Message-ID: <31502asstr$995483405@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <20010718025550.27343.qmail@web20109.mail.yahoo.com> From: Slip Stitch Subject: {ASSM} My Mother (m/f incest) Date: Wed, 18 Jul 2001 15:10:05 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, RuiJorge __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Get personalized email addresses from Yahoo! Mail http://personal.mail.yahoo.com/ <1st attachment, "mother.txt" begin> My Mother, by SlipStitch Warning! This story contains scenes of a sexually explicit nature between a mother and her son. If this offends you, why the hell are you reading an erotic story titled "My Mother"? Anyway, you've been warned. And if you're under 18, shame on you :-> If anyone has questions or whatever, please feel free to email me at slipstitch2001@yahoo.com This is my first attempt at an erotic story, and I would appreciate any comments you'd like to send my way. Anyway.... "Oh hey. Listen, when you're done in there could you give me a hand in the kitchen?" My belly pulls in, drawn by a violent breath; startled. For a moment she just stands there, leaning against the doorway with studied nonchalance, as staccato moans escape from some place deep within me. I explode. She leaves, eyebrows arched. Wow. I need a moment before I can even look around; the waves take time to recede, and I try to savor them despite the mounting embarrassment. Orgasm waves, shock waves. My mother walking in to my room, sweaty, t-shirt clinging, just on the verge of the most mind-blowing, skull fucking cumshot of my masturbatory career. That's fucked up. Closing my eyes, I can still make out her figure, a sharp outline, lit from behind and above. I trace circles of semen across my chest, breathing. I try to picture it from her perspective. It had to have been stunning. Thick, forceful jets of white, pulsing their way onto my chest, the tight little knot that my abdomen had become, even my face. Just exactly perfect, enough to make the most jaded porno director cream his khakis with delight. Wow. I shake my head and open my eyes, aware now of sound, shape, color. Music from the den, faint, new agey, definitely my mom's. I get up, sitting on the edge of the bed, the heat draining from my face, rational thoughts resurfacing. Same as always except for the open door. Fuck. I start to reach for my trusty cum sock, but I change my mind. After all, it's not like she didn't know. I've been jacking off since I was 10, and too many cum soaked pairs of underwear made it into the wash for her to remain ignorant. A part of me is relieved, sort of dully satisfied at not having to hide. I decide to get up and head down the hallway, naked, covered in the cum she has just seen me release. It is a weirder experience than I had expected, and I duck into the bathroom glad that she didn't see. A warm washcloth and I'm alright. Exiting the bathroom puts me face to face with her, cock still cooling down, not quite soft. I'm embarrassed now, forced to confront my mother with my naked body. "Oh shit, mom. I'm sorry," I mumble, dropping my gaze, cheeks flaring with a quick heat. "It's okay honey. I was just coming to wash my hands." She speaks quickly, and I feel a moment's tension come and go. "It looks like you've already washed up. You can come in and help whenever you're ready." In a minute I'm dressed in my standard t-shirt and jeans, heading down the hallway towards the kitchen. My mom is throwing some spaghetti into a pot of boiling water, her eyes downcast. "You can get started on those vegetables if you want to," she offers, pointing to a stack of veggies laid out next to the cutting board. I hunt around in the drawer for the good knife and get to work. I chop for a minute or two, pretending to be absorbed in the flute on the stereo. She makes the sauce, her brow furrowing as though it required every bit of her concentration to light the burner and throw the ingredients into a pot. Pretty soon the lack of conversation becomes painfully noticeable. A half dozen casual comments die on my lips, none of them quite right. She speaks first. "So. Have you had sex yet?" "What!?" I look up into her eyes, the first time I've met them since she walked into my room. "I mean, what kind of question is that?" "Alright! Relax. It's just a question." There's a moment's pause as she checks the spaghetti. I stir the sauce, hoping that the conversation is over. I can feel myself withdrawing, hiding behind a false irritability. Realizing that it's unfair to her, that she's just trying to show concern. Still, it makes me nervous. "Because if you have, I just need to know that you're being safe, that's all." "No, mom. I'm not having sex. You've seen my social life; does it look like there's anyone