had suppressed and held back my sexual urges for so long; kept that part of me locked up. But in a single moment, the key had been turned and the door was opened. I dried my hands and made my way upstairs. I wriggled out of my pants and practically tore my panties to shreds. Then I threw myself onto the bed, spread my legs wide apart and started rubbing my pussy with a manic, obsessed fury. I came in seconds, the image of my son burnt into my retinas.
From then on, it was only a matter of when not if. Over the following weeks and months, my old nymphomaniacal tendencies reasserted themselves with absolute force. Artie got laid more often than he had ever experienced in his entire life. I masturbated with a ferocity and intensity I hadn't felt since my early twenties. Barely a word was spoken between me and Chris, we simply revolved around one another, binary stars, full of hunger and lust, exchanging the occasional glance, freighted with importance and desire.
I got myself back on the pill. Artie had his tubes tied after Ava was born, so I needn't have worried about contraception. But I did now. My doctor didn't ask any intrusive questions and I didn't offer any illuminating answers. He signed the prescription, wished me a happy holidays and then watched me walk out of his office.
It was a couple of weeks before Christmas and I had gone out with some friends for a meal and a few drinks. I was a little tipsy when the cab dropped me off at my home. All the lights seemed to be out, so I assumed everyone had gone to bed. As we've already established, my husband wasn't a night-owl, so he would certainly have turned in. Calvin and Ava would be in bed.
But what about Christian?
He was still up, and he wasn't in his room. When I opened the front door, I heard some muffled sounds from the living room. I tip-toed forward, the only lights illuminating the darkness were the Christmas decorations and the flickering images from the TV. I peered in the room and saw two profoundly shocking sights.
The first: On the television screen, a young blonde woman was being sodomised by a huge black guy, while she frantically sucked the cock of another equally huge black guy.
The second: My adult son was stripped naked and he was sat masturbating on the couch. I hadn't seen him fully nude since he was a small boy. And I hadn't seen his erect cock since who knows when. He was sitting there, bold as brass, his legs spread wide, his hand wrapped firmly round his tall, thick meat. I'd seen some pretty big dicks, back in my wild youth, but I don't think I'd seen anything as big as his. It was huge. An absolute monster.
I stood there for a few moments, my panties a soaking, sopping mess, and stared at him in action. His fist was almost a blur, as he tugged and squeezed on his prick. It's shadow stretched out across his body, all the way up his chest. There was a sheen of sweat all over him, making him shine in the dim light. He was breathing a little heavily, but he wasn't panting or groaning. I could see the muscles in his legs straining. I could see his big, hairless balls twitching. I could see his toes curling inwards.
My mouth had dropped open, my tongue licking my lips. One of my hands was flat on the wall, supporting me as I swayed and shook unsteadily. The other hand was at my chest, cupping my breast, gently squeezing and fondling my flesh. Eventually, I decided to leave. Give him a little privacy. Part of me desperately wanted to watch him cum. Part of me desperately wanted to rush in there and help him cum. But the sane, rational centre of my mind was still functioning...just. I quietly tried to leave.
But then...
"Don't go," Chris said, softly.
I froze, mid-stride. For a moment I thought maybe I was hearing things.
"Mom, don't go. Come in. Join me."
He didn't pause for a second as he spoke. All the time, his hand flew up and down, continuing to beat his meat.
"I don't mind you looking," he said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "in fact, I like it."
I tentatively entered the room. My eyes were still glued to his naked form. The constant movement, the jerking motion. And then there was the sound. The rhythmic slapping of his hand against his balls. It was so vivid. So real.
"I saw the lights from the cab pulling into the driveway. I knew you were coming home. I could have stopped. Gone to my room. You'd have been none the wiser."
"Why didn't you?" I whispered.
"You know why," he smiled at me, "I wanted you to find me. I wanted you to see me. You like looking at me, don't you?"
I said nothing.
"I know you do. I've seen the way you look at me. I've seen your eyes follow me round the room. The way you watch me when I'm out mowing the lawn, when I take my top off."
I almost squeaked in recognition, as if I'd been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
"It's nice being watched. Being wanted. But I suppose you know how that feels, don't you? You feel the same way when I look at you."
I gasped.
"You're so hot, Mom. So fucking sexy. I love watching you. Watching the way your body moves. The way your boobs jiggle under your nightdress. The way your ass cheeks fill out a tight pair of jeans."
"You shouldn't...you should be looking at me like that," I croaked, my panties so wet, my juices were trickling down my inner thighs.
"I felt so guilty about it. I felt so guilty about wanting you. Wanting to fuck you. I thought I was a monster."
"You're not a monster, baby."
"Oh, I know that now. Back then I thought I was sick in the head. But it's amazing what you can get used to. What you can rationalise. I soon became comfortable with the idea. It was easier when I realised you felt the same way."
"I don't," I replied, knowing it was a lie.
"Sure thing, Mom. Whatever you say."
He carried on with his onanistic pursuit, entirely unfazed by my presence.
"It's pretty impressive, isn't it?" He said.
"What is?"
"My cock. Your little boy's cock."
"Uh...yeah, sure."
