Incest Stories by Alwayswantedto

[nilr1]

"I think it would be a good idea," I said. "We want to perform our best, don't we?"

 
"Of course we do," Mom breathed.
 
I snuggled up to Mom and noticed that her dress, which had been smoothed under her bottom and legs, was bunched up behind her. She was no longer sitting on it. As Mom played, I gathered the dress in my hands carefully so she wouldn't feel me doing it. After a quick glance toward the living room, I cautiously raised the dress. I could see the waistband of Mom's panties, just barely, running across the pillow. They must have been small ones because that's as far up as they came. Mom's crack was barely visible, squished between the pulpy flesh of her upper cheeks.
 
I leaned forward to lay my head on Mom's back again. Could I get my hands under her dress? Of course. Could I get away with it? Of course. Why else would she have pulled it out from underneath herself?
 
I was hard again. Mom must be able to feel me. She must have felt me before, bulging against her ass, and definitely would have felt me humping against her, but this time it was unmistakably a hard cock poking into her. I slipped my hands under the material of Mom's dress but kept them on the bench, behind her. I checked the living room to make sure I could still see Dad's feet resting on the footrest of his Lazy Boy.
 
Omigod. I could see Dad's face, reflected in the glass doors of the bookcase against the far wall of the living room. Jeez! I froze, staring at Dad's reflection. Can he see me? No. Dad wasn't looking at the bookcase but if he did, he probably could see me. I couldn't see that well, but he appeared to be reading.
 
God, I'm lucky he didn't catch me feeling up Mom. Dad could have turned his head anytime and looked, and when he was dozing off with his head turned to the side, all he had to do was open his eyes and focus on the reflection in the glass. Fuck! How could I keep ravishing Mom now?
 
I was pondering this very question when my hands answered for me. They twisted, palms facing Mom, and pressed against her bare ass above the waistband of her panties.
 
Jesus, Jon. Don't, I cried to myself.
 
But it was no use. My hands pushed outward, sliding forward onto the outside of Mom's thighs. Her bare skin! Fuck, this was awesome. I pulled my hands back and pushed them forward again, then started sliding them back and forth. I stared at the reflection of my father, ready to jerk my hands away at the slightest sign of movement.
 
No, don't. Just keep them still unless he gets up. That made more sense. He probably couldn't see well enough in the reflection to see what I was doing. This was much safer, with my hands under Mom's dress. Surely he would have seen me had he looked up while I was groping Mom's tits half an hour ago. He would have seen my hands which had no business being on the front of Mom's dress, but this, he couldn't see this, I was sure of it. Not from there in a reflection.
 
Did Mom know about the bookcase? Is that why she lifted her dress? Did she get off on danger? Was it an invitation to continue? There was only one way to find out.
 
In the next foray forward over Mom's legs, I drew up short and then slipped my hands up onto her hips, paused, then slid them around onto her bare tummy, my fingertips dipping in to her large, sunken navel. Other than a minor flinch from exploring fingers, there was no response. Mom kept playing without the slightest change in her playing. I circled one fingertip around and around into Mom's navel, then moved my hands up into position below Mom's breasts.
 
I made the move, cupping the roundness of her tits, my fingers folding lovingly around their perfect curvature. My cock lurched in my pajamas. Quickly, I moved my fingers up to explore Mom's wonderful nipples, unable to resist flicking them up and down with my thumbs before adding a finger to pinch, roll and tug them. There was the briefest flicker in Mom's playing but she quickly recovered. Oh my fucking god. Her bare tits! I twisted my head and tried to chew Mom's shoulder blade through her dress. They felt better than I ever imagined. They were perfect. Perfect! Perfect!!
 
I moaned into Mom's back and began hunching against her again. The picture in my mind of Mom's chest was now in HDTV, not a blemish in sight. I groped them mercilessly, unable to control myself, pushing myself painfully into her butt. I had to do something before I broke my cock.
 
I was loathe to do it but do it I did. I let go of Mom's right tit and pulled my hand away, down and out of her dress. I grabbed my swollen prick, which had poked through the hole in the front of my pajamas, and used it to find Mom's ass crack. I pushed in and down until I felt the waistband of Mom's panties and them pushed my cock between it and Mom's ass, humping a couple of times to make sure it didn't come out. Quickly, I slipped my hand up to retrieve Mom's tit and nipple and started humping.
 
