely out of the nightie.

“Really?” I asked.

You were too distracted to meet my eyes.

“Really?” I repeated, lowering my breasts toward your face.

Your eyes shifted upward but my tits mashed into your face and they glazed as you tried to focus on my nipples. I maneuvered one of them into your mouth. My nipple felt so hard I thought it would burst. I was so horny.

“Really?”

You sucked it hard and I grabbed the back of your head, my fingers closing in your hair, and pulled upward.

“Really?”

[sarit11]

I steered your mouth from one nipple to the other, pressing my flesh onto your face, and didn’t mind when your hands cupped my ass again, or when your fingers dragged up and down between my cheeks. You spread them and rubbed their tips across my anus and down to dip into my pussy, eventually pushing your fingers into my cunt. I groaned and pushed my tits harder on your face. It was my turn.


“Finger me,” I groaned, not realizing I had said it out loud until you pushed several in deep.

“Finger me,” I demanded, knowing I was begging and didn’t care.

I had been so horny for so long the thickness of your fingers plying my inner walls drove me crazy. My hips twisted and bucked trying to get more, to get you in as deep as possible, to splay me wide. Oh, God, I wanted your whole hand inside me and squiggled around trying, and succeeding, to get most of your fingers inside. Your hand pushed upward hard enough to force my hips up and your mouth covered my pussy.

Oh, God! Oh, my fucking God!

You munched and licked and sucked and the whole time your fingers were working inside me. I heard my wetness slopping onto your hand but the squelching sound merely led me to thrust onto your mouth. A hand on my shoulder pulled me down and your mouth pulled away and turned up. You wanted to kiss me. Your upper lip glistened with my juice but I didn’t care. I wanted to taste you.

I moaned as I lowered myself to meet your lips and gasped but didn’t know until it was too late that your cock had replaced your mouth. I was filled with something thicker and more solid, probing deep, really deep, and I knew it couldn’t be fingers. At first I thought you had shoved your hand into me but then both my buttocks were grabbed and squeezed.

The truth sunk into my mind slowly. I tried to pull off. I didn’t really want to, that is, my body didn’t want to, but it was wrong to have your cock inside me. Somehow, sucking it was okay but fucking it wasn’t. I pulled my hips up high but yours followed. We paused like that, me hovering over you with an inch or so of you still inside. I could have gone higher, could have broken the connection, but I didn’t. I groaned, and slowly sunk onto your shaft, gobbling your cock with my hungry cunt until my lips caressed your root. I sat on you, impaled, grinding, and whispered in your ear.

“Fuck me.”

You didn’t move.

“Fuck me,” I repeated.

Still no response.

“Please,” I pleaded.

Your cock twitched, and then rose, pushing me up, abruptly dropped, sliding that gorgeous feeling out of me, them rammed back up, hard.

“Oh yeah, fuck me, Donny. Fuck me!”

You did. You banged up hard, furiously, then slowed, doing me softly, then hard and slow, soft and slow, soft and fast, everything, bless you, you did everything. You fucked me for a long time, way longer than I expected, and I was glad I had made you come. You were so thick and hard, long and hard, and so alive!

[sarit11]

I drenched you with my fluid, nearly broke you with my frantic twisting, wrenching your cock this way and that. I couldn’t get enough of it but inevitably it ended and I fell upon your chest, exhausted, gasping for breath. A long time later, when we were both breathing more normally, I pushed myself up and off you.


“I guess I fell asleep.”

We both laughed. I pulled my nightie down to cover my breasts, stood, and wrapped the robe around myself. When you sat up I said goodnight and turned away.

“Wait,” you cried, but I didn’t.

I couldn’t face you. I quickened my pace and hurried up the stairs when I heard you following but slowed when I neared the top and the antique Danish table and chair came into view. The chair was in place, nestling against the wall, but a short, squat glass sat on the doily near the vase. It hadn’t been there before. I knew it hadn’t. I would have seen it. Your hands grasped my hips.

“Mom. Wait,” you whispered.