"It's long. I haven't measured it, but I reckon it must be at least nine inches. I can't get my hand round all of it, so I know it's pretty thick too."
I just stared at him. Stared at it.
"I thought I was a freak. When I first started fooling around with girls, it scared a few of them away. They didn't know what to do with it. They were intimidated by it. But then I realised it was a blessing."
I was still stood a few feet away from him, my hands now by my side. On he went, blissfully happy in his ongoing act of self love.
"Why don't you hitch up your skirt?" He said.
"What?"
"Hitch up your skirt. I want to see you properly."
"Chris, we shouldn't..."
"Do it."
I'd like to say I paused to contemplate my course of action, weigh up the situation and explore the moral alternatives. But that would be a lie. Without giving it a moment's thought, I pulled up my skirt. I'd dressed up for my evening out, and I was secretly thrilled to realise I was wearing stockings and a thong.
"Take off your panties."
My old training kicked in, born from a thousand different experiences with Uncle Bob or Mr Lyons or a hundred different jocks or a dozen or more college professors. Or an endless succession of guys I'd picked up in bars. My submissive nature. My desire to please. My need to be told what to do. As soon as my skirt was fully round my waist, I wriggled out of my underwear. They fell down my legs and I stepped out of them gingerly.
"Sit down on the chair. Opposite me."
I sat down.
"Now, spread your legs for me."
I did as he told me to. Slowly parting my limbs and opening myself up to him. In truth, the light was so dim, he wouldn't have seen all that much, but it was the symbolism that counted. I was exposing myself to him, revealing the most intimate part of my body. All boundaries of decency and decorum collapsing like a house of cards.
"Touch yourself."
I brought my hand to my cunt and began to rub furiously.
"You're so beautiful, Mom."
"Thank you, baby."
"Are you wet?"
"Yes."
"Are you turned on?"
"Oh fuck, yes."
"Are you going to cum for me, Mom?"
"Oh God, yes! Oh fuck, yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!"
In a matter of seconds I did as he had asked. My whole body writhing around. My nipples throbbing. My cunt clenching. Juices gushing out of my hot, tight snatch. Not long afterwards, he came. His cock rising up and then exploding in his hand. Gobs of cum shot out of his dick, splashing against his belly and chest.
Both of us sat there in silence, the only sounds that could be heard was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the heavy breathing from our aroused bodies. Finally, Chris stood up and walked towards me. His cock, still semi-erect, bobbed up and down as he moved. He paused, picked up my panties and then used them to wipe his body clean. Then he stood in front of me.
"Here," he said, handing me the little ball of damp cloth in my hand. I held it tightly, feeling the moisture against my skin.
He bent over and brought his hand between my legs. He cupped my vulva, his thumb brushing through my patch of pubic hair.
"Lose this," he said, motioning down to my crotch with his eyes, "I want you to be silky smooth down there, the next time we're together."
I nodded silently. Then he stood up, turned round and walked out of the room. I watched him leave, admiring his muscular ass cheeks as he disappeared. I lay there, sprawled out, my legs wide apart, my skirt hitched up round my waist. My cunt pulsing and throbbing, almost glowing like a warning light on the shore.
The next morning I booked an appointment at the beauty salon for a full-body waxing. A few months later I ended up getting laser treatment, burning away every follicle and wisp of pubic hair I had. I don't know if Artie ever noticed the change. If he did, he never said anything.
Chris and I had sex for the first time on the night before Christmas Eve. We both waited for everyone else to go to bed, and then we sneaked downstairs to be alone together. I wore a black negligee and stockings. We made out on the couch, as he fingered me. He praised my newly-smooth snatch, as his digits probed inside. Our tongues duelled together, our mouths wide open and hungry. Then I sucked his dick. He came in my mouth and I swallowed every drop. Just like I always would.
Maybe ten minutes later, once he was ready to go again, he placed me down on my back, pushed my legs wide apart, and lined his cock up at the entrance to my cunt. He looked at me and smiled. I bit my bottom lip and tugged on my nipples with my hands. The negligee, torn to shreds, lay on the carpet.
"Do you want my cock, Mommy?"
I nodded.
"Do you want your son's cock inside you?"
I squealed out a mumbled yes.
"Beg me for it."
"Please, baby. Please give me your dick. Mommy wants it. Mommy needs it. She needs you to be inside her. She needs your cock. Fuck Mommy. Please, my precious boy, fuck Mommy."
So he did. He slammed himself inside me and I gasped. There was pain to what he was doing, but there was excitement too. He was right. He was big. One of the biggest cocks I'd ever had, and I had enjoyed plenty. But most importantly, this was my son's cock. That added a whole extra level of intimacy and excitement to what was happening. Just the very fact of it induced a whole frisson of pleasure. This was incest. This was illegal. This was magnificent.
He pounded away at me, his beefy tool sliding in and out of my hot, wet channel. I stretched my legs around him, trying to pull him closer, deeper. My hands reached out to his neck, and I clung on for dear life as he pummelled and thrashed away at my body. The entire couch rocked with our movement, as he fucked me senseless. We were trying to be quiet, but our incest would not be denied or dampened down.
