A Mother & Son Story Ch. 02

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

Leaning back against the bedroom door in her silky, white robe, Missy's mind screamed along a rollercoaster track of thoughts about what she'd just done.

How did that happen? Why did it? She asked herself over and over, even though she knew. She just didn't want to admit...

It'd started with him demanding that she give him a hand-job or else he'd show his father -- her husband -- a video that could ruin her marriage. Somehow her concession to his first demand ended up with her sucking his cock until she swallowed his load. And not just in a way that would appease him. No, she'd eagerly taken him into her mouth . . . wantonly slid her lips onto his thick shaft with a deep-seated hunger that she hadn't experienced in years. Pumping her lips along his manhood, she'd shamelessly sucked and licked it . . . feverishly tugged at its base . . . urged him to cum for her.

Stunned by her actions . . . ashamed of her behavior . . . she lifted the rocks glass and drained the last of the whiskey from it. The feel of the glass against her lips reminded her of his cock sliding along them . . . caressing the tiny nerve-endings.

"Oh shit," she breathed, her hand dropping to her side. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself, to quite her jangling nerves and silence the shame coursing through her.

But she couldn't.

She kept thinking about it.

About it all.

Not just what she'd done, but how she'd longed to do it . . . yearned to. The sight of his manhood's obvious outline in his shorts had tempted her and she'd easily given into his first demand. The feel of his rigid cock in her grasp . . . her hand sliding up and down it, had made her flesh simmer . . . had awoken the desire to take him into her mouth. She'd tried to fight it, even offered some resistance when he'd urged her to get on her knees before him. But the resistance was minimal and she'd soon done as he wanted, kneeling before him, her hand continuing to pump up and down, her eyes staring at his cock . . . its flesh shimmering with the precum she'd worked onto it. The desire had grown into a need . . . a hunger. And with each passing second . . . each stroke of her hand, it had grown, making her want to do it . . . want to be naughty and take her son's cock into her mouth. Then he'd used his hands to push her toward him. Again, she'd resisted . . . at first. But when he'd told her to do it . . . told her to suck his cock, she could no longer deny him . . . or herself. His words . . . their obscenity . . . had fed the hunger and she'd slid her lips onto him . . . pumped them along his rigid shaft . . . sucked on him like a wanton tramp. And she'd loved it. She'd reveled in the sensation . . . relished sucking her own son's cock. It was so wrong . . . so inappropriate . . . so naughty. But it'd felt so good, feeding the lust that been awoken during her shower . . . making her body pulse with it. Her sex had grown wet with her juices and her breasts had ached to be touched, an ache she'd answered by pressing herself against his leg . . . brazenly rubbing her tit against it.

"Shit. Shit," she cursed, closing her eyes and trying to push the memory away. But it wouldn't be discarded, the arousal still pulsing through her body keeping it fresh. Realizing she could still taste him, she decided she needed to brush her teeth, desperately hoping the completely normal act would somehow help. But to do that she'd have to leave her room and go to the master suite, which meant she might run into Jason. "Shit!"

While Missy was dealing with these things, Jason sat on the couch, reveling in the memory of his mother's blow-job. He still couldn't quite believe it'd happened, that he'd gotten her to do it or that it'd been so damn amazing. He was also upset with himself for failing to take it to the next level, and was trying to figure out how he might still do it.

He knew she was upset and probably embarrassed. There was also a good chance she was feeling ashamed. The first two emotions he could work with easy enough, but the last one would be more difficult. No matter what her emotional state, he'd need to tread carefully. Be delicate in his approach. He couldn't use blackmail again. No, that card had been played. So he'd have to actually seduce her.

But how? He asked himself.

Getting girls his own age to fuck was fairly simple since they were usually as horny as guys and looking to do something about it. He figured that older women took more finesse, especially married ones. And getting his own mother to would take that to a whole other level.

He could wait until the next day, give her some time to process things. But that probably wasn't the best plan. Not only would it give her time to construct some kind of defense, it'd also lose the main advantage he currently had; the fact that she was horny right now. He didn't want to risk losing that key advantage, give her time to settle down or possibly relieve her need.