Your hands slid over my hips, molding my ass. I moved forward, topping the stairs and stopped. You closed the gap and your hands cupped my buttocks.

“Let me kiss you goodnight.”

I turned and yielded, letting your hands to fold me into your arms, lifted my face to meet your lips, and welcomed your tongue inside my mouth for the first time. My hands stretched behind my back, fingers searching, until the glass was in my grasp. You circled my waist with one arm but I kept the glass out of the way. The other pushed into my hair and held my mouth to yours. You were seeking more than a simple kiss and I gave it to you until my lips felt bruised and chewed up.

“Goodnight,” I whispered, when your face lifted from mine.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered.

I backed away, my bare feet slowly leading me unerringly to my bedroom door. I smiled and blew you a kiss as I backed into my room, the glass hidden behind me. I pushed the door shut, closing it with a quiet click, then turned to look at the bed.

Don was quietly snoring, the picture of innocence, but I knew he had been there, sitting at the top of the stairs. I raised the glass and sniffed…scotch, his favorite drink. He had sat at the top of the stairs, watching his wife and son fuck, while savoring a single malt scotch.

Now the hour of teasing caresses took on a new meaning. He wasn’t torturing himself by forcing himself into a situation he couldn’t handle. He had deliberately prepared me to be easy prey for his son!

I stared at the bed, unsure of whether I wanted to get into bed with this man I thought I knew so well but obviously didn’t. What possessed him to do such a thing?

The answer came an hour later as I lay beside him, still awake. Hadn’t I teased my son right next to him night after night, believing he was unaware? I was such a fool. Had that led to the notion that his son could take over for him instead of a strange man? He had probably concocted his scheme at the depth of his illness and put it into motion despite getting better. Did the idea have such a strong appeal to him by then? How perverse.

[sarit11]

It angered me until I realized how unselfish it was to satisfy my needs and give such a generous gift to his son at the same time. Then I wondered if it was because he didn’t believe in his own recovery, that he might know something I didn’t, and I became afraid. No, he was definitely getting better.


Anyway, it didn’t matter. Don was a good man. I had blamed him, wrongly, of having an affair and felt ashamed. I loved him. I snuggled close to him. If he wanted me to be with our son then that’s the way it would be. After all, it was my fault. I had started it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning I awoke with Don’s fingers trailing over my body. My breasts were taut, nipples hard, and my legs spread. I was horny and felt warm all over.

“Hey sleepyhead. It’s about time.”

I stretched.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know but you have a hungry son downstairs waiting for his breakfast.”

“He can make breakfast himself.”

“He can, but it’s better if his mother does it for him.”

Don kissed my left nipple and strummed his fingers over my mound.

“He can wait.”

“I told him you’d make pancakes.”

Don withdrew his hand.

“Okay. I’ll make pancakes.”

I put on a full length, white nightgown. Nothing sexy but with nothing on underneath my body’s aroused state couldn’t be hidden. I blew Don a kiss and went downstairs to look after you.

Your eyes lit up when you saw me and that heightened the state of my arousal. You didn’t try to hide your obvious pleasure.

“Pancakes alright with you?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Come with me. I want to talk to you first about last night.”

My voice was grim.

[sarit11]

I led you into the living room and pushed you into Don’s chair so your head would be out of sight from the top of the stairs. I didn’t know for sure if Don was there but I felt his presence. I refused to look. I pulled the nightie up to my knees and knelt before you, pleased that the move was unexpected. You began breathing more rapidly when I grabbed the waistband of your pajamas and tugged them down until your cock sprang free. I smiled, and leaned forward, tongue pushing through my lips to taste the underside just below your helmet. You groaned and I laughed.


“Were you waiting long for breakfast?” I asked between licks.

“Forever.”

“Excuse me but I’m going to have breakfast first.”