I had already cum half a dozen times or more, my orgasmic nature coming to the fore once again. My eyes rolled back in their sockets, as I gargled and groaned and panted. His dick felt huge inside me, ginormous; an obscene invader, stretching and filling me out in a way I had never experienced.
He bent over and buried his face in my tits, chewing on my nipples, slurping on my creamy flesh. He licked and bit at my breasts, sucking as much of me inside him as he could. Then we kissed some more, my mouth falling open to welcome his tongue with my own. I wrapped my arms round his neck and pulled him down as tightly to me as I could. I was bent almost double on that couch, and my back would be killing me in the morning.
He'd changed his rhythm now. He was no longer thrusting and slamming. He was buried deep inside me, to the hilt. He was just pushing forward, as if his body wanted to climb into mine. His butt and hips just twitched sensuously as he carried on grinding his body against me. I kissed and licked and bit at his neck and shoulders. There wasn't a glimpse of light between us, our bodies were squeezed together, as one.
"My baby, my baby, my baby," I whispered, holding him, welcoming him, needing him.
He came inside me, shooting his seed deep within my body. His whole frame froze, every muscle straining. His back arched, his legs shaking, his dick erupting. Every drop of him shooting against the walls of my snatch, like little pearly bullets. Then he collapsed on top of me. I lay there, slightly winded, his body a dead weight pushing me down into the couch. I stroked his hair, I caressed his back.
And I cried.
I cry a lot these days. I have done ever since Chris and I started sleeping together. I weep. I feel sick sometimes, wracked with guilt and shame about what we are doing. Don't get me wrong, I love him and I truly love fucking him, in a way I can't properly explain. But I know it's wrong. I know we shouldn't be doing it. It's a betrayal. Not just a betrayal of his father, but a betrayal of the entire family. A betrayal of the normal, regular, mother-son relationship we should have.
But it doesn't stop me.
I sobbed that night, his cum dripping out of me, tears rolling down my cheeks.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"We shouldn't have done this. It was a mistake," I whimpered, my voice breaking and faltering.
"Hey, hey, hey," he said, pulling my face closer to his, "don't say that. I wanted to be with you."
"But it's wrong."
He kissed my cheeks, licking each tear with his tongue. He smiled at me. A solid, reassuring smile.
"I love you, Mom. Soooooo much. What happened between us was beautiful. Perfect. You were perfect."
"A mother shouldn't do that with her son."
"You gave me what I wanted. You always do. And I adore you for it."
"But it's wrong."
"Shhhh," he said, softly, "you're my good little girl now, aren't you?"
I nodded.
"You're my good little slut? Who'll do whatever I tell you?"
I nodded again.
"I love you, Mom."
I sighed, then we kissed once more. I knew what we had done was wrong, but I knew I wasn't going to stop it from happening again. After all, like he said, I was his good little slut.
5
Once the rubicon has been crossed, there was no stopping us. Despite my concerns, despite my guilt, the brakes were off. Almost every night we would fuck in the living room after everyone else had gone to bed. Regularly I would sneak into his room first thing in the morning and wake him with a sloppy blowjob. My head bobbing up and down under the duvet as he groaned and moaned uncontrollably. We would constantly be fondling and groping one another as we passed each other in a room or hallway.
He had reignited that part of me that had been slumbering away for years. The slutty, filthy, libidinous part of me. I had been a fully-fledged nymphomaniac when I was a younger woman, and rediscovering that aspect of my personality was like slipping into a pair of comfortable shoes. Sex is a bit like riding a bike; you never forget how to do it. I was ready to fuck. I was ready to suck. And my eldest son was the lucky recipient of my largesse.
The best times were when we could spend a few hours alone together. I suggested that Artie might take his youngest children to watch a movie on a Saturday morning; or perhaps go swimming with them.
"You don't spend enough time with them," I had told him, "they barely see you, since you're working all the time."
"What about Chris?" Artie had asked, "would he want to ride along?"
"Oh no, no, no," I spluttered, "I'm sure he'd have better things to do on a Saturday morning than hanging around with his little brother and sister."
Which, of course, he did; namely, pounding away at his mother's cunt and ass, while she devoured the mattress in his room.
Then there were date nights.
Chris would disappear, saying he was going off to meet his buddies, or something. No one really paid that close attention; he was a grown-up, he could do what he liked. I would come up with some cover story about enjoying an evening out with the girls. I'd get all dressed up, including black stockings and a thong, and go off to spend time with my son.
On occasion we might go out for an actual date - a meal somewhere or maybe a film - but usually we'd just check into some cheap hotel and spend a couple of hours fucking each other's brains out. These were the same sort of places I had visited years earlier with Uncle Bob; no different, save perhaps a new lick of paint. Although this time, the tawdry events involved my biological son.
I was sat on the bed at one particularly sleazy motel on the outskirts of town, when I heard the door of my room open. I had dispensed with my dress, and was wearing only my underwear. I looked up and saw Christian walk in, my heart soaring at the sight of him, as it always did. But, on this occasion, he wasn't alone. Following him into the room was a young woman.