I'd be fucking," I ask, embarrassed, irritated by my embarrassment. "Now, now, there's no need to get all defensive on me. Since when have we not been able to talk?" I remain silent for a moment. She's always been able to get me into a conversation. I don't know what it is, maybe just that she cares enough to want to talk. After a moment she says, "Come on, let's go sit down; this has to simmer for a few minutes anyway." Off she goes, into the living room, leaving me with no choice but to follow. "Come sit down," she says, taking a seat on the sofa. She pats her hand on the cushion next to her, and I sit. "Now then," she says, "why are you so down on yourself? I'll bet there are plenty of girls that would like to fu-" she catches herself, "have sex with you." "Like who? Terrie? Or Liz? Come on mom, you know that's not how it is with us." "Do you not want to have sex? If that's what it is it's okay." "I know, mom. That's not it. It's just..." I trail off awkwardly. "Mom," I say, embarrassed, "I'm not sure I feel too comfortable talking about this with you. I mean, it's just..." "It's just what honey?" Her tone is soothing, motherly. It's not what I want to hear. "Well, it's like I'm being fucking interrogated, and I don't like it." Not what I wanted to say, either. "Oh honey, there's no reason to feel like that. We're just having a conversation. So what if it's about sex? It's perfectly natural. I'll tell you what. How about if we take turns asking questions, you and me. It'll be like a game. How about we each get three questions, and then we switch off. That way it won't seem so much like I'm trying to pump you for information." I think it over for a few minutes. It's obvious that this conversation isn't going to end anytime soon. Her idea seems okay to me, and I say so. "What if there's something I don't want to answer?" "No problem. You've got the right to remain silent," she says with a smile. "Well... ok. Deal." I decide to let her ask first. "Go ahead." "Well, alright. You haven't had sex... How far have you gone with a girl?" "Mom! That's kind of a weird question for you to ask." I can feel myself blush, just a touch. "I don't see why. I'm just curious." Her smile is warm and inviting, like we're telling ghost stories or something. After a moment's resistance the smile wins. "Ok. I went down on a girl once, last summer." I can tell by the way she looks at me that she's expecting more. I don't know quite what to say. A second later, something in me just snaps, and I decide to tell her the whole story. I don't know why, but the words start rushing out, no thoughts. I keep my eyes in my lap. "We'd just met really, and she was kind of cute, and it was late at night and she asked if I wanted to go swimming. So I said sure, you know, and she didn't say anything about swimming suits. By the time we got to the river I was pretty nervous, you know, like she probably did this all the time, and here I've never really let a girl see me naked before. But we got there and it was no big deal, really, she just stripped and jumped in, and so did I. It was cool, you know? And of course we started splashing and playing around, and next thing you know there's her hands grabbing my ass, and she starts kissing me, real long and slow, you know, and I figure hell, why not? So I start feeling her up, feeling her ass and her tits, and it's great, but I can't help it, I start feeling real self-conscious. And so here's this girl I've just met, rubbing on my ass stuff, and my cock is as limp as a fucking shoestring. And I don't really know what to do, you know, so I just keep on kissing her, and I slide my hand up between her legs. Like I would have stopped, but we were out in the fucking woods, alone, and she drove, and she seemed to be getting off, you know, so I just kept on going, fingering her and trying to figure out what made her feel good and stuff. And we got out of the water, and she pulled me down to the ground, and I decided to go down on her. So I did. And afterwards she said it was the only time she'd ever gotten off on oral sex, and I don't think she was just saying it, like I could feel her telling the truth. She started to go down on me, but I couldn't get into it. I was scared. You know? I was fucking terrified. And my cock wouldn't go past half-mast anyway, and after a while she just stopped. And we just held each other, naked on the river bank. And that was the best part, really." I stop then and look up, into my mom's eyes. She's wearing a look that I can't read, quiet, but troubled, like she can't make up her mind what to say. After a long moment she says quietly, "Do you think you might be gay?" The question takes me by surprise, and I give a startled laugh. "What? No, mom. I'm not gay. At least I