Incest Stories by Alwayswantedto

[nilr1]

Gently, I urged her head forward again. She resisted but this time she was the weaker and slowly, slowly, I pressed her reluctant face closer to my cock. But not all the way. I couldn't get her close enough to make contact though I could tell from the heat of her breath she was only millimeters away. God, what a tease. Please, please, let me touch your face, just once, that will be enough.


Then it happened. A thick, warm, wet slug pressed the underside of my cock, pushing, enveloping, sliding over me. Her tongue, her tongue, the thought crashed into my head. I was going to cum. The shock was too much. I could feel it gathering steam, starting to roil up my shaft. Her head was gouging into my stomach, her upper lip prying my head away, fighting against the strength of the two elastics keeping my cock tight to my skin. Hurry, my head yelled. It's coming. The hot liquid left my balls, entering my shaft, rocketing up. My head tipped forward and Mom's upper lip slipped over the top of my cock and her teeth grazed my head while her lower lip, softened by her tongue, sweetly tickled the underside of my glans. Splash, splash, splash. In the nick of time. I pushed, shoving more of my cock into Mom's sweet mouth, gently nudging her tonsils. Squirt, squirt, squirt. I could hear her sucking, gulping, swallowing my copious treat, both hands now holding her head in place, the brush long since dropped to the carpet. She was sucking me now even though I was finished, pulling the dregs from my tip, letting me fuck her mouth with short strokes.

Finally, she pulled away. She didn't look at me, swiveling around instead to face the dresser. Her face was turned down but I could see that her eyes were open. Her right hand stretched out, pointing down toward the floor, the strap of her nightgown hanging around her elbow.

"Hand me my brush before you go, please," Mom's said in a strangely disconnected voice.

I picked up the brush and placed it in her hand, turned, and walked away, feeling somewhat divorced from the situation myself.

"Michael," Mom's soft voice caught up to me.

I stopped and turned. "Yes."

"I like my hair brushed every night." Her voice seemed to echo, like an offstage direction.

I nodded, noticing her eyes watching me in the mirror.

"I'll see you tomorrow night then, after Dad's asleep."

"Ok." I turned away again, shuffling toward the door.

"Michael," she called in her normal voice.

"Yes?"

"Say goodnight to your mother."

"Goodnight, Mom ... I love you."