Incest (And Other Crimes)

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I didn't answer. I didn't have anything to say. I walked into my room and shut the door.

When I went downstairs in the morning, the kitchen was empty. Heard stirrings in the basement, and knew the prick was getting ready for work. I left and drove to school, cut most of my classes, spent much of the day in the library. I was feeling ashamed for what I had proposed; depressed that she rejected me. But between my bouts of confusion and regret and self-pity, I concocted the seeds of a plan to free mom, and me, from the misery and desperation that clouded our household. A plan, I was sure, from which the old man would not survive.

I came home late, very late. The house was dark and quiet. Upstairs, light filtered from under her door. I knocked softly. She opened the door, looked luminous in a long, sheer, pink and white nightie. Her eyes were bright, a sparkle that was missing the night before.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

She nodded. "I checked in your room today. You forgot your phone."

"I know. Dumb. Wasn't thinking too straight."

She scolded, gently. "You could have found a phone and called me. I was worried."

"I thought about you all day," I said. "Does that count?"

"A little." She smiled. "A lot." She hooked a finger in my sleeve. "Come in. I have some things I have to tell you."

"Mom, can I shower first and change? I feel grubby."

She released my sleeve and smiled. "By the way, Chet came by and picked up your father. They're flying to Cleveland to work on another one of their schemes."

"Good," I said, walking down the hall. "Let's change the locks."

I heard her laugh. I turned briefly and caught mom standing in her doorway, her nightgown silhouetted by the light from her bedroom. "Mmmmm... black panties," I thought.

I showered quickly, changed into pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, walked downstairs to the kitchen and fixed two wine coolers, and carried them up to mom's room. The door was open, so I walked in, found her sitting primly on the side of the bed.

I handed her a glass. "Think I can get you drunk tonight?" I asked.

"Definitely not!" she said with a laugh. She glanced down at her nightgown, said self-consciously, "I didn't realize this nightgown was so... transparent."

"Didn't notice," I said. But of course I did. Even though she had her arms folded folded across her chest, my radar detected the dark pink of a nipple.

Mom took a sip from her drink, then placed the glass on her table. I sat on the bed, she tucked a leg underneath her and faced me.

"I love you. I don't ever want to lose what we have between us. I know what we're both thinking, and it is wrong. We're talking about incest, about crossing a line that should never be crossed. If we did, we could never undo it, never ever be the same, nothing would ever be the same."

I listened with sinking heart. She was right, of course. But, for me, right didn't matter. I didn't say anything. She pressed her hands to her face, covering her mouth. I thought she was going to cry.

Her voice trembled. "Everything would change, Matt. And God forgive me, I'll burn in hell, I want it!! I want it so desperately. I want the feelings to go away, but I know they won't and I don't want them to... deep in my heart... deep down here..." She pressed a hand between her legs... "I want what we can give each other... I don't want to say no to you."

She covered her face with her hands again and, voice shaking, said, "Will you say something!"

I couldn't say anything. I could have fallen off the bed. Did she really say what I think I heard her say? Now I was shaking. I stared into her eyes, started to say something, knew it would be inadequate.

"Hello?" she laughed. She took my face between her hands. "Surprised?"

"Happy," I said. "Relieved... excited." I shook my head. "I don't know what to say..."

"Tell me you love me," she whispered.

"I love you mom... I love you Lynn..." Those last four words were pure magic, to my ears and to hers.

We sat there, staring goofily at each other. We kissed, I stroked her cheek, her hair. I let a hand brush her breast, feeling a taut nipple. She gasped.

"Not tonight, maybe not anytime soon." She smiled, taking my hand. "Well, maybe sooner than that. When we're ready, when I'm ready... as it develops."

"It's not just about sex," I said. "But in a way it's all about sex." She nodded. "We'll cross that line and when we do it will be incredible," I continued. "And we'll know it's right... right for us."

"Be patient?" she asked.

"I will. You be patient too."

DAY TEN

I didn't sleep last night either. Thoughts and emotions swirled and crashed in my head. Is this right? Am I manipulating her? Is she too vulnerable to think clearly? Why the change of heart? Did something happen that I'm not aware of? Will she change her mind? Can she handle this? Can I handle this?