It was a slutty thing to say but I did it for Don’s benefit. For the next half hour I sucked your cock, at times thinking I was teasing you for Don’s sake and at other’s for yours, but in reality I did it mostly for myself. What a turn on, sucking you when I knew Don was watching and didn’t know I knew he was, and definitely knowing you were in the dark. Don seemed to want me to fuck you, and I wanted to fuck you, and you wanted to fuck me, and only I knew it all.

I dragged my tongue up and down your shaft, covered your tip with my mouth and tickled your balls, then wiggled my head to shimmy my mouth down to your root. I spit on it and sucked it wetly, let you lift your hips to shove it deeper, but pushed your hands away when you tried to hold my head. I rubbed your wet cock all over my face, painting it with my own saliva, and then swallowed it again, and again, and again.

I hade never sucked a cock like this. Don knew that and I wondered if that knowledge made me try so hard to such a good job for his son. Was it payback, or did I think he’d like it better if I made him a little jealous? I didn’t know. I was through analyzing myself. I concentrated on your cock and pleasing you, and your father, and of course myself.

I took it all, without spilling a drop and when you were done, while you were still hard, I straddled your thighs and slid down your shaft, taking it deep into my cunt. It was my turn and I made sure both of you knew how much I needed it.

[sarit11]

That night, after dinner, Don spent a long time oiling my whole body. He spent most of the time around my ass. Why did he suddenly like my ass so much? Was it because you seemed to like it so much? Probably.


Anyway, I didn’t complain when his fingers began spending a lot of time in my crack after working around my pussy for a long time. He kept pushing his longest finger in, rubbing it flat across my anus, again and again, until finally he poked it in, just a bit. I moaned into the pillow and lifted my buttocks.

“Naughty, naughty, Alice.”

I moaned something unintelligible and Don pushed his fingertip back. Minutes later, he was pushing it in when every circling massage of my cheeks. Around from my hips to the bottom, a lift and spread, then the finger dragging through and the push into my ass, down to the second knuckle now. A bit of a wiggle and then up to massage my buttocks.

My hips were gyrating, barely able to wait for the finger to return. It felt good. I was surprised. Thought Don had never been interested in my ass many men had looked and it made me wonder why. Did they really want to put it there?

Once, after consuming too much wine and during one of the few times Don did me from behind, I had wiggled my ass to dislodge him. His cock landed high and I moaned to indicate I was willing to try it there but he pulled it down and reinserted it in my pussy. That was the closest I ever came to ass sex. Yet now Don was fingering my ass and I knew he would soon send me away. He wanted me to let our son fuck me in the ass. He pushed his finger in again and I lifted my hips until it shoved all the way in. Don held it in, twisting it back and forth, then slowly pulled it out. He didn’t swirl around my buttocks but plunged his finger back in, all the way, again and again. He leaned close and whispered in my ear.

“You have a gorgeous ass, baby.”

“Do I?” I moaned.

“Yeah, baby.”

I couldn’t believe how easily his finger was moving in and out of me. Then suddenly, it was tight again. Too tight.

“Owww.”

“Shhhhh, baby. It’ll be alright.”

He was right. A few minutes later I was rocking my hips to pull both fingers into my ass. I loved it. Then Don stopped.

“I’m tired now, baby.”

“Okay, baby. Do you mind if I go downstairs?”

“No. Do your puzzles with Donny. I’m going to rest.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight.”

[sarit11]

I went downstairs in the same long, white nightgown and did a couple of crosswords with your help. I didn’t let the nightgown slide up my legs or give any other indication I was ready to play. I was simply killing time so you would think your father was sleeping. After forty minutes or so I got up and dragged the coffee table away from the couch and put it in front of the love seat. You didn’t say anything but looked at me funny when I knelt on the floor and leaned over the couch to rest beside you, not over you. You tried to shift me over onto your lap, obviously wanting more of what I had given earlier, but I resisted. You patted the seat by the end of the couch.


“Do you want to rest for a while, Mom?”

“No. I’m fine like this.”

You watched me for a while. Neither of us moved until I pulled the nightgown up from under my knees, then returned to my pleasant 'dozing’. You got up and went into the kitchen. I heard you get a glass and fill it with water, then return to drink it. You were watching me. I knew that my body was discernible beneath the thin cotton, and that you would be focusing on my ass.

