Synopsis: A mother accidentally falls in love with her son.
NOTE: This is a NUDE DAY 2014 contest story, so please vote.
Note 2: Thanks to MAB7991, Robert, and golz86 for editing.
“Mother and Son”: a love story
A few days after my son’s eighteenth birthday, I realized I wanted to have sex with him.
I know…I know…it’s totally wrong and disgusting and perverted…I told myself the same thing in the beginning.
To explain my strange sexual appetite, my son Paul is exactly like his father, Darren, who died in a car accident when Paul was three. He has the same blue eyes, the same blonde hair, the same bright smile.
I have known these facts for years, but it became even more apparent as he transitioned from a teenager to a man.
That being said, I never thought about having sex with him until I accidentally walked in on him sitting in front of his computer and stroking his cock. I could tell that this wasn’t what I wanted, but rather a cock that would pull the cobwebs out of my long neglected pussy. However, the reality is that, putting his good looks, his exact same voice and his exact same big cock together, this is definitely what I want… like I can relive my teenage years when I first started dating Darren Seim… or in a morbid sense I’m reliving my marriage to the only person I ever truly loved.
I apologized profusely for not knocking, Paul was obviously as embarrassed as I was. That night, however, I couldn’t stop thinking about that brief encounter. At first I was amazed at what I had seen…then as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, my mind began playing tricks on me. Whenever I would close my eyes and try to sleep, the thought of my son stroking his thick, fully erect penis would flash through my mind. I would immediately jump up and shake my head because I was having such inappropriate thoughts…yet as soon as I would lie down and close my eyes, the exact same scene would repeat itself…I was in an incestuous version of Groundhog Day. A Chinese movie. Eventually, being so tired, I fell asleep. Obviously it was a bad night’s sleep.
The next morning, Paul and I pretended it hadn’t happened, but, of course, you can’t erase the past, and an unknown awkwardness began between us.
Over the next month, even though my morals said this was totally wrong…my long-neglected libido screamed that it didn’t matter. I began to pleasure myself imagining my vibrator was Paul’s cock fucking me. I sucked my dildo thinking it was Paul’s cock I was sucking.
Every time I look at Paul I see Darren.
Every time I talk to Paul, I hear Darren’s voice.
It became unhealthy and compulsive and soon started to overshadow all my thoughts and dreams.
I went back to my teenage years, at first unconsciously, trying to seduce my son, just as I had seduced his father all those years ago.
Although I’m not as skinny as I was in my cheerleading days, I’m still in good shape. Sure I could lose a few pounds, but who can’t? My night-black hair is starting to look gray, but I don’t think it’s enough to dye it yet. I’m a little fat from the start, I have a big body like my dad, so I have big natural 38DD boobs and a wide ass. Instead, I have long, skinny legs and I often get guys checking me out with their boob and leg eyes.
For the record, I have dated a few people over the years, some maybe further down the line, but none of them have been Darren. So, I always find ways to end relationships before they even reach the development stage. I realized I already had the perfect man in my family…now it’s time to make it happen.
I started wearing short skirts, tight shirts and high heels around the house…things that always got me what I wanted in a man. While my son noticed my ample cleavage, I realized that even though he was sexually interested in me, he was too shy to make a move…especially since I was his mother.
So one day over dinner, six weeks after I first saw his cock, I decided to ask questions and learn more about his preferences.
At the dinner table, I began by asking a simple question: “What did you learn today?”
He responded as usual, the way teenagers usually respond to almost any question their parents ask: “Nothing.”
And I quote: “Then why do I have to pay school taxes?”
His response left me with a mouth full of sarcasm, “So I can understand that some people believe that Hamlet and his mother had an incestuous relationship.”
I gasped. My son had covered the topic I wanted to discuss in less than thirty seconds. Does he even know how I feel? What I want? Does he want me as much as I want him?
I joked to myself, “Apparently the message of Hamlet has changed since I was in school.”
Paul added: “No, the message is still about religion and revenge and becoming a man, but if you read deeper into Shakespeare’s words, you’ll find that Hamlet and his mother are having sex.”
I joked again, this time to see what he thought about the idea of incest, and asked, “So you’re telling me that, according to Shakespeare, to be a man you must have sex and sleep with your mother?
Having said that…I realized I just asked my son the most important question ever.
His face turned red and he stuttered, “I didn’t say that, Shakespeare said that.”
“Do you agree?” I asked, eager to hear his answer… His nervous red cheeks were so cute… My pussy was so wet I had waited so long for incest between him and me, the thought stayed in his mind, and then I added to save his face, “Shakespeare wrote about incest.”
“According to Mrs. Walker, incest between royalty and peasants was common in Shakespeare’s time, so it wasn’t unusual for the playwright to write about it,” he replied.
I changed tactics again to test her interest and asked, “If incest was once common, did Mrs. Walker discuss when incest became inappropriate?”
