All characters over 18. Involves mother/son incest – so if that’s not your thing, you’re better off not reading it. Thanks!
My story’s not that unusual, I guess. I grew up at the end of a cul-de-sac as a quiet kid who liked food and video games too much. Which was something that could be regulated alright by my parents, until the divorce. Then I became a latchkey kid and had my run of the place for a few hours until my mom got off work.
It sounds like a kid’s dream come true, but looking back, I didn’t really enjoy it that much. I was sad and lonely and was looking for pleasure. And my focus on food and video games turned into a focus on porn and masturbation when I hit my teens. It helped that I was usually guaranteed to have the house to myself every afternoon when I got home from school. And once my mom started trying to break back into the dating scene, I got a lot of nights to myself, too.
That’s how the trouble started.
Some context – the year my parents got divorced, I had some problems in school, and got held back a year, but made it to the beginning of senior year. What I didn’t have – yet – was enough money to buy a car for myself, so I was either bumming rides from my friends or using buses to get places. If all else failed, I rode my bike or walked.
Which is why in late September, right before I turned 19, I was walking home from a friend’s house. Originally, I had planned to spend the night but something had come up so I decided to just head home. Cars were parked along the street, as usual, but no car in the driveway meant I had the place to myself. And that meant I was free to check out come lesbian porn – my obsession at the time – without worrying about my mom coming home suddenly.
I took off my shirt and was already heading toward my room when I heard a strange noise from the living room. It sounded a bit like a small animal – like a puppy whining, or something like that. Which was weird, since we didn’t have a dog.
I changed directions to go investigate. Our living room had been converted from a garage by the previous owners, so there were a couple steps leading down into it.
I froze on the first step. There was a woman on our tan sectional sofa, her hair covering her face.
She was naked. And she was sexy.
Her lips were full, accentuated by her biting down on her lower one. Her breasts were breathtaking. Her hips were round and voluptuous, her thick thighs were smooth and creamy. My cock stirred in my pants.
She threw her head back, and that was when I recognized it was my mom.
It made sense – she was the only other person who lived there – but I hadn’t really viewed her that way before, you know? I knew from sorting laundry that she wore big bras, but I guess I hadn’t really thought about what they meant until I saw her breasts on display like that. Plus she was pretty reserved, and never talked about sex, so it was easy to just…imagine she didn’t have sex.
I know, I know: I was evidence that she had. At least once. But whatever.
Her tits were gorgeous. Tits like hers were why people started referring to them as melons. I couldn’t see her pussy, though, ’cause a guy’s head was in the way. And, thinking back, I wondered if that made it worse for me, in a way. ‘Cause if I had seen it, then, you know, I would have known what it looked like. I wouldn’t have been wondering. I wouldn’t have needed to imagine it.
My mom’s pussy.
The puppy noises were coming from her. She had her back arching, gravity pulling her breasts a bit to her sides, her dark-chocolate hair now splayed out behind her. This person – this guy – was eating my mom out. On our couch. In front of me.
I don’t know why I kept standing there. I don’t know why I didn’t just turn around and walk away. Maybe it was like a car accident, and I was so horrified, I couldn’t look away. But it wasn’t horror. Curiosity? Without even thinking about it, I adjusted the bulge in my pants – right when my mom’s vocalizations got deeper, and louder, and she put her hands on the back of the guy’s head and started grinding against his face. Hard.
I decided it was time to go. The step creaked loudly as I shifted weight to go back upstairs, and I froze, whipping my head back to check on the couple on the couch.
The guy kept at it – my mom’s thighs probably blocked out any noise. But my mom’s hazel eyes were locked on me. Who knows how long it was, but it seemed like she was staring at me for a full minute. The guy kept lapping at her pussy, and finally her eyes fluttered closed again and she said “Oh, God, YES!” in a ragged, throaty tone of voice I had never heard her use before.
I retreated back toward my room as she cried out again and – I assume – orgasmed all over the guy’s face.
I didn’t bother turning the lights on in my room, just shut the door and went quickly to my bed. I didn’t feel sleepy at all, just…strange. And like I needed kocaeli escort to think about things for a bit.
I tried thinking about other things, I really did. But the image of my mom naked on our couch kept intruding. The way her breasts swayed as she moved. The way her legs were spread, her head thrown back, and the way her pussy…
What was her pussy like?
I knew this was wrong – possibly even criminal? But it was like a mystery that had taken control of my mind. I kept trying to think about other things, to distract myself: what I needed to do for school tomorrow, what homework I had left to do, how I should spend the rest of my evening.