The glass was placed on the coffee table. You knelt behind me. Finally, you were getting the idea. Your hands landed lightly on my hips, paused, and then slid up along my waist to the side of my breasts. They pushed under until my nipples were pressed into your palms. You squeezed my tits, hard but not harshly, enough to evoke a response if I didn’t want you to touch me.

Your hands slid away and the nightgown began rising up my thighs, slowly, bared my ass and was pushed up onto my back. Hands on my thighs, sliding up to my ass, molding it, plying my chees, squeezing them, spreading them, and leaving them. A hand cupping my pussy, rubbing, feeling my wetness, probing, sliding in, joined by another finger, and them moving in and out. Squelching. Was I that wet?

A hand exploring my ass while you fingered me. I twisted my head, toward the stairs. It was dark up there. Was Don there? I knew he was. I pushed my hands back to my ass and spread my cheeks.

“Beautiful,” you mumbled.

I smiled and lifted my hips to show my eagerness. Your cock nudged between my thighs, scbanging up to my pussy, split my lips and pressed, slipping through the door with a sudden plunge, and then stopped when the head was lodged inside. Slowly, you pushed until your cock was completely inside me. You allowed me to accommodate your girth, then started fucking me, gently, nicely.

Gradually, you moved faster and faster. You tried hard to be the cocksman but it excited me more when I felt you lose control and started banging me harder and harder. Oh yes, I knew you needed me then. I made sounds to encourage you, to let you know how much I loved having you in me. I moaned in ecstasy when you grabbed my hair and lifted my head. I wanted you to think you could do anything with me, despite the discomfort. I wanted you to know I was yours to do with as you pleased. I was tired of plain sex. I wanted excitement, to be fucked good and hard. I wanted to be surprised.

You fucked me good. You were almost too rough but not quite. I think you just got carried away. Anyway, I encouraged it and I loved it, especially when you threw your head back when you came.

[sarit11]

Afterward, you stroked slowly in and out of me as if your cock was loathe to leave the heat of my velvety glove. Eventually you fell out but I reached behind to catch your cock and rubbed it up and down my crack, pulling the tip onto my little hole. It took quite a while for you to catch on, before you realized I was trying to insert your cock in my ass. You grabbed you meat, displacing my hand, and I pulled my cheeks apart so there would be no mistake.


You started trying to push it in but it was too soft. That didn’t last long. Soon I was struggling to accommodate its girth, trying to relax to let it in. You were hesitant.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered.

“I want you to.”

“Mom, I can’t.”

Just then the head popped in and you groaned.

“You can.”

You moaned.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

You pulled away.

“Don’t,” I cried.

You hesitated.

“Do it.”

You pushed back in. My face screwed up and my eyes squinted but I turned into the cushion to hide it.

“Don’t stop.”

I put my hand in my mouth and bit my knuckles. You felt so huge but I knew any man would feel big back there. I had seen the amateur movies you had saved on your computer so I knew it could be done but there was an accommodation period. I had also heard the woman cry out Go slow and Don’t stop.

You pushed in, way in, then pulled out, slowly, following my orders not to stop or your own sensibilities from watching your 'movies’. In either case, you went in and out, slowly, for some time. I knew you were trying your hardest to be gentle but it was still hard to take. It felt so different! I wondered if I could I really do this for Don. I no longer wanted to do it for myself. Just a bit longer, for Don’s sake, and then I would stop.

It started to get easier. It was okay, even felt not too bad. You were working more smoothly now, moving faster but still gently. Yeah, it was going to be okay. Your hand was stroking my back, along my spine, and the other reached around to tickle my fur. Yeah, it wasn’t so bad. Different, but not bad.

I liked the fullness of it. The pressure was beginning make me feel warm down there and it was spreading through my pelvis, reaching up to my tummy and beyond. Oh yeah, your finger was strumming my clit nicely now and your cock, God, it was beginning to feel real good moving in my ass. My ass! God, I was being fucked in the ass! I wasn’t a boring housewife and mother anymore. I was kind of a…debutante.