Paul shook his head. “It was actually a very brief discussion. She just mentioned that if you go to college, some of the professors go into more depth about the subtext of the play and the possible incestuous relationship between Hamlet and his mother.”
“I get it,” I said, smiling, adding a more subtle hint, “Funny how life always works out.”
“What do you mean?” Paul asked.
“In Hamlet, I don’t remember the plot exactly, but I remember there was a speech about the cycle of life and death,” I shrugged, then added, looking for praise, “but that was a long time ago.”
“Oh, Mom, you just turned forty,” she replied.
“I feel fifty,” I replied with a heavy sigh.
“Oh, Mom, you’re still a very beautiful woman,” he replied, unable to meet my eyes. Did I make him uncomfortable? Did I turn him on?
“Thank you, son.” I stood up, walked over to him, bent over, and gave him a big hug. I made sure my whole breasts were pressed against him, so that my perfume would get all over him. I bent down, kissed him on the cheek, and said, “You’re so cute, just like your dad.”
When I returned to my seat and sat down, I saw that his face was red and he was clearly overwhelmed by what happened.
We spent the rest of the meal chatting about his upcoming graduation, his summer job at the university library, and the university itself… Although I asked questions, I’m not sure I listened to many answers as I considered the reality that the seed of incest had been planted, now I had to help grow it.
Now that I was completely obsessed with my son and the idea of incest, I began researching the prevalence of incest in today’s society.
The more I read, the more I saw the pros and cons of having a close relationship with my son.
What I learned: Throughout history, incest has been common among all kinds of groups, especially peasants, rural people, and the poor. I also learned that royalty and the very wealthy indulged in it, and that there were secret societies dedicated to the happiness of family relationships.
Incest between cousins is still common, and about half the states even allow cousins to marry (though some of them still ban gay marriage, which is interesting).
Statistics also show that almost everyone knows someone who has participated in incest, whether it be pure siblings, parents and children, grandparents and their grandchildren, aunts/uncles and nieces/nephews, etc. Based on this theory, I wanted to know who I knew would be involved in an incestuous relationship.
Although the numbers are small, 10 percent of those surveyed disclosed in anonymous surveys in their early twenties that they had had consensual sex with a sibling.
Additionally, on the Literotica website, the most common search was for incest stories, all of the most read stories were incest, and mother-son relationships were the most read erotic stories on the web. There is even a taboo film series that fictionalizes incestuous relationships. Furthermore, despite its ever-present presence in history, mythology, novels, and more, incest remains the most overlooked or least discussed taboo subject.
Many studies have also proven that people are often attracted to people similar to themselves, so family members may be sexually attracted to each other but ignore these feelings due to social standards. (Although Paul looks like his father, he has eyes and cheeks like mine).
Finally, a theory called “genetic sexual attraction” explains the surprising number of incestuous relationships between family members who do not know they are related. The study concluded that the first introduction to a biological relative leads to sexual attraction in half of the cases, and about a quarter of them eventually develop a sexual relationship. The numbers continue to rise due to rising rates of divorce, one-night stands, adoption, and embryo donation.
After this fascinating study session, my vagina was crying for attention, so I opened Literotica and searched for incest stories, and I couldn’t believe there were so many stories about incest relationships. There are brother-sister, aunt-nephew, father-daughter, mother-son. There are also some mother-daughter stories and other same-sex stories. I narrowed my search down to mother and son and started reading. Although they were fiction, I liked these stories because I imagined myself as the mother and Paul as the son. I experienced intense sexual arousal after listening to some of the stories.
The next day I went online and found a forum full of people who had admitted to incestuous sex. I finally found something that struck me:
I started having sex with my son shortly after his eighteenth birthday. As he grew from boy to man, I couldn’t believe how much he resembled his late father. When he showed up to prom wearing a tuxedo I knew I wanted him. I researched the ethics of incestuous sex, I chatted online with women who had had sex with their sons, and decided to give him the gift many boys fantasize about on his nineteenth birthday…his mother. We’ve been lovers ever since. Although we’re not legally a couple, we behave like a married couple. Kennedy
Her story appealed to me because I felt exactly the same way. I clicked on her name and was pleased to see that I could contact her via email.
Curious to know more, I sent her an email:
Kennedy, I hope I am not being arrogant in my advice, but after reading your brief statement on your intimate relationship with your son, I need your advice. I too want to have sex with my son. I too lost my husband. I see reflections of my husband in my son’s look, voice and behavior too. Can you give me some advice on crossing the line? Anxious Mom
After pressing send, I went back to Literotica and read a few more stories before getting back to work.
I am a nurse and when I got home from work around ten in the evening after a long day at the hospital, I took off my shoes to see Paul.
I opened another button on his shirt, then knocked on his door and said, “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” he said.
I went into her room and found her on the bed reading a book. “Honey, how are you today?”