And that reminded me of what I had been planning to do. And that my shirt was still in my hand.
I sat up, tossing the shirt in my laundry basket. Shit. Was that…did it…make it worse? That I had my shirt off? Would my mom think I was turned on by it and that I was getting naked? Like some kind of pervert?
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored closet doors. My pot belly stomach pooching out. Gross.
I flopped back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Up until then, I don’t think I had really processed…like, I was still figuring out how I felt about it. But I hadn’t thought about what my mom’s reaction would be. How much trouble I could be in.
Was she going to send me to a therapist, or something? What did parents do with perverted teenage children, send them away? Did you send him to a German psychiatric institution if you thought your adolescent son was getting turned on by seeing you get your pussy licked?
Her pussy. My mom’s pussy.
She probably kept the pubes neat. Maybe a triangle? Like a little arrow, pointing down towards her slit. And I wouldn’t guess she’d have a big clit, but then again, if her tits were any indication…
My brain was taking me weird places. Those tits – those massive, exquisite tits – I had sucked on those tits. A lot. And nothing had seemed weird or unnatural about that. But it would seem very weird, and very unnatural, if I sucked on my mom’s tits now.
I shook my head. What the hell was wrong with me? I went to change into my pajamas and was shocked at how hard my cock was.
As I lay back down on my bed, I thought, Well, that made sense. I was planning to masturbate. I probably was still hard from that. But actually – why was Mom here? And where was her car?
In the distance, I heard the front door close. Then footsteps coming quietly down the hall. I realized, as I heard the gentle knocking on my door, that I had my dick out. That I was stroking it. When had I started doing that?
“Mike?” My mother’s voice was soft, and low. Low like when she was getting close to coming. “You awake?”
I froze. My door didn’t have a lock. If she saw me now, lying on my bed, my hand sliding up and down on my hard cock, what would she do? Where would she send me, if she knew? There I was, stroking my fleshy pole – and without really wanting to, thinking about putting both my hands around one of her delectable breasts and sucking on it. Thinking about the face and noises she made when she orgasmed. Thinking about my mom’s hot, wet pussy…
I imagined myself shoving my tongue into her twat and my jizz shot out onto my bare stomach. I groaned in spite of myself.
“Mike?”
I held my breath. After a moment, I heard the footsteps again, and the sound of my mother’s bedroom door closing.
* * *
When I woke up in the morning, I felt like crap. It took a minute to remember the unusual incident from the night before and guess that it had messed with my sleep.
I wasn’t looking forward to facing my mom at breakfast. I stalled, taking an extra long time getting dressed, packing my stuff for school – even cleaning my room a little. Finally, when I decided I couldn’t put it off any longer, I made my way down the hall to the dining area by the kitchen.
“There you are,” my mom said. Her voice was strained. She wasn’t smiling.
“Here I am!” I responded lamely.
“Kind of surprised that you’re here…weren’t you going to spend the night at Jake’s?”
“Yeah, no, I was.” I hesitated. This was important. My mom’s expression was serious, and it was making me nervous, so I looked down. Instead, my eyes fixated on the black top she was wearing. Even though the fabric was dark, the garment was tight enough that it emphasized the globes of her breasts.
I looked down at the table instead, then continued. “His sister got hurt at volleyball practice and so they kind of needed to focus on her so I just walked home.”
“Oh. Well, listen, I think we need – “
“I was surprised, too,” I said quickly. Quicker than I had meant to, in fact. My mom’s eyebrows were arched and I realized she might think I meant walking in on her. But I had no intention of going there. “I mean…your car wasn’t in the driveway, so I just assumed you weren’t kocaeli escort bayan home.”
My mom gave a forced chuckle. “Yeah, the check engine light came on, so Doug followed me to the dealership so I could drop it off, and then he gave me a ride.”
I snorted, then clapped my hand over my mouth. “Ride home, right, no, I get it,” I blurted. My voice was higher than usual. This is going well. As if my body had noticed my nerves and was trying to make it worse, I discovered my dick was swelling in my jeans.
My mom and I spoke at the same time. She said, “Mike, we should probably talk about what you saw,” just as I said, “Anyway, I’ve got a test, so I should head to school.”
We looked at each other. She looked me over, biting down on her lower lip as she considered me. Just like she had last night.
I stood, adding, “I’ll eat my breakfast on the way.”
Then I grabbed a bagel and a banana and moved quickly to the front door.