[sarit11]

I started moaning and you began moving faster. I wasn’t making sounds for Don’s benefit or yours. I was totally into it and couldn’t help making noise. I liked it. I found it hard to believe but the whole thing was great. Not just your cock moving inside me but the thought of doing it with you with your father watching, and you not knowing about it.


I pushed back hard and pulled forward, popping off your cock with a gross sound. I yanked the seat off the couch and, twisting, threw if on the floor. I grabbed a pillow and tossed it on top and then fell on top of the pile centered on my tummy with my ass pushed up. It took only seconds before you had straddled my thighs and pushed your cock back into my dark place.

You rode me like that, sometimes sitting up high like a cowboy on a bronco and sometimes hunched over like a jockey racing for the finish line. I bet you never thought you father could see the ecstasy I knew would be flickering across your face. I lifted my head and you grabbed my hair, probably thinking you were helping me arch my back as I neared orgasm but in reality I was trying to look up the stairs. I thought I saw a glint of light reflecting off a scotch glass but it was probably my imagination. Regardless, I was certain he was there, watching.

I groaned and moaned and mewled and you fucked me just as loudly. You must have thought your father was dead asleep under the influence of pain killers and sleeping pills. When I dropped my head your hands hooked around my shoulders to help power your thrusts into my ass which was taking a severe pounding. I didn’t care. It felt good, damn good!

You emptied yourself into my ass, which I discovered later wasn’t a good thing. You collapsed on my back, exhausted and spent, and stayed like that a long time. I didn’t try to dislodge you because I wanted to give Don time to retreat. I guess you thought I was waiting to start again because eventually you began to grow and move. I pushed you out then and turned over.

As if to prove you didn’t want me just for sex, probably because we had gone at it so hard, you kissed me then. Long and deep. It was beautiful and I was touched because the tenderness couldn’t be faked. I hadn’t kissed that long and deep since our honeymoon and I felt guilty thinking it was better. We kissed and touched and pressed for half an hour or so before I finally pulled away. I think you would have kissed me all night if I hadn’t.

[sarit11]

When I woke up the next morning Don was holding my hand and watching me. Though cold it was sunny outside and the bright light shone on his face.


“Donny’s downstairs making breakfast. Pancakes, I think.”

I smiled. “Are you going to join us?”

He lifted my hand and pressed it to his lips.

“No, I’ll stay upstairs.”

“You have to rejoin the world sometime.”

“I like the world in our house.”

“Downstairs is part of that world.”

“I prefer upstairs.”

I became serious.

“Are you sure?”

I felt we were speaking to each other between the lines and we both knew it.

“Yes, for now.”

“We miss you.”

“I’ll come down when I’m more comfortable.”

“Okay. Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Everything is perfect.” Don smiled. “Just perfect, like you.”

I smiled. “I love you.”

“I know,” Don replied, and squeezed my hand.

I rolled toward him, lifted up on one elbow, and kissed his forehead, then twisted off the bed and got up. I sauntered out of the bedroom, sashaying in my bare feet to the door, the knee-length nightgown swishing around my knees. It was an old, threadbare cotton nightgown and it clung to my ass, delineating my buttocks perfectly. I thought Don would enjoy the sight of it and thinking about me wearing it downstairs to breakfast with you.

I insisted you take a tray up to your father before we ate. While you were gone I put the rest in the oven to keep warm and waited for you, syrup in hand. I pulled your pajamas down as soon as you returned and pushed you onto a kitchen chair. My calorie intake for the week was blown away in the next twenty minutes and more than half a bottle of syrup disappeared as my tongue licked it off with long, loving drags up and down your shaft. I let you mark me a little that time and though you apologized profusely I know you loved the look of it on my face.