Hell, she might be back there masturbating right now, he thought. No. Not yet, she's not. She might do that shortly, but not yet. Right now she's dealin' with her emotions.

So, he still had a window. He just needed to take advantage of it. Still, he couldn't go barging into her room just yet. He needed to give her a little time to calm down first, then try to get close to her so he could...

His earlier strategy had worked, so he decided to give her a chance to consume more alcohol. For her to do that, she'd have to leave her room for the kitchen. Figuring that wasn't going to happen as long as he was in the main part of the house, he grabbed his laptop and headed to his room, walking down the hall and past her room as casually as he could. In his room he made a point of closing the door loudly, hoping she'd hear it. Counting to ten, he quietly pulled it open just enough to peek out into the hall just in time to see her disappearing into his grandparents' room.

Missy had no idea how long she'd been standing there when she heard the door to Jason's room close. But when she did, she immediately spun on her heels and exited the bedroom, fearing if she waited he might come back out. Making a bee-line for the master suite, she passed the laundry room and remembered the clothes in the dryer. She briefly thought about needing to take care of them, but decided she had more pressing issues to deal with first.

While she brushed her teeth, she saw in the mirror just how disheveled the robe had become. Against her wishes she remembered Jason's eyes gazing down at the garment's opening and her breasts quivering with her body's motion during their incestuous act. This stirred the warmth within her and after rinsing, she fretfully straightened the robe, retying the sash to hold it closed as well as it could. She also saw that her ponytail had come loose, reminding her of his hand holding it, his other hand cupping the back of her head . . . the two of them holding her still as he'd fucked her mouth toward the end . . . just before he'd... Wrenching the squeezy from her hair, she frantically ran a brush through it so her long brunette tresses cascaded down her back, shimmering in the room's lighting.

Deciding she needed another drink, she exiting the bathroom and grabbed her glass from where she'd set it on the dresser. Hurriedly making her way to the kitchen, she dumped out the melted ice and replaced it with fresh cubes.

"Fuck," she exhaled, suddenly realizing how much alcohol she'd already consumed as she poured whiskey over the ice. That must have had something to do with what had happened. Her willingness to give into his demands . . . her eagerness to comply . . . her body's response. The alcohol had hindered her thinking, hampered her judgement. "Ok, now what?"

The damage is done... there's no turning back time. She told herself. I'll just have to deal with it. But not tonight. Tonight I just need to sleep.

Deciding she'd likely need a couple more drinks to get there, she took the bottle back to her room with her.

Continuing to peek out his door, Jason saw his mother exit the master suite and head down the hall to the main portion of the house, her glass in hand. He had to force himself to stay put and not sneak out to spy on her. A few minutes later he watched her return to her room with the bottle of whiskey.

"Ok, now just wait a little while," he told himself as he quietly closed his door.

Once back in her room, Missy pushed the bed's covers aside and propped the pillows up so she could sit up with her legs folded to one side, one on top the other, her knees slightly bent. Bathed in the limited illumination offered by the lamp on the nightstand she tried forgetting about the evening's events. But her mind wouldn't allow her to. It kept turning them over and over, reminding her of what she'd done and before she knew it, her glass was in need of a refill.

She couldn't believe what she'd done, or how her body had reacted; the warmth . . . the hunger . . . the ache. She thought the fact that it'd been Jason -- her own son -- would've kept those things at bay . . . allowed her to perform the one act without becoming aroused. Or at least dampened it during the second act. But, no. It hadn't hindered her arousal one iota. In fact, it'd heightened it so that, even now so long afterwards, her body was continuing to pulse with desire . . . so much so that her free hand was absently brushing at her breasts through the robe and she was pressing her legs together in response to the ache within her sex.

"Shit!" She exhaled, jerking her hand away and forcing her legs to relax.

Still, it'd felt good and she briefly considered masturbating. But she quickly discarded the idea as the memory of Jason's cock rose in her mind again, making her fear what she might think about if she did.

No, all you need is to get to sleep, she told herself, lifting the glass to her lips.

She was just pulling it away when a knock sounded on the door, making her jump a little.

"Mom?" Jason quietly called. "Are you alright?"