Through my legs I felt Mom's feet lift from the pedal and plant themselves higher against the front paneling of the piano. She was bracing herself to keep me from pushing her off the seat as I vigorously shoved my cock back and forth under her ass. I couldn't care less what anyone thought now. I needed to come on Mom's ass and nothing could stop me. Mom had stopped playing. I jerked my head to the bookcase reflection to see if Dad had noticed. He was still reading! Mom's hands were now braced against the keyboard as my humping increased in force.
 
I had to hurry. Dad probably thought we were between pieces, not paying enough attention to realize Mom had quit in the middle. I started hunching my hips furiously, desperate to finish, needing to cum.
 
Splash! Spurt, spurt, ohhhhh goodddd, this is ... great, ahhhh, yeah, unggnhhh, unnghhhh, yeah, yeaaahhhh.
 
I relaxed on Mom's back but kept my eyes on Dad's reflection. He was still reading. I watched him as my breathing returned to normal. Mom's feet dropped back to the floor and her hands relaxed on the keyboard but she didn't resume playing. I let go of her tits and pulled my hands from underneath her dress and pulled my hips back, my slippery cock sliding out of her panties. I tucked my dick back inside my pajamas and, as soon as I did, Mom lifted herself and swept her dress underneath before sitting back down. She had no sooner finished than Dad's head poked around the corner.
 
"Would you guys like some tea and cookies?"
 
"Uhhh, yeah. Thanks Dad."
 
He was up and turning the corner, heading for the kitchen. I stood up and looked down at myself to make sure I was presentable. I was. Mom stood and I followed her, then veered toward the stairs.
 
"No, no. Come here. I want to show you something."
 
Dad waved Mom into the kitchen. Mom complied and I started up the stairs.
 
"No. You too, Jon."
 
I checked myself to make sure I was presentable, then followed Mom into the kitchen.
 
"Try some of these," Dad said, beaming. He held out a bag from our local bakery, full of treats. "I could hardly wait until you finished to give you these," he said. "You've been practicing so hard."
 
You can say that again, I thought.
 
Mom took a pastry and took a small bite, quickly raising her other hand to catch the crumbs that spilled from her mouth.
 
"Thanks Drew. You shouldn't have," Mom mumbled.
 
"You too, Jon," Dad insisted.
 
I chose a butterhorn, my favorite, and took a large bite.
 
I couldn't help thinking how ludicrous this was, eating special pastry treats my Dad bought while he made us some tea, my cock still firm enough to slap against my leg, slick from my own cum, most of which was in Mom's panties, drying on her ass as she munched on the eclair her husband had just given her. God. I wished I could guarantee my father wouldn't turn around. I dearly wanted to lift Mom's dress and shove my cock back inside her panties.
 
Oh, no. That thought was a killer. My cock was stiffening, rising off my leg and bending up, against my pajamas, pushing them out. Quickly, I shuffled over to the kitchen table and sat down, pulling my chair in to hide myself. Mom noticed and did the same. I loved the surprised look on her face as my cum must have made its presence better known as her cheeks pressed down on the chair.
 
We sat there, the three of us, drinking tea and eating all the pastries. I managed to get my cock down, helped along by imagining it lying across an anvil in front of my father who was wielding a huge hammer. I don't know what my mother was thinking. For all appearances, she could have been at a church social.
 
Mom declined another pastry just after I accepted another, never being one to turn down a treat. Mom left, saying she was going upstairs because she needed a shower before going to bed. I ridiculously thought she was going to give us away when she glanced at me just as she said she was getting a shower.
 
After Mom left, Dad spoke to me in a lowered voice.
 
"Son, I know this is a little sensitive, but it has to be said."
 
Oh, no. He saw us. Christ, I thought he'd be angry, raving mad. Not calm like this.
 
"I know you're a growing lad, full of vim and vigor as I once was," Dad said, "but you have to get better control of yourself."
 
"Control?" I mustered as much innocence as I could and plastered it onto my face.
 
"Yes. You know what I mean." Dad waved his hand several times, then pointed it around and under the table. "You were starting to show when you came in the kitchen."
 
Despite myself, my face flushed beet red.
 
"I know, I know. It's just one of those things. It happens sometimes when a man is near a woman, even his own mother."
 
Dad looked away, up at the ceiling, as if he was remembering something.
 