I'm downstairs as dawn breaks, fixing coffee and cereal. Mom comes down an hour later, wearing an old pair of pajama bottoms and a bulky sweatshirt. She curls and arm around my shoulders and I pull her onto my lap. We kiss, and it seems as though the weight of the world is lifted from us. The tension is gone and we trade rapid fire kisses. We nuzzle each other, hug, then start kissing again. I love the feel of her bottom on my lap; I love the new sensations I discover as I caress her back, her legs, her tummy. I know she is excited too. It feels like nothing we have ever experienced before.

I didn't have to ask if she had second thoughts. She knew she didn't have to ask me. We had crossed the next line with no thoughts of turning back.

DAYS ELEVEN thru FOURTEEN

We cuddled every evening, in my room, her room, the living room, wherever we felt comfortable. We got bolder in our explorations; I massage her breast, run a hand inside her thigh, brushing her panties. Seems my cock is perpetually hard now and carves a hard-to-ignore outline through my pajamas. Rather than ignoring or avoiding its presence, she's begun to trace its length with her finger, teasing, getting acquainted.

The prick came home at some point and, as usual, burrowed into his cave. We ignore him. On Monday, mom came downstairs in a too-short t-shirt and white cotton bikini panties. We stretched out on the couch, spooning, her t-shirt hiked above her hips. I could see the darkness of her pussy hair and the swell of her pubic mound. We were oblivious to the fact that the prick might come upstairs for supplies. I caressed her pussy through the cotton panties, working a finger through her swollen lips until I found her clit, and then massaged it as she groaned and quivered. Her juices soaked the panties.

We started to talk dirty and that intensified our desires. But still we held back. Tuesday night, in my room, I caught her in an awkward, accidental pose, legs spread and pink panties stretched tight across her mound. I pressed my mouth there, kissed and breathed in the wonderful musky aroma of her cunt. She groaned and rocked her hips; I pressed harder, lips and teeth working at her clit. She shuddered, said "Oh fuck" and stilled.

My cock was erect and throbbing, ballooning a tent in the front of my pajamas. She leaned over and kissed the outline, nibbled along the shaft, found the cockhead and nibbled at that. I was done. My hips bucked and I shot stream after stream of cum into my briefs. "Oh my baby," she said. "I'm sorry... let me clean that up for you." She lowered my pajamas and shorts, and licked the cum off my cock, off my thighs, off my cum-coated patch of pubic hair. She flipped my briefs inside out and sucked the jizz off the fabric. When she was done, when I was cleaned, she looked up at me with a beautiful smile, her lips glistening with the last remnants of my cum dump. "So yummy," she murmured.

We closed and locked the bedroom door and fell asleep.

DAY FIFTEEN

Wednesday night. The prick never came home. In mom's bed that night, we fucked!

++++++++++++++++++++

Coming in Chapter 2: You'll find out why "the prick" is a prick; my plan to "eliminate" him begins to take shape. Meanwhile, Mom and I grow more comfortable and uninhibited in our relationship. And it seems Pat might want a piece of the action!

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13 Comments
cricketxcricketxover 6 years ago
Best ever!

Wow! I like your style! Favorite author and 5 stars!

chytownchytownalmost 8 years ago
Unfinished**

A good start.

curiouz2curiouz2almost 9 years ago
where's part II?

great reading....where's part II?

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
Fuck her right

The son is doing the "good son's deed" taking care of Mom. Those without experience or skills cannot understand how good it is to really "hammer" that special person.............trying to kill her with your cock. Excellent writing.

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
Matt's a very lucky boy

He does what lots and lots of boys'd love to do. Matt sticks his hard young cock up the wonderful hairy hole between his mother's legs, the same hole he came out of. For plenty of boys, that's exactly where their young cock belongs, where it's warm and cozy and protected and loved, just like they were for nine months. There's another very lucky lad, badmommy's son. She can't wait for him to come home, she'll meet him not with open arms but with widespread legs. This loving mother knows that for a boy nothing can ever compare with having the best party of his life up his own mother's cunt. He never has to jerk it or make do with inferior cunts. Mom has the perfect receptacle for every drop of semen he's got in his hot young balls. It's his own mother's warm wet ever-loving twat.

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