don't think I am, and I guess I'm the only one who's fit to judge. I just couldn't get into screwing around with a girl I didn't know, that's all. And besides, it was the first time I'd ever tried." "Have you ever told this to anyone before?" I shake my head, no. "I never felt like there was anyone I could tell. Everybody my age is pretty fucking stupid when it comes to sex. You know? It's like they all see it in movies and think that's how it is." "I know, honey." She gives another encouraging smile. "Honey, it's okay not to get an erection if you don't want to. And it's okay to get excited when something feels sexy. You shouldn't let anyone's concepts of what's right or wrong interfere with what your body needs. If you've got a partner who can't handle that then you probably need to talk about it. You have to make up your own mind, about sex just like everything else." She pats my hand, classic mom gesture. "Yeah. Thanks, mom." I manage to answer her smile with one of my own. "Anyway, you've had three questions. Is it my turn?" "Well, yes, I suppose so. What do you want to know?" "Well, ok. How about the first time you had sex? What was it like?" "Oh wow. That was such a long time ago, I don't know..." "Mom! This is never going to get anywhere if you hedge all the questions." "Ok, ok. I'll answer. It's kind of a long story though, that's all." Her eyes roll back for a moment in reflection. "I guess the story starts about eight years before you were born. I was sixteen, and I was just starting to come out of my shell. Before then I was always kind of a bookish type, you know; I kept mostly to myself. Very prissy, always putting airs whenever I ran across the popular girls at school. Looking back, I think I kind of envied them, fake smiles and all. Boys seemed like they were in a different world altogether. And then I met Chris Freeman. He was tall and funny, and he had this cute little smile he would get sometimes when he thought no one was paying attention to him." She giggles a little at the thought. "Every time he saw me his face would just light up, and he would start talking about the weirdest, most interesting things. I remember one time he asked me whether I thought a kangaroo would make a good pet. I said yes, and the next day he brought me a little baby kangaroo that his dad had let him borrow, just to see my smile. His dad worked at the zoo, you see..." "Mom, do you think you could speed it up a little? No offense or anything, but this is supposed to be about sex, isn't it?" "Oh. Well, I guess you're right. Anyway, to make a long story short, we were just crazy for each other. Eventually we started to kiss, and fool around a little, you know, around my chest..." I can feel her getting a bit nervous. "Mom, you can say tits and stuff; I am old enough." I can feel a mischievous smile work its way onto my face. "Old enough even to visit swingcity.com. Mom." "Wha- I don't see what that has to do with anything," she say quickly, adding a note of confusion just a second too late. "Or should I say PinkLips?" I add, tauntingly. "You little sneak! You think you can just go traipsing through my personal files?" The words are indignant, but I can see the smile on the edge of her lips. "Well shit. I guess you know you're not the only one who masturbates around here." The smile breaks through, fills her face with an affectionate glow. She says as if to reassure herself, "This is good. It's about time we brought our sex lives into the open." "Wait a minute. I want to know more. When did you start masturbating?" "Is that your second question?" she asks, mischievously. "Sure. Just remember to come back to the first one." "Alright. I started about a year before I met Chris. It's no great story though. One day I was in the shower and just decided to slip a finger inside. I was an instant fan. My mother even started commenting on what long showers I'd started taking, and how I spent so much time in my room all of a sudden. I don't know what it was; I guess I was just a horny little girl. I never really got into pornography. My imagination was always enough. I guess once we got the internet I was just curious. I went to a couple of sites and decided I liked it, so I started coming back." "Do you have any toys?" The question seems to take her aback. Truth be told, it takes me back a bit, too. It's something I've wondered about for a while, but I hadn't intended to just flat out ask. She answers slowly. "Well, yes actually. I bought a couple online. I'll show them to you sometime if you're curious." A quick image of my mother lying on her back, hips wedded to a rubber dick. I take a sharp breath before asking, "Do you use them a lot?" "I think you're all out of questions, mister." "You still haven't finished