[sarit11]

I went shopping after breakfast, overriding your objections with the excuse that I needed to get out of the house for a while. In reality, I wanted to buy a few nice things to wear, cheeky things, if that isn’t too much of a pun. I was pleased with my purchases and looking forward to wearing some of them that afternoon. Don was right. Our house was our own little world and we could do anything in there that made us happy. I was smiling, imagining myself walking around the house in front of you, and Don of course. My body was tingling and I was distracted, very distracted.


I didn’t see the red light. I didn’t even hear the crash.

I always expected to out live Don. After all, he was nine years older than me and male. I guess in some crazy way I thought we might even be alone for a few years. I didn’t imagine you being married with your own family. I suppose I didn’t want to think about it but that’s what happened. Years after I was gone, of course. Don lived for more another fifteen years, long enough to see two grandchildren. My heart aches for what I missed.

He came by, you know, but didn’t stay. You learn a lot here when you meet another soul. You absorb everything which is probably why the few of us that stay avoid each other so diligently. The newcomers don’t know at first and are quite shocked when they learn everything from those they meet and then realize they have completely revealed themselves too. Meetings are brief.

Anyway, your father made a point of seeking me out. He knew I would be waiting. Not for him, but for you. That brief whiff as he swirled around me before departing let me know he knew everything about us and didn’t begrudge it. He loved us both.

I was wasn’t surprised to confirm that he had worked me up to enable, or at least to encourage, sex between us. What I wasn’t prepared for was why. It wasn’t an unselfish act. Quite the contrary.

You see, your father loved us but there was someone else he loved more and he had been waiting to join her for decades. I knew in those brief seconds that he was leaving to find his mother but I also knew, which he didn’t because his senses hadn’t yet adapted, that she hadn’t waited for him. Like most, she didn’t linger in this inter-world wasteland. Those that did were few and far between and had strong links down there that couldn’t be broken.

Oh, the despair your father felt as he left, unconsciously suspecting the truth. I felt bad for him but was also shocked. I had no idea about his feelings for his mother. He never talked about her but in passing here I knew what had happened.

Your grandfather’s will left everything to your father. Your grandmother, who I remember as a cold, calculating woman, did what she believed she had to. For her own security she seduced her son. Of course, being a naïve teenager, he thought it was true love. There was no internet then, no commonly available tales of incestuous love.

They made love for months and hid it well waiting your grandfather to succumb. I could tell you some delicious stories and will relate them in detail when you arrive. Your grandfather convalesced and here was no need for the will to be executed. As soon as it became apparent he would live, your grandmother cut your father off. Evidently, he never recovered from the emotional shock.

So, dear son, your father had a close call with death and that sped his emotional and physical withdrawal from me, leaving me feeling confused and lonely. I flirted with you to prop up my own need for male attention but let it go too far. Don noticed and that prompted memories of his own mother. The fact that I was about the same age as your grandmother when he first made love to her was not lost on him.

I like to think I would have come to my senses if he hadn’t encouraged me to go further, first by making me aware that he knew and second by working me up before sending me downstairs to be with you. I truly believed it was what he wanted. Pleasing two men that I loved, and who I now knew loved me, was irresistible. I thought Don wanted to bestow a special gift upon you, and in a way he did, but it wasn’t selfless.

Your father was vicariously reliving his sex life with his mother through us. I sensed no remorse in him when he passed by. It made me sad because I knew he wouldn’t find her here and when he finally went up his disappointment would be magnified a thousand fold. Don was destined to remain a tormented soul.

But you, my son. You’ll soon be here. I can feel it. I’ve waited so long, so very, very long and now you’re almost here. I know it’s hard to leave your family behind but we can be together again and I can fulfill your needs like no one else can. We were meant for each other. I know you were with them longer than me but surely our love was stronger. We’ll rise together.

[sarit11]

3. Brushing Mom’s Hair

Ch. 1 - Something comes up while doing Mom’s hair.

by alwayswantedto
 
All characters are 18 years or older.
 
—————————————
 
“Cliff, you said you would,” Mom complained. “It has to be brushed out tonight or it won’t be right for tomorrow.” Mom shook her heavy mane of hair, the red highlights glinting against the background of her rich brown locks.
 
