The Sounds Of Incest

"Jeffy", I say to deflect what I had resolved last night to avoid, a consanguine coupling with my kid, "why don't you go and take your shower now?"

He says in my ear, half serious, I can tell, "Want to join me?"
"JEFFY!" I turned a mistake because this puts my pussy and his peter in close proximity, brushing up against one another. His arms go to my back in a tender hug. "I'm . .I'm your mother, you . . shouldn't think about me that way." ('You're one to talk!" pipes up the naughty girl in my head).

"Too tempting – aay mom?" He teases, pushing toward me with his hips and I feel his hard-on against my mons. Little does he know, or does he suspect? Or does he know??

"If I was to take you up on your offer – I don't think you could handle it. I'd eat you up!!" I try bombast to make a joke, and laugh.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" he tosses back at me and then to my surprise and delight – but I dare not show it – he gives me a huge kiss, right on the lips. It last longer that it should, but I am loving it so much that I let it linger, until he tries a bit of tongue.

At that, my maternal instinct makes a weak return to some semblance of sanity and I break it off and gently push him away with a tap on his chest. "Fresh! You're asking for a paddling on your behind, mister!"

"Well, okay, but I could handle you if you took up my invitation; in fact, I would love to handle you all over." Before I can express my shock, or say 'I know you would' and follow him; he turns and quickly exits. As soon as I hear his door close, I dash to my bedroom and throw myself on the bed, tummy down. I pull my diaphanous shift above my hips and thrust my fingers into my soaking, burning pussy. I stroke the clit furiously and my climax rises like a skyrocket and I am about to burst into a spectacular explosion, when the sound of my door opening penetrates my dim awareness.

I say, "OH! JEFFY!" both as I was thinking about him penetrating me with his big cock and as a protest that I have been caught in such a compromising position. He can see everything, I mean everything; cunt, anus, mommy's orgasm as the clutching nether lips flutter and the asshole contracts, my gasps and groans at the spasms which are racking my body.

"Jeez! I'm sorry mom . . . I didn't mean to – I was just going to take a shower in your bathroom." he sounds apologetic, but he doesn't withdraw.

In some back part of my mind I realize that this is turn-about-fair-play but I am too embarrassed (bare-assed) and too much in shock and too much in the aftermath of a humongous cum to do much but mumble, "Jeffy, just go to your room, Sweetie." He finally withdraws, shutting to door behind him. '(I must remember to hit the button on the knob for privacy'), I resolve silently, out loud I say, "SHIT!!!".

I didn't see Jeff for the rest of the day. I guess he went out after he got dressed and was too unnerved to face me. Just as well, I had no idea what to say to him. I did a bunch of chores around the house, watched a soap, perused a magazine, but I was getting bored. My motor had gotten running and I was full of sexual tension and erotic energy, more that I had in me in a long time. I figured, what the hell, Jeff is out of the house, I can play without fear of being interrupted – play with myself, play with my dildos, play with forbidden fantasies, play with 'Jeffy' the joy toy that subs for my boy. Boy, oh boy! I got naked and shut the door and made myself comfortable on the mattress.

Now, let's see – what does 'naughty girl' want to daydream about? How about the ravishing of the mommy? Hmm . . . yes, Jeffy surprises me again, but this time he can't take the sight of his mom naked and writhing on the bed in sexual heat. He strips down his jeans – no undies, he's commando, and his shirt comes over his head in an instant. As I create the scenario, my hunk of rubber is working its way into my center. Nude, my son climbs in next to me and firmly grabs my legs and spreads them. His penis is bobbing with eagerness and the prow is a purple plum of swollen lust. I dream on.

He begins to thrust in, smoothly, as his aim is sure and my cunt is soaked. He presses me down with our bodies contacting at the nipples and arms hugging one another for better leverage. Our lips are going crazy as our tongues dance and the smack-smack-smack of our loins clapping together echoes off the walls. He is grunting and I am crying his name, "Jeff, Jeff, oh Jeff, Jeff!!" My 'Jeffy' is flying in and out and pounding against my deepest inner being, my other hand is slapping at my clit like a tom-tom.

"Fuck me, Jeffy, fuck mommy!" I am at full volume. "Hard . . . deep, harder . . . deeper, deeper, yes . . yes, make mommy cum, Jeff, Yess! Now, cum in me, Cum in Mommy sweet Jeffy!! fuuckk mmeee JJeeffyyy"

And as I sail over the moon in a peak spasm pure of pleasure I hear from somewhere, "Yes, mommy, I'm cumming too! I love you, mom, uuh! Uhh uuhmm. Ohh, mommm."