the first one," I point out, "And remember, you don't have to dumb down the language." "Don't give me that innocent look. You just want to hear your momma talk dirty..." She pauses for a moment, continuing with a grin, "Well alright, where were we?" "Your new beaux was feeling your tits," I supply, trying to sound helpful. "Yes, thank you. Well, he'd been feeling my tits for a week or so without going any further, and I could just tell he wanted to. So one day your grandma and grandpa were out of town and we were making out, and I just told him that if he didn't start sucking my nipples, I was going to have to break up with him then and there." Smiling broadly now, she's obviously enjoying herself. "It was an empty threat of course, and he knew it, but man, he went to it. I don't know if I've ever had a man lick and suck on me like that since. It was like he was fucking starving, trying to squeeze out a drop of milk. Shit, you didn't even suck that hard when you were a baby!" She doesn't usually cuss; her language takes me by surprise. "It felt great, but after a while, it started to get a little old, you know, and I decided, what the hell, might as well go a little farther." She was right, of course. Hearing my mother talk about sex is a bit strange, but exciting at the same time. I can feel my cock begin to harden, just a touch, enough to feel it, to send little shivers up my spine. Her eyes find mine as she continues. "His hands were already working overtime on my ass, and I knew he would do anything I said. So I said 'stop.' Right away he took his hands off of me and asked if I was ok, if he had hurt me. It was so sweet! I just looked into his eyes, and then I leaned over and whispered in his ear, 'I have never, ever wanted anything more than your tongue moving inside my cunt.' He just went to pieces, laughing and hugging me, squeezing my ass and fumbling with my zipper." She is into the story now, no longer looking at me, but at a point somewhere beyond me. She parts her lips just a touch and runs her tongue over them absent-mindedly. "As soon as my jeans were off, he went to work, slower this time, as if he wanted it to last forever. Or maybe that was just me. He was a natural. Slow, lingering kisses around my thighs, long gentle licks around my lips... He pushed me down onto my parent's couch, and pretty soon he was going full speed, licking on my clit and working his tongue inside of me." She pauses for a moment, her eyes shifting back into focus. "I don't know, honey, this is getting pretty graphic..." I can see her eyes drop to my crotch, taking in my now throbbing hard-on. "Mom," I say, as her she raises her eyes to meet mine, "if you leave me hanging now, I will never forgive you." After a moment, she goes on. "Well, if you insist, baby. You certainly know how to make a girl feel needed..." Again her eyes lower, but this time she looks away, clearing her throat. "Now then, let's see... Chris was licking my pussy like he was born for it, and I was going crazy. Screaming, moaning, running my hands all through his hair and over my tits. And just as I'm about to come, he just rams three fingers into me, no warning, no nothing. Oh god. I'll bet the whole block heard that scream." By this time I've begun rubbing my prick through my jeans, my eyes fixed to the wall, trying to be discreet. She doesn't even notice, she's so wrapped up in the story. "I came three times on that couch, each time more powerful than the last. I had no idea anything like that was possible. I mean, masturbation was wonderful, but this was nothing like that. It was so strong! Oh god it was strong. Like an ocean, crashing inside of me..." Looking over, I see my mom's hands have moved from her sides; a small gasp flutters past her lips as she tweaks a nipple through her shirt. She looks and sees me looking, sees me rubbing. Dreamily she asks, "Am I making you excited, honey? You just go ahead and do what comes naturally, I won't mind. Just listen to your body." And with that, she slips a hand into her tights. My head is spinning, watching the outline of her hand move beneath the fabric. I watch, stunned, as the parameters of my world collapse upon themselves. I am suddenly aware of our closeness, frightened by it. I can hear her breathing, shallow and husky, merging with my own. She goes on. "I ripped those jeans off of him, you can fucking believe it. Mmmm, his cock was so perfect. It was just throbbing, quivering, waiting. For me. I slipped off of the couch and he sat down and I just started kissing it. And licking! Licking down the length of his prick and sucking and rubbing. Oh, yes! Yes!" I watch, transfixed, as the orgasm sweeps through her, the crotch of her tights soaking wet. She lies still for a moment, her head