"Hey, Mom," he said, amiably.
"Uh...hello," I stammered in reply.
"This is Kendall," he said, motioning to the girl.
"Hiya," she said, in a fairly bright and breezy sort of way, as she was chewing gum.
"Uh...hi," I managed to blurt out.
"I kind of...well...uh...I kind of thought Kendall might want to...we'll...I thought she might want to join us."
"Join us?"
"Yeah. In bed."
My mouth fell open. I clamped it shut, then it fell open again. I didn't know what to say, and I was suddenly totally conscious of the fact I was sat there in my bra and panties, with a complete stranger stood idly by.
"What the? I mean...what do you..? What?"
"I thought the three of us could, well, you know, the three of us could fuck." He at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
I was silent again. I didn't know how to respond. I'd been with girls before, back in my glory days, I was perfectly happy to eat some pussy, but this was different. Chris hadn't given me any warning. He hadn't discussed his little scheme with me. And then there was the sudden realisation that this situation was leaving me a little exposed, in every way possible.
"Look, I don't know what's going on here, but this isn't funny. I don't know why you insist on calling me Mom, but I am not your mother..."
"It's okay, Mom, Kendall knows. She won't be any trouble, will you Kenny?"
The girl giggled and smiled at me.
"Sure thing. Don't worry, Mrs Ingham, I'm totally fine with you and Chris fucking. It's super, super hot. Incest isn't a big deal for me at all."
"Tell her why," he urged.
"Sure. You see, I'm getting boned at home too. My older brother fucks me and so does my Dad. Sometimes, they both do me at the same time."
She said this in such a matter-of-fact tone, it was as if she was simply describing the route she had taken to reach the motel, or what she had enjoyed for dinner that evening."Well, that may be the case, but this is a very unusual situation. I'm not sure we should be here..."
Suddenly, before I could finish, Kendall walked over to me and, swinging her leg over mine, she straddled me on top of the bed. She wasn't very tall, barely five foot in height, but she was deceptively strong and powerful. She was wearing a short little denim skirt and a crop-top, revealing a jewelled pierced belly button. The skirt rose up her legs, as she clambered on top of me, and it was clear she wasn't wearing any underwear. I could see her soft, smooth, hairless snatch.
Without saying a word, she brought her hand to her mouth and pulled out both the chewing gum and a dental brace she was wearing on her top row of teeth. She casually dropped these items to the floor, then she wrapped her arms round my neck and kissed me. I responded the way I was trained to do so, and I kissed her back. Our tongues swirled together, as she rubbed her crotch against my thighs. I wrapped my arms round her and pulled her closer.
"How old are you?" I asked, our lips parting for a moment.
"Nineteen," she replied.
"You don't look it. You look like you're about fourteen."
"I get that a lot," she said, grinning, which only made her look even younger, "I do look like a kid, everyone says so, but I am legal. I swear on the grave of my dear departed mother, God strike me down if I'm lying. I've got ID in my purse, if you want to see it?"
"Maybe later," I said, before kissing her again.
Christian smiled and pulled his t-shirt over his head. Then he joined us on the bed. We'd spoken in the past about sexual fantasies and Chris being Chris - ie: a horny, teenage boy - his number one fantasy was a three-way, involving me, him and another girl. Not another guy, of course, that was never on the agenda. Another girl. It had been some simple, throwaway post-coital chit-chat, or so I had believed. It turns out, my son had decided to arrange this scenario for real.
Kendall was a piece of trailer-trash from the wrong side of town. But in many ways, she was a girl after my own heart. If I had been the crazy little nymphet when I was her age, she was the modern, 21st century version. Kendall had a reputation. Kendall was a slut. Just like me. I would later get the full story: Chris had fucked her a few times and knew she was fairly obliging. Then, he had discovered her not entirely unique domestic situation and realised she might be the ideal candidate for an evening just like this one.
So there I was, lying on the bed of this crappy hotel, with Kendall's face buried in my cunt. Holy Christ, she knew how to eat pussy. It's a bit of a cliche to suggest that only girls know how to lick other girls out, but Kendall was making a damn fine case for the prosecution. Chris was no slouch at cunnilingus but this kid put him to shame. I was jerking and twisting and shaking, as she munched away at my muff. Her fingers were stabbing inside me, as her teeth tugged at my clit with a feverish passion. I came again and again and again.
Within a few moments, we were all naked. Kendall and I were now 69-ing, and Chris was sat on a chair facing us, jerking himself off. I knew from plenty of personal experience that guys loved, loved, loved watching two women go at it with each other, and we certainly put on a hell of a show for him. My tongue slurped it's way round her vagina and ass, and hers did likewise.
I'm not gay. I'm not really even bisexual, but I certainly enjoyed fooling around with girls, back in my salad days. There was something different about being with a woman. Something about their femininity, their softness, their smoothness. Their delicate hands, their supple bodies. She was barely skin and bones, this kid, but her butt was surprisingly curvy, even if her boobs were little more than bee stings. She'd certainly have an interesting time going through an airport; she was covered in piercings. Her ears, her nose, her belly-button, her nipples, her clit.
