Incest Stories by Alwayswantedto

[nilr1]

No, Dad's right there. He could turn around." She kept upright, pushing on the horse's neck.

"Stand up in the stirrups," I said. She did. Reaching down, I unbuttoned my shorts, pulling my very hard cock out with great difficulty. I reached under her skirt again, sliding my hands up to grasp her by the hips. I scrunched forward under her, my cock bursting up like a little flagpole. I pulled her down on me.

"No, Roger, oh no," she cried, somewhat unconvincingly since I'd just told her I needed to fuck her. I kept her pulled down while I poked by cock around. Finally, the head found its slot and shoved its ugly face into her beautiful, steamy wet pussy. I slid all the way into her, right to the hilt. It seemed like a long slide, she was so hot and wet, and exquisite!

"Ohhhhh, Roger, ohhhhh, Rog, ohhhhhhh." That was the best sound I'd heard in these mountains, as far as I was concerned. She continued to make her little sounds. I kept myself fully plugged into her, content to let the motion of the horse do our fucking. I peered around at my Dad, riding ahead, way up there. If he did look back, there was nothing to see except me sitting behind Mom.

I slid my hand around and grasped the front of her pussy under her skirt. We rode along, rocking together, pussy and cock, pussy and cock. Time slowed to align itself with our gentle yet intense little fuck. It was all friction, rocking and friction. I was fully in her, and I never pulled back. She never rose up. We stayed plugged to the hilt the whole time. I don't know how long it took, but it was a long time. It was probably the longest fuck of my life. We just rode along, my cock in her cunt, my finger circling slowly on her clit. She got wetter and wetter, soaking me and the saddle.

I started pulsing my cock, tensing my muscles and bulging into her cunt. She loved it, and so did I. Finally, I felt her trying to clench my cock, but her legs were too wide. I could feel her buttocks tightening in cheeky little muscle spasms. She started to really soak me. I began spurting into her, again and again and again. I had never come so much. We both relaxed, still riding along, my cock periodically twitching inside her. Eventually I softened up and fell out of her, but we kept our soaking wet, sticky crotches firmly together.

After a while, Mom turned up and kissed me again. She laughed, "Well, I guess you fucked me. Is that what you call a Rogering," and she laughed, loudly. Dad turned and looked at us, smiled and continued riding.

"I'll show you a real rogering tomorrow, Mom, or tonight. Whenever we get the chance."

"Is that a threat? I can hardly wait," she laughed again.

"Neither can I," I replied, but with more serious intent. I don't think Mom knew what a rogering really was, but now that she'd mentioned it I was intent on showing her.

That night, Dad threw his sleeping bag onto the same bunk as Mom's, his on the inside. He was the first to sleep, as usual, facing the wall and snoring softly. After Mom had washed herself and got ready for bed, she motioned me over for a hug goodnight, standing there in the middle of the room in the moonlight, wearing only a long t-shirt that barely covered her ass, with my father laying behind her. I took her into my arms, sliding my arms over her body, engaging her in a long, leisurely french kiss. My cock rose and lodged in her crotch, between her legs. She stood up on tippy toe, accommodating my rod and pinching my ear lobe between her teeth, she whispered teasingly, "Roger wants to fuck me, doesn't he?"

I nodded into her.

"Oh, you bad boy. That's soooo naughty."

She stepped back, grasped my cock through my shorts and tugged it as she pulled away. She turned to her bed and bent over to get into her bag. Pausing, she turned to look back at me, pulling her t-shirt over her hips, baring her cheeks, swaying from side to side, thighs tight together.

"I'm not sure I can ride tomorrow," she said, I'm so sore from rubbing on that saddle, I guess." She flashed a big smile at me and slipped into her bag.

I sat down on my bunk, facing her, slid down my boxers, and sat with my cock standing up like a pole. I grasped, it and waved it at her, smiling away.

Not to be outdone, Mom sat up, and pulled her t-shirt over her head, tossing it onto the bunk, arched her back and thrust her tits out and up, her stiff nipples poking up into the night.