Did I leave the intercom on? Was that from his room? Was he listening to me again? I get up and rush to the door. It's lock. I open it. I step out into the hall. I don't see anything, but I stepped in something damp. I smell sex. Jeff was in the hall! God damn, was he spying on me again? I have to put a stop to this right now, I make a vow. I turn back in grab my terrycloth robe – no see-thru this time – and march out in the direction of his room. I throw open his door and there he is, sitting on the edge of his bed, pants down, dick dripping semen, and tears in his eyes and a face about to break a mother's heart as he burst into bawling.

Of course this is totally unexpected on my part and instantly I go from anger to pity.

"I thought you were calling me when I came home, so I went to your room, the door was locked and then I heard you . . . you cumming and saying you wanted to me to fuck you and I love you and I think you're so sexy and I have wanted to . . to make love to you for so long and . . and first I saw you in the bathroom and then I heard you last night over the intercom as I was thinking about you and you were thinking about me too and you didn't stop it but you came too and this morning when you looked so hot I thought maybe you were sending signals to me that you wanted us to . . . and then I didn't mean to see you doing . . . masturbating and when I heard you through the door just now I couldn't help it Mom. Oh, jeez, don't be angry at me . . . I love you. I love youu . . ."

All but the last was said in a rush, gushing out like a pot boiling over, but the last little three words were said so softly and with so much yearning that it made whatever anger I had evaporate and what flooded in was compassion for my boy who was no different from his mom in having incestuous desires and fantasies. I decided I needed to make it up to him and I could see that the object of my desire was close at hand. So I motioned him to scootch back on his mattress and pulled his shoes off and pants down. I then got him out of his shirt. Nude my boy looked up at me in wide eyed wonder and a shit eating grin beginning to spread across his face.

"Let me tell you a little story," I began, sitting next to him. I took my hand and wrapped it around Jeff's cock and began to stroke. "When your father and I were a young couple, just after we were married, we went on a camping trip with another couple whom were our best friends at the time. We shared a big tent, we had one side and they were on the other. We respected each other's privacy, but there were no secrets between us. Being married of course your dad and I put our sleeping bags together, as did our companions since they were engaged." Jeff's love muscle was firming up nicely with my ministrations.

"It happened that one morning, the other folks were feeling frisky, hell they were horny just like us, and they stated fooling around." I adored the smooth skin of my son's penis; I gently pulled up and drew down. "Well, we could hear them and see them moving under the bags, humping – literally. That turned your dad and me on and we began to make love as well." Jeffy's eyes closed as the swollen flesh was hot in my hands. So there we all were, fucking our partners on the opposite sides of the tent, sleeping bags bumping up and down like caterpillars and everybody moaning and groaning and whispering as we were cumming."

Jeff reached out cautiously and put a hand inside my robe and began to caress my breast, the left one. "We made each other hot, listening to one another. Later when we talked around the campfire we agreed that it was one of the most erotic points of our lives. Back then there wasn't so much access to porn tapes or the Internet." My nipple was in seventh heaven as my son stroked it. "It was better though, because it was live and so near, so personal and so free." We both were in sync now with our playing with each other's bodies, almost like, not quite making love.

"Did you ever listen to Grams and Grandpa?" my man-child asked as he switched tits.

"Sometimes," I confessed.

"Did you masturbate when you listened?" He asked his voice husky with sexual arousal.

I gave into temptation and bent my head down to mouth my boy's dick. "Umm-hmm" I confessed that I had to my kid, as I sucked on his boner and gave him a hum-job at the same time.

"Did you ever want to do it with Gramps?" Jeff gasped, but before I could respond, he erupted in my mouth at the thought of incest between his mother and her dad. I had all that I could do to deal with the copious flow from my son and could not respond. After he had calmed down I smiled and told him, "No not really; I found it hot to listen, but a little embarrassing too, so I didn't invade their privacy much. I had fantasies about some older men, movie stars mostly, but I understand where your coming – cumming – from." Jeff smiled at my pun, but he then loosen the belt of my robe and began to fill both hands with my tootsies. What fun!