Eventually, Chris decided he had waited long enough, and he wanted to get his dick wet. He clambered on to the bed and without any invitation, slammed his cock inside Kendall's snatch. I got a close-up view from beneath her body, watching his member spreading open her vaginal lips. I let my tongue trail across his meat as it slid in and out, in and out, in and out of her tight little hole. I lapped and slurped at her frothy juices as he fucked her. Then I sucked on his balls.
After a while, it all became a little too uncomfortable, so I pulled myself out from under this mass of naked, gyrating flesh. Chris withdrew for a moment, flipping Kendall round on to her back, then penetrating her once more. I bent over and kissed her, before sucking on her nipples for a while. My pussy felt a little neglected so I decided to ride her mouth instead. I swung my leg over and straddled her head. Within seconds I could feel her tongue burrowing into my twat, once more. I grabbed hold of the headboard and started grinding my crotch into her face.
By now, my skin was flushed and I could feel a sheen of fuck-sweat all over my body. Kendall grabbed hold of my buttocks, fondling them as she tongued my cunt. My thighs clamped tight around her, squeezing her like a vice. I could feel her ears and cheeks pressing against my skin. I twisted and pulled on my nipples mercilessly, enjoying the stinging pain, a counterpoint to the pleasure I was feeling between my legs.
Chris paused again, once more manipulating Kendall like she was a rag-doll. He turned on to her front and pulled her up to knees. Then he started fucking her doggy style on the bed. I slipped off the mattress and knelt behind him. His little brown hole winked at me suggestively, and I promptly buried my face in his ass. As I think I've already explained, Chris loved to be rimmed and I could only imagine the sensations Kendall was feeling, as his cock hardened and expanded inside her.
I took a moment to savour the view, once more admiring the musculature of his legs and ass, as he fucked the little tramp underneath him. I practically salivated as I watched his butt cheeks tense and pulse, glimpsing the little beads of sweat running down the back of his thighs. Then I resumed my oral assault on his anus.
I pushed my tongue forward as I stroked the back of his legs with my hands. I let my nails delicately trail across his skin, leaving white lines behind them. I savoured the musky, dirty, slightly sweet taste of his sweaty asshole, cupping his balls in my hand, as he pushed his body forward with furious intensity and desire.
My saliva dribbled down my chin, dropping to the sheets below. I reached down, my hand slipping between my legs, and I began to rub my clit. I frantically masturbated, while I ferociously devoured my little boy's shithole. I could feel his sphincter tighten and pulse as he orgasmed, shooting his baby-gravy inside Kendall's cunt.
Chris rolled over and lay down on his side, panting and gasping, his chest heaving through exertion. I leant forward and started lapping away at the young woman's sodden snatch. I could taste my son's spunk inside her and I sucked and slurped away at her glistening hole, trying to gobble up as much of it as I could. Then, once I had a good mouthful swilling away inside me, I crawled up the bed and bent over to share the creamy deposit with the little skank slut my son had just fucked. She opened her mouth readily and welcomed the deluge of fluid dribbling down between her lips. We kissed passionately, our tongues sharing the stringy, slimy emissions from Chris' cock.
I tenderly stroked her cheek, staring into her eyes, and kissing her sweetly. She smiled at me and licked my face.
"I wish you were my Mommy," she whispered.
"Me too, sweetheart, me too."
That was only the beginning of our evening's entertainment. One of the biggest perks of fucking a teenage boy is their extraordinary physical resilience. It took Chris only a matter of minutes to get hard again, and then we were away at the races. This time he fucked me, pounding away at my cunt, while Kendall sat on my face. She had one of the sweetest snatches I'd ever tasted.
Then he pulled me up, withdrew his cock, and then pushed it inside my anus. I gasped in pain, the only lubricant he was using was the juices from mine and Kendall's cunts, but I got used to it pretty quick. She scampered round in front of me and began to suckle on my breasts. She sucked on my nipples, while she fingered my twat.
She stared up at me and grinned, as her hand brutally attacked my gash. Her hair was soaked, strands of it clinging to her face. Her cheeks were bright red and she had an almost demented, maniacal look on her face.
"You're such a fucking whore, aren't you?!" She shouted at me, "letting your son fuck you in the ass?! Letting me finger-bang you?! Such a dirty fucking whore!"
"Yes! Yes, I'm a fucking whore!" I screamed back at her, flecks of spittle splashing onto her face, "I love being a whore for my little boy and his slutty girlfriend!"
She slapped my breast, making me yelp, and leaving a handprint on my tit.
"Do it again," I hissed, "harder."
She slapped my other breast, then squeezed my nipple as hard as she could. I winced in pain, but that didn't stop her. She brought her other hand, the one she'd been using to masturbate me, up to my mouth and stuffed her fingers between my lips. I could taste my tart arousal on her skin. She pushed forward and I gagged a little. Then she took her fingers out and spat on my face. I could feel her saliva rolling my cheek. She leaned forward, licked her saliva from my skin, and then spat at me once more, this time inside my open mouth. I swirled it round for a few seconds, before swallowing deeply.