“I know, Emily,” Dad acknowledged, “but I have to get this done for tomorrow morning.” Dad waved the papers in his hand at Mom, finishing with a sweeping gesture toward the stack occupying the coffee table in front of him. “Bill had to go to LA and this got dumped on me. I can’t help it.”
 
“That’s just great. You know what my hair is like. I’ll look like a flathead, and it’s the biggest fundraiser of the year. Not that you care.”
 
Mom turned on her heel and walked quickly away. Though she didn’t stomp, it was clear from her deliberate tread that she wasn’t happy. Exasperated and already stressed, Dad muttered something under his breath and settled back into his papers. I left for the kitchen, ostensibly to make myself some hot chocolate but just as much to escape. I made a couple of extra mugs, one for each of my parents and carried a tray into the living room, offering one to my Dad.
 
“Oh, thanks Mike. Did you make one for your Mom?”
 
I nodded at the two mugs left on the tray.
 
“Good boy. Look, can you do me a favor and brush her hair for her. You know how she is about her hair.”

[sarit11]

“Sure Dad.”
 
“Great. Thanks son.”
 
I walked carefully across the room and up the stairs, trying not to spill the hot chocolate. I knew about Mom and her hair, that’s for sure. Because of the red highlights, Mom’s long, thick and full-bodied head of hair was especially beautiful in the sunlight but if it wasn’t brushed it lost its shine and hung flat. This had a dramatic effect on the way Mom felt about herself, especially because her hair compensated for a lack of prominent assets in the chest area. She did have very nice legs, at least my dad was always saying so, but she thought they were too thin and was convinced his compliments simply confirmed that he thought her breasts were too small. So Dad had learned not to say anything. Thankfully, I wasn’t expected to say.
 
Mom’s door was open and she was sitting in front of the mirrored dresser brushing her hair. As I approached, I stepped around her discarded robe which looked like it had been tossed toward the bed but fell short and sprawled on the floor. Mom was dressed in a pale blue nightdress I had seen before, though I could only see the bit covering her hips and the lower six inches of her back; the rest was covered by her hair.
 
Mom’s eyes looked up when I entered and her expression softened.
 
“Oh Michael, you didn’t need to do that.” Mom always called me Michael and Dad always called me Mike.
 
“No problem, not for my favorite lady,” I sucked up, hoping to drain Mom’s anger though I knew she would already be feeling sorry about getting mad at Dad.
 
“That’s so sweet,” Mom said as I put her mug down on the dresser in front of her. “Will you stay for a few minutes with me?”
 
“Sure.” I took my mug over to the bed and sat down, tossing the tray behind me. I sipped hot chocolate and watched Mom brush her hair after taking a small drink from her mug.
 
“Is Dad mad at me?” she asked, pulling the brush slowly through her hair.
 
“You know he’s not,” I answered, causing a slight smile that conveyed both relief and acknowledgement that she knew this to be true.
 
With each stroke of the brush, her breasts stretched up to strain against the front of her nightdress, starkly outlining their form for a brief moment before her descending arm relaxed the material sufficiently to camouflage her feminine physique. As I drank my hot chocolate, my eyes were drawn again and again to this exposition but I thought nothing more of it than to note that there was more there to meet the eye than Mom thought. It was strange to notice this feature of my mother with such platonic regard, for I wasn’t feeling anything sexual about it. I just noted, with some surprise, that from this vantage point, Mom’s breasts were more substantial than I had thought.
 
Mom took her second drink and looked over to smile at me but she didn’t say anything. Feeling suddenly self conscious, I drained my mug in one gulp and stood to leave. As I walked behind Mom, she thanked me again for being so thoughtful. Something made me stop. I leaned past Mom, set my empty mug beside hers, and stopped her hand in mid-stroke, relieving her of the brush.
 
“I’ll do it for you Mom,” I quietly offered my services.
 
“You don’t have to do that, Michael.”
 
“I want to. Let me do it for you Mom.”