OK, you win, I mouthed at her. She laughed, made a face, and lay down to sleep. Facing her, I was sure that I could see her eyes sparkling in the fading light. I fell asleep.

I awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon. Mom was cooking breakfast again and Dad, as usual, was nowhere to be seen. Perfect. Even more perfect, Mom was wasn't wearing her t-shirt, but she wasn't naked. She was wearing one of Dad's white undershirts, not the t-shirt type, but the kind with no sleeves at all. Her breasts literally jutted out in this thing, the nipples threatening to rip right through the thin cotton material that clung to her sides, swept over the swell of her belly and buttocks until it ended just below her ass. I couldn't believe she was wearing this in front of me with Dad nearby.

"Come on, sit up, its ready now. Come on, get up."

I pulled myself out of my bag and stumbled to the table where a plate and a coffee cup was waiting. I wore only boxers, and as I sat down I realized that I had a huge boner. I thanked God that Dad hadn't come in and tucked myself under the table, hiding my errant prick. My eyes strayed back to Mom, gluing onto the crack of her ass which drew a line from between the dimples below the small of her back to the bottom of her cheeks, visible through the cotton undershirt. Her legs were tanned and lightly muscled, reflecting the morning sun filtering through the window and open doorway, and her feet were bare.

Mom brought a large black frying pan over to the table and filled my plate with eggs and bacon. She returned with a pot of coffee after putting the empty frying pan back on the stove and filled my cup and hers.

"Aren't you eating?" I asked.

"I ate with Dad, sleepyhead," she answered. "Eat up while its hot."

I guess she didn't want to talk, so I did as I was told. Mom sipped her coffee and gazed out the door. I let my eyes dwell on her chest, her tits sloping down toward her belly, perfectly outlined by the tight undershirt. My eyes followed down to the bottom of the shirt which just barely covered her pussy.

"Do you find me attractive?"

Startled, I looked up to find her looking right into my eyes. "Yes," I replied, quietly.

"Do you like looking at me?"

"Yes," quietly again.

"You can't let Dad see you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Mom."

"You took a big risk yesterday. You could have ruined everything for all of us. Don't do it again. Understand?"

"Yes, Mom, I understand."

"Good," she smiled, a big generous smile, and her eyes softened. "Look," she said, her eyes dropping to her lap. I followed her gaze down to her beautiful thighs. "Look what you did to me." She opened her legs a little. She looked up to me, querying. I furrowed my brow. She looked back down, spreading her legs wider. The undershirt slid up as her legs parted, further and further until she was spread wide open, her pussy bared to my eyes. "See?"

I just stared. My mother was sitting there, legs wide open, showing me her pussy. I didn't know what she was wanting me to see but I said, "I'm sorry, mom, did I make it sore?" remembering her comment the night before.

"Sore? No. Look harder."

I stared. Yes, I could see her pussy, lightly covered by a glistening strip of brown hair, her pussy lips shining as well.

Exasperated, she said, "I'm wet, silly. See what you do to me. It's so wrong but I can't help myself. I've never felt so alive. My whole body tingles when you're looking at me. I've been wet for three days."

I reached out to touch her but she stood up quickly and backed away.
No. You finish eating and then come help me with the dishes."

I brought my dishes to the sink when I finished. Reaching around her, I dumped them in the sink. Picking up a towel, I reached for a cup to dry.

"No. Just leave them. Stand behind me and watch out the window for your Dad."

I did as she asked. She swirled the water around but she was really wasn't washing. She'd done only one cup and a plate the whole time she'd been standing there. Clearly, doing dishes wasn't on her mind.

I threw the towel onto the counter beside the dish rack. She turned her head slightly to look at it, then back to the sink. I did nothing. Her hands stopped swirling. She just stood there. I reached forward to grasp the sides of the undershirt and slid it up over her hips, baring her ass and leaving the shirt bunched at her waist. I waited again, just taking in her gorgeous butt.