"I'm... I'm fine, Honey," she answered, forcing her voice to remain steady, hoping he'd leave her alone.

"Mom, listen, I really think we need to talk." Standing outside her room, Jason fought the urge to simply walk in. He wasn't sure if he could get her to let him in, or -- if once he did -- he could get to fuck her, but he did know walking in uninvited would dramatically reduce his chances.

"Not tonight, Honey. In the morning." Missy nervously stared at the door, silently commanding him to go away.

"I think it'd be a mistake to wait," he said, keeping his tone sympathetic so he could press her for access without actually sounding like he was.

"Honey, really--."

"Just for a minute, Mom," he interrupted her before she could tell him to leave her alone and adding a bit of weight to his voice. "I just need to talk."

Missy took a deep breath. Hearing the angst in his voice awoke her maternal instincts, made her want to help him. Taking another sip of the whiskey, she tried to decide what to do, struggled with wanting to help him and not wanting to see him at the moment.

"Mom?"

Oh God, he sounds so hurt, she told herself, taking yet another sip. A part of her questioned if it was authentic pain she was hearing in his voice, but her instincts over-road the doubt and she decided to let him in. "Ok. Come in."

Opening the door and walking into the room, Jason concentrated on keeping his expression neutral. It wasn't easy though. The sight of her caused his breath to catch and his cock to twitch within his shorts.

Sitting up in the bed, her legs folded to one side, her one hand held the robe closed, making the silky material strain over her ample breasts and helping to define the blue bra underneath. She'd taken her hair out of the ponytail and it shimmered radiantly as it cascaded over her shoulders and framed her face. Again, he was struck by her beauty and amazed at how he'd failed to notice it, and how deep her eyes were, all these years.

Walking over to the bed, he took a seat on its edge near her, his mind reveling with the image of her. Her thighs were so close, striking out from under the robe's hem. Her breasts rose and fell delicately with her breaths under its taut material, tempting him to stare . . . to gaze at them longingly. Her soft features struggled between arousal and concern, her deep brown eyes smoldering with the mixed emotions.

His proximity made Missy's body tingle and her sex to quiver. As she unconsciously pressed her legs together in response to this she had to fight a sudden urge to look at his crotch, the memory of what was there filling her mind.

What the hell is wrong with me? She silently asked herself.

"How are you doin'?" He asked while casually reaching out to rest a hand on her thigh a couple inches below the robe's hem.

"I'm... I'm a little upset," she managed to breath, the heat from his palm against her flesh making it sizzle and her heart unexpectedly race.

"Well, I... um... I wanted to apologize." Under the guise of embarrassment, he broke eye contact and let his gaze drop to admire her thigh, its warm flesh appearing from under the robe with just a tease of her asscheek. "I know I shouldn't have..."

"It's ok, Honey," she told him, instinctively wanting to help him forgive himself. The continued feel of his hand was fueling the warmth flowing through her, making her self-conscious, and she held her breath, hoping that'd be the end of it and he'd leave.

"I just couldn't help myself. You were just so beautiful..." Hardly able to believe what he was trying to do, knowing it could go wrong in so many ways, Jason fell silent for a moment. Taking a couple deep breaths, he tried to calm his own nerves as he desperately hoped it would work and lifted his eyes again. "Kneeling there... jerking me off... staring at my cock."

"Honey..." She gasped, surprised by his words . . . their audacity . . . their imagery.

"I also wanted to let you know...," he started, then paused, needing to take another breath. "I know you got excited doin' those things."

"Jason, that's not--." He continued to surprise her. She didn't know what she'd expected him to say, but these things were not it, and she was having difficulty thinking how to respond.

"It's ok," he interrupted her, his hand sliding an inch higher on her thigh. "I understand. It was like in that video... when you sucked Frank's cock. You like it. You like bein' naughty."

Missy stared at him in shock, unable to believe he would say such things to her . . . now. It hadn't earlier, in the heat of the moment. But now . . . when it was passed and he was supposedly seeking solace...

Or is he?! The thought steamrolled through her, bringing with it a sudden suspicion that he might have an ulterior motive for wanting to talk . . . for being there. And again she had to fight an urge to look at his crotch, to see if he was... No. He couldn't be thinking...