"Okay, now listen young man!" I sounded stern, but he knew I was being only semi-serious. "We have done more than we should, more than I intended for to happen and as much as we ought, without going past the point beyond which we might not be able to control ourselves and do something that would be regrettable."

"I wouldn't regret it," my less than innocent son said.

"Well, I might, and if I did have guilty feelings and remorse would you want me to feel bad?" I asked looking him straight in the eye.

"No mom, I wouldn't. I see your point. I love you and would never want to do anything that would hurt you."

"Okay then, let's just quit while we're a head." I saw the disappointed look in his face and modified my proposal. "Well, I guess we could leave the intercom on and stay in our rooms, but no fucking for real, just fantasy, just in your imagination – okay? Wait a minute!" Something he had said before about the intercom finally struck me. "What do you mean – you were listening to me as I listen to you?"

Jeff laughed, "Mom! It's an intercom, not just a baby monitor, there is two way talking. .moaning. . when you set it on intercom mode – intercommunications - both talking and listening!"

"Damn! So you heard everything last night?"

Jeff nodded. "Mom, you do have the hots for me. You can't deny it now. We can have the intercom on, but why don't we just watch each other in the same place and cum together talking to each other and telling what we really want to do?"

"Because that would be like smoking in a shed full of fireworks. As dangerous as playing with matches in a dynamite factory. The temptation would be greater than we could handle and it could be very explosive."

"I like skyrockets"

"Enough! I'm going to shower, you can start dinner, buddy, and get out the good wine, we deserve it!" And then I went to my own bathroom and turned on the water. But in truth I was still turned on too. But I did lock the door.

There followed several busy days where there was no convergence of Jeff and I in any intimate way, either intentional or inadvertent. I was beginning to suspect what had at first appeared accidental on my son's part had been careful calculation. That he had intruded not so innocently in order to pursue where his prurient interests could be satisfied. Then again, neither was I entirely guiltless when it came to lustful listening. It wasn't that our libidos were dormant; just that it seemed that a bit of space defused the waiting skyrockets for the time being.

I had a regular tennis date with one of my gal-pals on Thursday afternoon. She had to cancel because her youngest was sick with some virus. I didn't think I could find another partner at the last minute, so I planned to work in the garden instead. Jeff was hanging around, so I asked him if he would like to do some weeding.

"I've got a better idea, mom. Why don't we play together?"

Immediately I began to say, no, that I needed to do flower sort of activities and fooling around was not just a casual thing that we might do when there was time to get other things accomplished. Though in truth, at the thought my panties went damp.

"No, mom, I mean why don't we play tennis together. I might be a bit rusty, but I'll give you a run for your money. What do you say?" What could I say? I said okay. A few hours of exercise would be good for us both. Jeff was out of practice but he got better after a couple of sets and I had to be at my best to counter his stronger serve. Finally, we were down to the last game before our court time was up at the club. Jeff suggested, "Why don't we make it interesting, mom? How about a bet?"

"Okay, what are the stakes?"

He smiled a foxy smile and replied, "How about a carte blanche treat, the winner's choice. The loser has to do whatever they ask – within reason of course."

"I know what I have in mind, already – but you won't like it, weeding. So you better be on your best game!" I called across the net. "What are you scheming?"

His grin widened. "Ohh . . . I'll think of something that you'll like doing." I could guess that it had to do with beds and bods. I determined that I wasn't going to let him have his way and keep love strictly a tennis term. But I think I was hustled, or he was very motivated to win the prize. I lost. But he wouldn't tell me what favor that I was obligated for, just then. We drove home. I was glad to get back to the house and air-conditioning after the hot summer sun and workout.

"I'm going to take a long shower and get cool and clean." I announced.

"Me too. In fact that's the thing I was going to cash in on. Let's shower together, okay?"

I should have known! 'Well, what's the most that could happen in that small shower stall, anyway?' I thought to myself. ('Just don't bend over with your back to him!') Naughty girl quipped. 'And make sure that he goes straight back to his own room afterwards,' momma Mona added. 'Or the sheets will get more soaked than the towels!' mother and minx chorused together. Sharing a shower would be fun with this lithe, attractive young man I thought to myself, just you don't get carried away, keep control, you're the adult. But at the same time I felt like a kid with a ticket for the merry-go-round.

I answered, "Okay, but you have to behave yourself. You said within reason and we aren't going to have a lot of hanky-panky, we are just having good clean fun, nothing naughty!"