tilted back against the cushions of the sofa, and then she takes them off. My god! The sight of her hair, my mom's thick, curly pubic hair, makes my breath stick in my throat. I'm still staring as she spreads her legs lazily, my eyes following the triangle of hair downwards, to her lips. Slightly open, they are amazing. Slowly, unaware of what I am doing, I move my hand, placing it upon her thigh. The contact startles me, breaks me out of my reverie, and I stare at my hand. She lets a sigh escape her lips, takes off her shirt. And she continues the story. "He shot his load all over my face. It was wonderful. I opened my mouth and caught some of his juice; I loved the taste. I got on top of him and kissed him, and he started licking, licking his come from my lips and cheeks and forehead." Slowly, I move my hand, inward, brushing the inside of her leg gently. My hand meets hers, and together we begin to play. I start rubbing the length of her lips, slowly working my way inward. She gasps, the story forgotton. Her hand begins to rub furiously, rubbing at her clit, causing her moans to rise in pitch. I am lost now, pushing fingers in and out, her hips riding up, down, up. Three fingers, four. I am racing now, fighting to keep her pace. Her breath is shallow and hard, and soon her moans turn to screams, crying, lusting for me. For me! My mother screams my name as her hips assault the air above her, as she slides down the cushions of the sofa, until she lies with just her shoulders on the couch, her ass held high. And I am there, between her legs, my fingers starting to slow, starting to caress. She sinks to the floor, my hand still trapped inside of her. Her eyes open slowly, and she begins to say my name, but I don't her finish. In an instant, my lips are pressed against hers, my tongue pressed against hers, twining. Our bodies meet, mine still encased in clothing, hers warm and smooth and wet. She breaks the kiss, pulls the shirt off of me and begins to kiss. Licking my chest, sucking and biting on my nipples. I reach down and begin to massage her tits, rubbing as she rubs down my back, her nails scratching. Her hands reach down the back of my jeans, squeezing my ass, and she reaches around and undoes the zipper. "Oh momma!" I manage, as she frees the denim from my legs, "Oh god mother!" My cock is enraged, thrust upward in its need. She doesn't touch it. Stillness, just for a moment. Excruciating. She smiles, then says huskily, "You know there's more to the story, don't you honey?" Still avoiding my cock, she pushes me gently, laying me down flat on the floor. "His cock was still hard," she begins, "and I laid him down on the floor." She begins to slide up the length of my body, rising up into a squat, her waist even with mine. "And I got on top of him, like this... And I lowered myself onto him..." Her pussy strokes the tip of my cock, the lips barely grabbing hold. My eyes are locked onto hers, as she continues. "And we started fucking!" The last word escapes her clenched jaw, guttural and thick. And she drops. One fierce thrust and I'm inside of her, fucking my mother with abandon, groaning, hands gripping her ass, screaming my love to her. Our love is bright, burning, piercing color shot through a wide and bottomless ocean. Our love is thrusting, grunting and wet, joined through passion and flesh. Our love is my love, all of the love and lust and beauty inside, leaving my flesh and becoming a part of her. My mother. I don't last long, but it's enough. As I lose control, her walls close in upon me in tight, rapid waves, screams becoming something other than screams, something without meaning, just pure visceral sound. Thick, dangerous chords of sex, resonating between us. And my semen, bursting into her body. And her hair, gentle across my shoulders and smelling of lavender. And our sigh, a single outward breath, as we lay in each other's arms. Time passes, and I am afraid to open my eyes, savoring the dream. But I feel my mother's body, and I smell her sweet smell, and it is no dream. Our smell. When my eyes open they find their way into hers, and we smile. Suddenly she shouts, "Oh fuck!" and scrambles to her feet, running quickly down the hall. For a moment I panic, thinking she feels regret, until I remember the spaghetti. Sounds of frustration emerge from the kitchen, banging pots and running water. I burst out laughing, and get up, naked. I head into the kitchen and share my laughter with her, kissing my mother on the lips. The End. <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice----- Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice----- ------- ASSM Moderation System Notice-------- This post has been reformatted by the ASSM Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+