"It turns you on, doin' those things." He continued, her silence giving him both hope and the courage to slide his hand slightly higher on her thigh, bringing his fingertips to within centimeters of the robe's hem. "It makes you horny bein' dirty. It makes you wet."

"Jason--," she breathed, wanting to disavow his claims, wanting to deny them even to herself. His hand's movement upon her thigh caused her flesh to quiver . . . turned the flowing warmth into tropical breezes, and she unconsciously let her leg slip partially off the other.

"You enjoyed it," he interrupted her. Sensing her leg shift, he wanted to slide his hand under the robe, but forced it to remain where it was. But he did tense his fingers, giving her leg a gentle squeeze. "You enjoyed playin' with my cock... suckin' it."

"It was wrong," she breathed, her heart pounding within her chest, his words fanning the heat simmering within her loins. In support of her declaration -- and now believing he did indeed have an ulterior motive -- she released her hold on the robe to bring her hand down atop his, her fingers gently gripping with the intention of keeping it from progressing any higher.

"No, it wasn't. It wasn't wrong. And you know it," he told her, his gaze briefly dropping to admire the hint of cleavage where the robe fell open slightly. He'd figured this would be the biggest barrier to his ultimate goal, the taboo associated with what they'd done -- what he wanted to do -- and knew he'd have to convince her it was alright. Raising his eyes back to hers he gazed into them for a moment. "It was beautiful. And how can anything that beautiful be wrong?"

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but you need to stop." She forced herself to declare, although she couldn't be certain if she truly meant it. Despite what society said about such things -- or perhaps because of that -- it had been exciting . . . wonderful . . . sensual.

So was it really wrong? She asked herself before glancing down at her nearly empty glass. Or is that the alcohol talking?

"Who cares what society says," he continued, his hand continuing to tense, gently squeezing her thigh. "What matters is what's between us. Our relationship... our love."

Oh God, he is! He wants to...! The idea ricocheted through her, adding steam to the tropical breezes and causing her to unconsciously slide her leg completely off the other and let it stretch out, allowing his hand to slip onto her inner thigh. The feel of it caused her breath to catch and her embers to sizzle and snap excitedly within her loins.

"And it doesn't seem fair that I'm satisfied, but you aren't." He told her, his hand tensing. He knew this was a shoddy approach, but he recognized her body's actions and saw the resolve weakening in her eyes and figured he had to say something.

"Honey..." Finding his inept attempt cute, she almost smiled. It let her know that, while he might have been aggressive in the living room and was trying to be so in his current attempt to seduce her, he was still only eighteen and inexperienced.

He's also your son, she told herself, trying to squelch the building ache of her body . . . the need pulsing through her. He was right of course. She was horny . . . in need of relief. Hell, she'd been thinking about masturbating just moments earlier and her arousal had only intensified since then. Still, that doesn't mean I should... That we should...

"It's ok. It really is. I've thought this through," he softly assured her. The fact that she hadn't pushed him away continued to give him hope, but he figured she was still worried about him and how he might be affected by this. He wanted her to know she needn't be, that he was alright with it. Afterall, he was the one initiating it. Reaching out with his free hand, he caressed her cheek then gently cupped it and forced her to hold his gaze. Using the motion to lean forward slightly, he slid his hand a little further up her thigh, his fingertips coming to the robe's edge.

No. No-no-no. It's not right. It just isn't. She told herself, trying to convince herself . . . trying to override the heat coursing through her. She told herself she should stop this, end it before it was too late . . . push his hand away.

But she didn't.

She couldn't.

Her body wouldn't allow it.

Staring into his eyes, she saw them gleaming with the same kind of hunger that was pulsing through her own body. The proximity of his hand made her sex quiver and she reflexively slid her leg away from the other, spreading herself open ever so slightly and allowing his fingertips to disappear under the robe.

"Jason... Honey... We shouldn't..." She sighed, her heart racing, her nerves tingling.

"I think we should," he whispered. Deciding it was time to make her push him away if she was going to, he slid his hand higher up her thigh and stretched his fingers out, brushed them across her panties. He'd been right. She was wet, the soft material was damp with her juices.