She kissed me, as if she was somehow chasing down her own bodily fluids inside my throat. Then she returned her attentions to my cunt. She slipped one finger, then two, then three and then four into my snatch. Then she took her thumb and completed the set. She smiled a wicked grin, before pushing her whole hand inside my vagina.
I hadn't been fisted in more than twenty years, so this came as a bit of a shock, but she was such a petite, tiny little thing, her hand was pretty small. I mean, it felt fucking huge, but I could cope. And all the while, my son continued his relentless, remorseless pounding of my asshole. He had grabbed hold of my arms and had folded them behind my back, so I was completely exposed and completely at the mercy of this twisted twosome. This was the first time I'd been on the receiving end of any kind of double penetration in a long, long time, and frankly it felt fantastic.
So I just submitted to the sensations washing over me. I submitted to both the pleasure and the pain. Kendall flexed her fist inside me, Chris pushed his dick as far into my bowels as he could go. I practically blacked out, collapsing between the pair of them, simply a limp, unconscious fuck-toy, a collection of holes, only there to be filled and plundered and abused.
Chris came, shooting his semen into my guts, and I collapsed on to the bed. Kendall pulled out her hand, making a squelching popping sound as she did so. Then she lay down next to me and stroked my face tenderly, giving me dozens of little kisses, while she gently fondled my breasts.
"You're so beautiful, Mommy," she told me, quietly, "I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart," I replied, before falling into unconsciousness.
I woke up, maybe an hour or so later. Chris was flat out on the bed next to me, snoring away merrily. I could hear Kendall humming away to herself from the other side of the bathroom door. I slowly, gingerly, tried to get up. I was shattered. My body ached and I was covered in scratches, bruises and sticky patches. I stumbled towards the window and looked out at the darkness beyond.
I felt used...
I felt violated...
I felt fabulous...
I had forgotten what it was like to be fucked this way. Sure, Chris gave me a real workout every time we did it, but there was always something special about enjoying special time with multiple lovers. It could be awkward, it could be weird; but if you just went with it, went with the flow, it could be sex on a different level. Sex where all rational thought disappeared. Instead, it was all instinct, movement, feeling. Pure sensation.
The bathroom door opened and Kendall returned to the room. She saw me stood by the window and joined me. She had obviously had a shower and she was wearing a towel wrapped round her chest. The young woman rested her head on my shoulder.
"Are you okay, honey?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Mrs Ingham," she sighed in response.
"I don't think you have to call me Mrs Ingham anymore, sweetheart. I think any girl who's eaten my pussy as magnificently as you did, can afford to be a little less formal."
"You want me to call you Esther?" She inquired, not sounding terribly convinced by the idea.
"No, silly, you can call me Mommy, remember?"
"Really?" Her face lit up in excitement.
"Yes, of course, my little girl."
Kendall smiled the most incandescent smile I think I've ever seen on any face. It made her look like a little child, innocent and naive, tender and happy. I swore I could see her crying with joy.
"Thank you, Mommy," she sniffled.
"That's fine, honeybun."
I gave her a hug and she held me tightly.
"I really think I'm in love with you, you know," she whispered in my ear.
"Don't be silly, we've only just met. Even if you have eaten me out."
"No, it's true. I think I do love you. I really think so. You're so kind and beautiful and nice."
"Shhh, silly girl."
We stood in amiable silence for a moment. I wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing and she was wearing nothing but a towel.
"Kendall, if you don't mind me asking, you said your actual mom had passed?"
"Yeah, a long time ago. She was in a car crash when I was a little kid."
"Oh that's terrible, baby. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. I cried a lot. Sometimes I still do, but it was a long time ago now."
"So, it's just you and your dad?"
"And my older brother."
"And the three of you...?"
"Fuck?"
"Yeah, all the time. It's neat. I mean, sometimes Buddy's a bit of an asshole, but Daddy's nice. He's kinda fat, so he mostly just lays there and I do all the work. It's cool."
"And they didn't force you to do anything you didn't want to?"
"Oh no," she replied, pausing for a moment, "not now. I'm totally into it now."
"Okay, that's good," I said, sounding far from convinced.
"It was really nice going down on you, Mommy."
"Yes, it was lovely."
"I think I prefer girls, actually."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, I mean fucking guys is really, really cool and everything, and Chris has got a monster cock, but I enjoy playing with girls more."
"Yeah, it's fun."
"Do you think...well...do you think I could...you know...?"
"What, baby?"
"Do you think I could go down on you again? Chris is asleep, so if we're quiet, we can have some fun together, just you and me. I won't fist you this time. I got a little crazy back there."
"Ok, baby, sure."
So, that's what we did. I sat down on the room's only armchair and spread my legs wide apart. Kendall took off her towel, studiously folded it into quarters and placed it neatly on the floor in front of me. Then she knelt down on top of it and buried her face in my pussy. I stroked her hair and told her I loved her and I was so proud of her.
She made me cum half a dozen times or more, before we decided we had to wake up my son and call a halt to the evening's proceedings. When Esther left, she gave me another tongue-twisting kiss and a bone-crushing hug, before skipping out of the room, singing what I think was a Taylor Swift song to herself.