He went on, looking at the table rather than me, completing his thought, "... especially sitting so close. Not much can be done about it, but you have to try."
Dad paused, staring at the table. He looked up.
 
"If your mother ever gets wind of it, she'll have a fit. There won't be a recital, and that would break her heart. And she'll never look at you the same."
 
Dad looked away, wistfully, at the ceiling again.
 
"Nope. She won't, that's for sure."
 
"Dad, I ...,"
 
He looked back at me, cutting me off. "I know, I know. You couldn't help it, sitting right behind a good looking woman like your mother. Even if she is your mom, a man can't help it. I know you have to sit like that to play that piece, but, um, maybe you should put on a jock strap before you play. That would help. Can you do that?"
 
"Yeah, Dad. I can do that," I said, eager to please, then feeling ashamed, I dropped my head.
 
"No, no. None of that. It's natural. Don't feel bad about yourself. God knows you can't help it at your age, I know about that. You just do as I said and make sure your mother never finds out. OK?"
 
"Ok, Dad."
 
"That's my boy." Dad got up from the table and walked past me toward me the door. "Well, don't stay up too late and don't think about it too much." Dad put his hand on my shoulder and shook it. "OK?"
 
"Ok, Dad."
 
"Not a word of this in confession. Right?"
 
"Right, Dad."
 
Extracurricular Activity
 
Mom didn't want to practice the next two nights. I wondered if Dad had said anything to her after they went to bed but decided that he hadn't. She must just be freaked about standing in the kitchen, drinking tea and eating biscuits with her husband while her son's cum dried in her panties. I rushed home from work to talk to Mom on Wednesday, knowing I had about half an hour before Dad got home. I found her at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea. I got right to the point.
 
"Mom, we have to practice or we'll blow the recital."
 
She avoided my eyes, looking down like my father had done Sunday night.
 
"You don't want that, do you?
 
"No."
 
"Is something wrong?"
 
There, I had opened it up. I had thought about this all day and was scared of this, knowing it might lead to an ultimatum.
 
"No. Well, not really. It's just that," Mom was twisting her fingers together on the table in front of her. "It's just that ... things went a little further than I thought. I just, I just ... oh, I'm so confused."
 
Tears appeared under Mom's eyes, running over her cheeks and dripping onto the table, but there was no sound, no sobbing or crying. I tried Dad's thought, that I was just an eager teenager that couldn't help himself.
 
"Mom, I know. It's just that, well, I can't help myself, being so close to you, you being so pretty and all."
 
"I know all about that, Jon. I'm not really all that worried because I know I won't let it get out of hand. You know that too, don't you?"
 
Mom's piercing look demanded my attention and I nodded.
 
"I know, Mom. Just a little fun, that's all. Maybe not so far from now on."
 
"Yes," Mom looked down. "Maybe not so far."
 
Thank god she wasn't cutting me off completely. Putting my dick into her panties was a little outrageous and I was certain if it hadn't been for the recital she would have cut me off for good. Instead, she was just putting the brakes on a little. I was pretty sure that meant I could still play with her tits, but had to keep my dick out of her panties. But maybe not my hands, I thought. She hadn't been upset after that, so that must be ok. It made sense. That must have felt good to her, but jamming my cock under her bum probably didn't do anything for her at all. I had to remember to make her feel good, I thought, repeating it, trying to burn it into my mind.
 
"It's something your dad said to me Sunday night. I couldn't sleep for hours after that."
 
"What did he say?"
 
"He said all boys have a little something for their moms but it doesn't mean anything, they grow out of it."
 
"He said that?"
 
"Yes. Do you think he knows? I couldn't bear that."
 
"No Mom. Sunday night, after you went up to bed, Dad told me to watch myself because he could see I was a little excited."
 
"Really? He wasn't mad?"
 
"No. He said he understood, that it was natural even if the woman was your mother, especially one as good looking as you."
 
Mom's face flushed. Her tears had stopped and dried on her cheeks.
 
"And?"
 
"He told me to be careful because you would get really, really mad if you noticed."
 
Mom couldn't help a little burst of quiet laughter at the irony of that.
 
"He told me to wear a jock strap whenever I practiced sitting right behind you."
 
Mom burst out laughing, loudly this time, and I joined in.
 
"Oh, goodness gracious," Mom said, tears in her eyes, of joy this time. "You better do as your father says," she said, laughing, "because he might check. So," she mused, "he doesn't know how far things have gone?"
 