Finally, I said, "Do you like it when I look at you?"

"Yes."

"Lean forward a little." She did, stretching her hands to the far side of the sink, still in the water.

"Open your legs. Just a little." She shuffled her bare feet a little to the side.

"Why did you do that at the table? Did you want me to look at it?"

"Yes."

"Look at what?"

"My pussy."

"No," I said, grasping her hair and gently tugging her head back. "When you open your legs like that, it's not a pussy anymore, is it?"

"No."

"What is it?"

"A cunt."

"That's right. You wanted to show it to me, didn't you? You wanted to show it to your son, didn't you?"

"Yes. I wanted to show it to you, to show my cunt to my son. I can't help it."

"You're a very naughty woman, Mom. You let me fuck you yesterday. You waved your ass in front of me. You knew what you were doing. And you let me fuck you. Didn't you?"

"Yes," she hissed.

"You're going to do more naughty things with me, aren't you?"

"Yes."

I hadn't touched her but her breathing had become rapid and deep while we talked. So had mine. I placed the back of my hand on the counter beside her, cupping my palm upwards.

"Squirt some of that into my hand," I said in a firm, commanding voice, nodding my head toward the plastic squeeze bottle of mazola oil she'd used in the frying pan. She didn't question me. She lifted her right hand and squeezed some into my palm.

"More," I said.

She squeezed more. I pulled my hand back, careful not to spill it, and turned it over onto the top of her right cheek, spreading it down over her butt, cupping the bottom and squeezing it, pushing the mazola into the flesh as I pressed it back up. I returned my hand to the counter. Still holding the bottle, she filled my hand again without waiting for me to tell her. I brought it back and covered her left cheek with the slippery oil. After spreading it around, I moved to her other cheek and fondled it for a minute before returning for another handful. I let this drip slowly into the crack at the top of her ass, then, using the edge of my hand on the thumb side, I pressed between her cheeks, sliding it up and down, making sure the knuckle of my thumb grazed and even dug into her anus.

"Give me a big handful, then push back and open your legs more." Again, she did as she was told.

I shoved the whole handful into the crack of her ass then quickly shoved my hand between her cheeks, pressing the slippery goo against her rosebud, then moved my hand under her ass, cupping it and catching the extra fluid. I pushed it back up against her ass and rubbed forward along the bottom of her pussy. Oil was dripping down the inside of her thighs. I started massaging her pussy, back and forth, rubbing not quickly, but firmly sliding through her slick crevice. I started pushing my fingers farther in, and when my hand was fully forward, I stretched my thumb up to her little rear whole and pressed it in. I did this again and again.

I still held her hair in my left hand, keeping her head back, her face looking up at the ceiling. She was breathing very hard. She looked so awesome! I was now getting three fingers into her and pushing my thumb up to the knuckle on every pass. She was incredibly slippery. She grunted a little each time my thumb pushed into her little hole.

"That's right, Mom. Grunt. I like the sound of that." I pushed forward again but this time I didn't stop my thumb at the first knuckle, I slid it in all the way, and held it there. She rewarded me with a longer grunt. Keeping my thumb completely in her, I started moving it around in a small circle. I pushed all four of my fingers into her, and started pushing into her, pulling back but never out because her ass followed my hand as it withdrew. She really wanted it, at least her body did.

I pulled her upright, sliding my left hand around to the front of her throat. I rasped into her ear, "If Dad wasn't here, I fuck this right now," wiggling my thumb in her ass to emphasize my meaning.

"He's gone," she gasped, "He went to get help because your horse was lame this morning, too."

"What? He's not here?" I almost shouted. So that's why I was treated to the undershirt display. Well, I guess things were going a little beyond what Mom had expected. I turned her and steered her over to the bunk, Dad's bunk. I saw that he'd actually rolled the mattress and placed it neatly in the middle of the bunk.

Standing before the bunk, mother in front of me, I told her, "Grab the rails."

She leaned forward to bend over for me.