6
Chris was pushing me to the edge of sanity with little stunts like this. He had a wild appetite and he wanted to test my limits. But the truth is I wanted those limits to be tested. It's not like I was some innocent passenger on this journey we were taking together. I was a slut. I was his slut, and it was glorious. Terrifying, sickening, disturbing...but glorious.
When I was younger, the experience that forced me to confront my behaviour, my insane lifestyle, was a particularly brutal gang-bang involving my college football team. I had told my son about this; he loved me telling him crazy stories from when I was his age. I would jerk him off while I did so. He loved me going into the filthiest possible detail about how many cocks I had sucked, how many asses I had eaten, how many cunts I had fisted.
He particularly enjoyed tales of my debauchery with multiple partners. But I was beginning to realise that he saw those stories as an inspiration for some debauchery of his own.
One Saturday afternoon I had driven Artie to his mother's house, with Calvin and Ava in the back seat of the car. Grandma loved seeing the two little munchkins, and I persuaded my husband that he should spend some time with all of them. I came up with some story about how I needed to go home and do some errands, but the reality was I was trying to carve out some alone time with my eldest boy.
It turned out Chris had plans of his own.
I got back home and saw a couple of unfamiliar cars parked out in front of my house. My curiosity piqued, I let myself in and wandered over to the living room. As so often was the case these days, what met me was a shocking sight. Chris and four other young men, were all stripped naked, lazing around on the chairs and couch; and all five of them were masturbating. I assumed my usual position, standing there dumbfounded, my mouth wide open, staring on in disbelief.
"Chris," I stammered, "what the hell is going on?"
"Hey, Mom!" He replied, breezily, mid-stroke.
I couldn't say another word, for the longest of time I just stared at them. The other men barely acknowledged my presence, they all just continued squeezing and stroking their cocks.
"Can I...uh...can I have a word with you?" I finally managed to blurt out.
"Sure thing, Mom."
He bounced up on to his feet and strolled over to me, his erect dick bobbing away in front of him. He joined me in the hallway.
"What the fuck is going on?" I hissed at him.
"Oh, it's just some of the boys, they wanted to come over and hang out."
"Hang out? They are literally hanging out, playing with themselves."
"Yeah, I suppose they are," he chuckled, "they were just waiting for you."
"Me?"
"I told them you would show them a good time."
"I would show them..." I spluttered incoherently, "are you out of your fucking mind?"
"You don't mind, do you?"
"Of course I fucking mind! I don't know any of these guys."
"You do, actually. One of them is Mike Buck. He and I have been friends for a long time. You've known him since he was a kid."
"And you told him, and these other dudes, to come on over and ball your mother? Are you out of your Goddamn mind? What about keeping us a secret?"
"Oh don't worry, they've all promised to keep quiet. They don't want to cause any trouble. Bros before hoes, that sort of thing. They're on their honour not to tell."
"That makes me the hoe, does it?"
He lifted his hands up to my face and cupped my cheeks, caressing my soft skin in the most gentle and loving way possible.
"You're my little slut, aren't you, Mommy? You'll do whatever I tell you, won't you?"
I didn't reply. I just looked at him. He was right. I was his little slut. That was the way it was ever since this torrid madness began. I had submitted to my son completely, and if that meant sucking and fucking his friends, so be it.
"Yes, I'll do whatever you tell me," I whispered.
Good girl," he leant forward and kissed me softly on the lips, "now go and make yourself look pretty for the guys. We'll be waiting for you."
He bounded off, dick still hard, and I stood there for a moment. My cunt was sopping wet, so my body knew what I wanted to do, even if my brain hadn't entirely bought into the idea. I waited for a second or two, then headed to my bedroom. I stripped entirely naked and then pulled on a pair of stockings and applied some makeup. I didn't see any reason to put on clothes that would only be torn from my body a few minutes later. Finally, I slipped into a pair of black stilettos and walked back into the living room.
I received some catcalls and wolf-whistles as they saw my naked body. I barely acknowledged their presence; I moved like a zombie, not thinking, not caring, just determined to be the best possible lay I could be.
"Which one of you horny little fuckers is Mike?" I asked.
"That's me ma'am," one of the guys replied, raising his hand, or at least raising the hand that wasn't jerking his cock.
"Oh yeah, I remember you," I said, peering down at him, "how old were you when you first came visiting?"
"I dunno, ma'am, maybe nine or ten?"
"You were a scrawny little thing, weren't you? Not so scrawny now, are you?"
"No, I had a bit of a growth spurt in my late teens. I'm a big boy now."
"You sure are, honey. Now tell me, when you were nine or ten, did you ever imagine you'd get to stick your dick in me?"
"No, ma'am, it never crossed my mind."
"Well, it must be your lucky day, then."
With that, I dropped to my knees and started sucking his cock. He wasn't as well endowed as Chris, but he had nothing to be ashamed of. His prick was long and slim, and tasted delicious. He groaned the moment I wrapped my lips round the head of his meat, my tongue teasing and tickling his piss-hole. I let my jaw go slack and started bobbing my head up and down.