"Nope."
 
"Don't say 'nope'."
 
"No," I corrected myself. "Is that all that was bothering you, Mom?
 
She said it was but I could tell there was something else. She insisted that was all. She got up and put her cup and saucer in the sink.
 
"Your father will be home any minute."
 
He should have been here now. I said as much.
 
"Oh, right. I asked him to stop by the store on the way home."
 
I was right behind Mom and she almost walked into me when she turned around. I looked down at her chest and she noted where I was looking.
 
"Will you show them to me, Mom?"
 
"Don't be ridiculous," Mom barked.
 
"Come on, Mom. I know they're beautiful. I can feel that."
 
"No way."
 
"Come on, Mom. Let me see them so I can imagine them at night."
 
"You think about me at night?"
 
"Yes."
 
"No. That's not right for you to think about me at night ... doing what?" Mom looked inquisitively into my eyes, thought better of it and, blushing, said, "Don't tell me. I don't want to know."
 
Mom tried to push past me but I blocked her way, putting my hands at the top of her arms to guide her back in front of me, then sliding them down and inward to let my palms brush the sides of her breasts.
 
"Come on, Mom. Just a little peek."
 
I twisted my hand, rubbing my palms on the tops of her breasts, then started undoing a button on her white blouse.
 
"Stop it, Jon. Your father will be home any minute."
 
"No he won't," I said, slipping the button out and moving down to the next one. "If you sent him to the store, you know he'll be at least fifteen more minutes. He can't find anything in there."
 
"Jon, don't," Mom said as I slipped the second button undone and moved to the next.
 
She was saying don't but she was breathing harder.
 
"Don't," she said, more quietly as I loosed the third.
 
"No," she peeped as the fourth gave in.
 
"Please," she whispered as the fifth fell.
 
Mom didn't say anything when I undid the sixth and last button, pulling her blouse up out of her skirt to get to it. I spread the blouse open, then reached for Mom's bra, fumbling, fumbling. Mom stood, silent, arms listless at her sides as I struggled with the hook.
 
"Christ," I said, impatient in my haste.
 
"Don't swear," Mom said automatically, like a drone.
 
Finally, the bra twisted open. I pulled it wide and Mom's full, bare tits spilled forward, and down, bouncing.
 
Man. They were gorgeous. Sure they sagged down a little but they were larger than I expected after handling them. The nipples didn't point down as I'd seen in National Geographic pictures of naked older women. They sat on top, above a large, round swell, perking up nice and thick, getting longer and stiffer as I looked.
 
"Ahhh, Mom. These are fantastic!"
 
I closed my hand around the bulk of her breasts, encircling her growing nipples in the crooks of my thumbs.
 
"You have incredible tits," I said, expressing my delight loudly.
 
"Quiet," Mom's head twisted around. "Do you want the whole neighborhood to hear?"
 
"Wow," I cried, just as loudly, then lower, "What fantastic tits."
 
"Breasts," Mom corrected me.
 
"Tits," I repeated. "Every woman has breasts," I said, "but these are tits."
 
The admiration in my face showed Mom how much I meant it. She smiled, then frowned as my head lowered.
 
"No, Jon, don't."
 
But she couldn't stop me even though she raised her hands to hold my head away. My lips approached her stiff nipple as I opened my hand to make room. It stood up like a pygmy's cock.
 
"No," Mom repeated as my mouth enveloped her nipple and I started sucking it.
 
"No," Mom cried, arching her back and pushing her tit further into my mouth, her arms suddenly pulling my head down instead of trying to push it away.
 
I knew then what else was bothering Mom. She liked it. She liked my attention, the way I teased her, and the way it made her feel. And yes, I think she even liked standing in front of her husband, eating a pastry, with my wet cum drying on her ass. And that bothered her, because that was way out there, and she was a good, church-going woman.
 
If my theory was correct, I reasoned, all I had to do was take my time, move Mom along in small steps, excite her in ways she wasn't used to, in ways that would never happen with Dad, and one day, when she was really horny, she might let me get into her.
 
That thought sent a zing through my cock but the crunch of tires on gravel sent a chill up my spine. Mom was bent back over the arm I had curled around the small of her back, and I was leaning over her, mouth enveloping her tit and sucking her nipple hard. My other hand was pushed between her legs, rubbing her front. Mom threw my head back with a quick snap.
 
"Your father," she cried, panic on her face.