“How strange,” he replied sarcastically, looking at me.
“Is that an SAT word?” I joked as I followed her to her bed.
“I don’t think so,” he shrugged, looking down at my feet as I walked toward him.
“What are you reading?” I asked, walking over to him and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“A Mistake in Our Stars,” he replied, “I need to read it before the movie comes out later this month.”
“Good,” I said. I leaned forward and kissed her cheek again and said, “It’s been a long day and I’m going to take a shower.”
“Okay, Mom.” She nodded, her cheeks turning red again. Apparently my kisses either excite her or embarrass her. I’d love to know which it is.
I stood up and walked toward the door. I stopped, turned around, and saw him looking at my legs again. Curious if I was right, I sighed, “Damn pantyhose,” then got back on the bed, put my feet on the end of the bed, bent down, and tied the nylons over my toes.
Although when I looked at him he was back on the book, it was obvious he was checking out my feet. I wonder if he is a foot guy. Darren used to be a big breasted guy. He would spend hours playing with my boobs. He even enjoys fucking them with plenty of lube. Although he sometimes cums in my pussy and sometimes in my mouth, most of the times he ends up shoving his cock between my breasts.
I stood up and walked out, stopping again at the door as I turned and she quickly looked away. I said with a touch of sensuality: “Good night, my dear.”
“Goodnight, Mother,” he stammered.
Leaving his room, I suddenly felt reassured about two things:
1: He’s a One-Legged Boy
Second: I excite him
This new knowledge excited me so much that I went to take a shower and enjoyed myself, as I sometimes did with a powerful shower head, while I thought about Paul fucking me.
In my room, wearing only my robe, I opened my laptop and checked to see if I had heard a response from Kennedy. When I clicked on his reply, I felt a thrill down my spine.
Hi, thanks for your email. I remember when I was in your situation.
I have mixed feelings.
I am his mother and I shouldn’t feel like this.
Incest is wrong.
I will go to hell.
However, the more I denied my feelings (can your own feelings be wrong?), the more I fantasized about my son.
I resisted for months and self-destructed my existing relationship with a great man…he wasn’t even my son.
Eventually, I decided to move forward and thus began the most loving, sensual and satisfying sexual relationship of my life…including my husband, whom I loved with all my heart.
Sex should be with someone you love and care about, and while society frowns upon it (even though it was once common), the reality is your own flesh and blood, whether it be a son, daughter, mother, father, aunt, uncle, niece, nephew or any other blood relative is close to your heart and therefore truly worthy of intimacy.
Lastly, don’t be ashamed of your feelings, as I mentioned earlier, your inner feelings cannot be wrong (no matter what society says); i.e., when we decided to live as lovers, we went into another state, no one knew we were biological mother and son.
If you have any questions feel free to ask.
Kennedy on Yahoo as MomPlusSonyQualsFun (I know this is stupid, but at the time I thought it was hilarious)
I read the email three times, got tired and decided to respond tomorrow. I shut down the computer and went to bed…wondering how much Paul felt about me the way I felt about him.
……
The next morning, I responded to her email:
Kennedy thank you so much for your encouraging response.
I feel immense guilt about my son’s sexual feelings, which has subsided somewhat after reading online…but having been in a similar situation myself (my husband died when my son was three), I do feel guilty about myself, and feel more at ease after reading your email.
My question is this: How did you go from these initial desires to eventually having sex with your son?
I hope this is not a very personal question. If so, I apologize for asking this question so impudently.
Courtney
This time I signed my name and was no longer ashamed of my feelings.
I cleaned the house for a while, spoke to my mom on the phone before leaving for work, and the thoughts of incest faded from my mind as the demands of work took over.
That night, I was tired again and decided to check on Paul again, this time he was playing online games on his computer and didn’t even hear me knocking on the door.
As soon as I walked in, I scared her because she was wearing gaming headphones. “Mom! Oops, you scared me to death.”
“I wanted to let you know I’m home,” I said, walking over to her bed and kicking off my shoes.
When he looked at me, he turned away, which I took as flattery. I joked, “I think it’s time for you to find a girlfriend.”
“Why?” he asked, trying to make eye contact with me, but more than once he glanced at my legs, which he thought was unobtrusive.
“When I was your age, I went to parties and met boys,” I shrugged, taking off my first shoe, “you know.”
“What?” my sweet but naïve son asked, unable to focus clearly on what I was saying.
“Take it out,” I replied. “Besides, I met your father when I was eighteen.”
“You did?” she asked, “You never told me how you and Dad met.”
“It was love at first sight,” I joked, throwing the other shoe on the floor and falling backwards onto his bed.
“What?” he stuttered, obviously distracted by my words and my feet.
I turned on my side to face him, put my legs together, and said, “You’re eighteen, and I think you’re old enough to hear this. If you can get rid of your old bag, there’s a mother in it to tell you stories of her young, wild days.