"Right you are, a wash and nothing dirty!" he declared. Right, who was kidding who?

As we walked into my bedroom on the way to the shower, Jeff said, "Let me help you off with your top." He caught the bottom of my Tee shirt and swept it up and over my head in a single motion.

"Thank you, honey but I can strip myself," I said casually, as I kicked off my shoes.

"But it's more fun to do it my way . . ." he came back in a suggestive tone and tugged at my tennis skirt, getting it half off my hips.

"Oh, yeah?" I exclaimed as I grabbed his waist band and yanked down his shorts to his ankles so that he toppled backwards with his butt landing on the bed. I followed up with his jockey shorts with the same maneuver and now he was helpless with his feet raised high as I pulled both articles awkwardly off his legs over his shoes. He sat up then on the edge of the bed and divested himself of his sweat soaked shirt, as I drew down my sports bra to my waist exposing momma's pair of pear shaped mammaries to her son's eager eyes. I stepped between his spread legs, which were still shod with sneakers, and took his hands and very deliberately placed them on my waist.

My son hooked his thumbs in my spandex sports bra and slid it down slowly, catching my tennis skirt and even the panties in his dexterous clutches and dropped them down to the floor in a puddle of cloth covering my feet. I stood still. Jeff put his hands on my bare ass-cheeks and leaned forward drawing me slightly to him and kissed my lower tummy, and kissed lower and kissed lower again just above my bush. Talk about erotic! Romantic even. I got his wrists and moved his hands to my chest where they caressed my bosom with the gentlest of fondles. If I didn't get us into the shower right then we would wind up on the floor with my kid between my thighs and his cock knocking at the gates of paradise.

Indeed, I was lubricating from his kisses and the heady scent of male animal rising into my nostrils. My own womanly muskiness must have been in his face too, so close to my sexual center. I broke the spell of smelling each other's pheromones by turning toward the bathroom and said, "Last one in the shower makes supper!" and skipped over the carpeting like I was a schoolgirl, but this playground was adults only. Jeff got rid of his shoes and socks as he hopped and stumbled after me in his eagerness to join in the game of rub-a-dub-dub with mommy.

I turned the water on to lukewarm, a pleasant temperature for rinsing off summer grime and stepped into the stall. Moments later, Jeff opened the door and as he did I squirted body-wash gel on his hair and began to suds up his whole head. Since this effectively blinded him I had the advantage for the moment. I made my way down his shoulders to his chest and enjoyed caressing his pects. Then I got more gel in my hands and hugged him to do his back, our nipples rubbed against each other's torso in soapy stimulation. I could tell that this aroused him as his cock was ramrodding my abdomen.

I turned him so the water rinsed his top half, but now I used the suds to wash his privates. His was at attention as I stroked it and clutched the two delicate eggs in hairy sacks, making sure to play with his balls before going under his scrotum to get the crotch. I manipulated Jeffy so that the shower rained down on his front, rinsing, as I goosed him with a soapy hand to do his anus. Squatting down, I used more gel on his legs and turned him about-face so that I was "eye to eye", if you will, with the one-eyed snake that was proudly pointing in my direction. I opened my mouth and took it in, mouthing several inches, and I sucked and bobbed as my son held my head and moaned his appreciation.

Then I stood up and handed him the gel. I didn't need to say what was expected, and he kissed me full on the lips before starting lathering up mommy. He washed my hair and gave me a scalp massage. I love scalp massages. He did my back and legs, his firm hands turning me as he needed to gain access or get me rinsed. Then he had me face him and kissed me again on the lips and his tongue slipped into my mouth like it was something we had always been doing. It felt natural to embrace him, as if our slick bodies and our Frenching were all part of a wonderful sort of slow dance, intimate and erotic as our arms snaked around over both buns and backs.

We were one of those couples intricately entwined on a temple in India, celebrating our sensuality as part of the way we worshiped. It was sacred, it was love, it was a uniting. Water sprayed over us bathing us in a baptism of arousal as my son's hand went between my legs and explored the folds of femininity he found. My clit felt his stroke and my labia his digits, strumming through them as if he were making music. Then, I exhaled as one finger went inside his mother's pussy. I sighed as the second joined it. I gasped as they began to move, not so much in and out as back and forth, front to back, G-spot to the rear of my cavity; crooking his middle and ring fingers, waving within my empty place and seeming to fill it up.