Behind me, I could feel another body getting into position, and then I felt a dick slide tightly inside my cunt. I had no idea who it was - it didn't feel like Chris' penis - but I didn't really care. Like always, I just wanted to be ravished, abused, violated; who was doing the ravishing, abusing or violating didn't much matter.
For the next three hours I just got wrecked. Totally destroyed. These five, fit young men used me like a piece of meat, passing me around like a toy. They filled me airtight again and again and again. I don't know if any one of them had even considered contraception, but they all fucked me bareback. Even though I was on the pill, I still got hold of some emergency contraception the next morning. Just to be safe.
I hadn't been gang-banged in more than twenty years and boy had I missed it. It's daunting, it's physically gruelling, but it's so, so, so fucking hot. Five young men, horny as fuck, with their shared objective, sticking their cocks inside my body. They took turns to DP me on the couch, an endless variety of pricks in my ass and my pussy. A couple of times I managed to tend to all five of them at once; a cock in both my front and back door, one in my mouth, and my hands jerking off whoever was left.
I came again and again, and so did they. I drank their spunk down by the bucket load, gallons of the stuff sloshing around inside my belly, my cunt and my anus. Then the five of them stood in a circle, masturbating, with me kneeling on the floor. My face was thrown back and my mouth was wide open, with my tongue stretching out in anticipation. Eventually they sprayed their cum all over me, glazing my cheeks and lips and forehead; ribbons of it dribbling down my skin and dripping onto my tits.
Oh fuck it was incredible.
Chris's four friends got dressed and left, and I lay there on the floor, slipping in and out of consciousness. He came back in, lifted me up and took me to the bathroom. He showered me, dried me down and put me to bed. Then he lay next to me, caressing my cheek and telling me he loved me.
"I'll go pick up Dad and the kids," he whispered, "I'll tell them you were feeling unwell."
"Ok, baby," I replied.
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, sweetheart."
He turned out the lights and closed the door. I fell fast asleep, my body aching and throbbing, my soul joyful and at peace.
7
Reading these words back, this often sounds like a story of humiliation and abuse. In a way it is, but it is also a story of love and devotion. I love my son. Truly love him in a way I never have with anyone else. I can't imagine a life without him, without him as my son or as my lover. He excites me. He frightens me. But he captivates me. I have given myself to him fully and completely. I wouldn't want it any other way.
A lot of the time the sex is brutal. Nasty. Hardcore. I like it that way. I like being fucked hard. I like being hurt. I am, after all, a slut. A soccer mom slut, if you prefer. But there are other times when our lovemaking can be tender and sweet. Romantic, or at least as romantic as incest can ever be.
I find myself standing at the foot of his bed. He is sat there, wearing only his boxer shorts. I'm wearing a short, flowery, summery dress. I'm fresh out of the shower and my hair is down, still damp and a little knotted. I'm not wearing any underwear. We're holding hands and staring into each other's eyes.
"How many times did I tuck you up in this bed, I wonder?"
"Gee, I dunno, it must have been a lot. I always preferred it when it was you who did it. Rather than Dad."
"Really? Why?"
"Cos I love you more."
"Thank you, my darling."
"I loved the way you smelled, the way you brushed your hair out of your face, when you were reading me a bedtime story. The taste of your lips when you kissed me good night."
"And I remember your big blue eyes, your eyelids fluttering as you struggled to stay awake. The earnest, serious way you always believed every story was true."
"Look at us now."
"Yes, look at us now."
He lifts his hand under my skirt, slowly stroking my inner thigh. It tickles and I giggle a little. He laughs along with me. Then he cups my vulva. I brush my hand through his hair. He pulls down his shorts, and his dick springs out like a wind-up toy. I climb on top of him, holding his cock in my hand, lining him up with my cunt. With a satisfying sigh, I impale myself on his prick.
Slowly, surely, he unbuttons the front of my dress, seeking out my breasts. He finds a nipple and sucks on it tenderly.
"Will these get bigger when you're pregnant?" He asks.
"My tits? Oh yeah, they'll get a lot bigger. They certainly did every other time."
"Good."
I stopped taking the pill a couple of days earlier. I don't think I'll be especially fertile yet, but who knows. I may not be fertile at all at my age, but we'll find out soon enough. We've been talking about trying for a baby for a while now. It's completely nuts. Artie had a vasectomy before Ava was born, so God knows how I'll explain it. But Chris wants to get his Mommy pregnant. He wants to breed me. He wants to put a baby inside me. His baby. As always, I do what I'm told.
He falls backwards on to the bed and I ride him like a horse. He holds my breasts in his hands, squeezing and fondling them with an almost childish enthusiasm, which is ironic when you bear in mind he is my child. My child, my son, my lover, my man,
He has turned my life upside down and I have welcomed it. Soon enough, if nature does its thing, the chaos will become keener and even more intense. I don't care. I want him. I love him. I will do anything for him, even if it means destroying my family. I can't live without him. I can't live without his cock. Pretty soon, if all goes to plan, a price will have to be paid. The consequences are coming. The future is coming like the freezing cold winds whipping along the plains of Kansas.
Let them come.
The End