* * *
We didn’t talk about it, though. It’s like we both made an agreement, without saying anything, to not discuss it any further. After a few days, it seemed like maybe the issue was forgotten about. By her, at least.
Then my birthday came. I woke up and saw the table had been set and there was an envelope at my place at the head of the table.
“There’s the birthday boy!” my mom said, smiling warmly as she approached. She was wearing gray sweatpants and a turquoise tank top. Weird. Not how she usually dresses at all. She pressed against me to give me a kiss on the cheek, going up on tip toe for a moment.
I sat down at my spot at the far side of the table, facing the kitchen. My mom grabbed the plate of pancakes off the counter and leaned over the table to place a pile on my plate. The only thing blocking her cleavage from my view was the syrup bottle, and Mrs. Butterworth wasn’t doing much to preserve Mom’s modesty.
I swallowed and looked down at my plate. A moment later, my mom sat down next to me and slid the card over. “Well, open it,” she said, with just a hint of impatience. I rolled my eyes – my mom had a bit of a history of making other people’s birthdays be about her – but opened it nonetheless.
Inside was a birthday card, and inside of that was a gym card. I must have looked confused because my mom laughed.
“Mike, I’m kind of worried. You don’t exercise very much as it is, and now that you’re about to get a car and won’t be riding your bike or walking as much…I just worry about you staying active.” She looked away from me and began adjusting the tablecloth absently. When she spoke next, her voice had a forced casualness to it. “The other night, when you happened to be walking around with your shirt off, I noticed how pudgy you’ve gotten, so I thought this might be a good way to get into a healthy routine.”
Nice. So my mom was bringing that up to insult my physical fitness. A breeze moved the branches of the elm in the front yard. Aren’t mothers supposed to think their sons are handsome, no matter what? Isn’t that, like, their job?
I put both the gym card and the birthday card back into the envelope, working my jaw back and forth for a few seconds. “Okay,” I said. “Well, thanks for the gift. Listen, I just got a stomach ache, so I think I’m going to have to take a rain check on these, uh…” I glanced up, and my eyes strayed to her chest, then immediately to her face, “…delicious flapjacks.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding concerned. “Can I get you anything?”
I stood up, shaking my head, and took the envelope with me as I moved back to my room and shut the door.
* * *
Months passed. Things mostly stayed the same, but some things changed. One big thing.
I became a gym rat.
I didn’t plan to, really. Things had gotten awkward with my mom, especially now that we had another awkward moment to not talk about, and going to the gym was a natural excuse to avoid the stress of being around her, especially since I didn’t really have many friends. And it was a nice change to sitting around playing video games all the time.
The changes to my body were like…a side thing. It’s weird how quickly things can change when you go from never working out to working out 4-5 times a week. I wasn’t surrounded by flesh anymore. I didn’t feel like I was dying as soon as I ran more than a block. And suddenly all my clothes were way too baggy. I went from staring at myself in the mirror and feeling like shit to staring at myself in the mirror thinking how crazy it was that I could actually see my ribs. And some muscles, for that matter. Like – visible muscles, even when I was relaxed.
I finished high school and started taking classes at the local community college. I also started working part time as a coach for the city’s youth soccer league. My mom agreed to let me keep staying at home if I kicked in a little money toward rent and helped out with things around the house izmit escort – mowing the lawn, weeding the garden, that kind of stuff.
And at night I mostly closed myself in my room and played video games or looked at porn. Discovering the world of adult video games, where I could combine my two obsessions into one, was either really useful or really dangerous, depending on how you looked at it. And yeah, it was sometimes logistically complicated to play with one hand, but you figure out ways to make it work.
Probably it was inevitable that my mom would walk in on me at some point. She did have a habit of doing the doctor’s knock – a couple of knocks as she’s walking into the room – that parents seem to love so much. And, as mentioned, my bedroom door didn’t actually lock (I’m pretty sure whoever set it up just used a doorknob for a closet or something to be cheap).
So you’ll say – Mike, you idiot, of course she was going to walk in on you. And I say – no, you judgmental jerk, because I was smart enough not to do it when she was home.
But just like happened the time I saw her grinding her pussy against Doug’s face, sometimes plans change unexpectedly.
Anyway. One Friday night, I was naked in front of the computer, playing one of those corruption-style games – the type where you gradually get your “landlord” and your “housemate” (who are thinly veiled proxies for your mom and your sister) to do sluttier and sluttier things. I liked this one because it was less rapey than some of them. Like, the way the game set it up, the girls were really horny but repressed and you were just, kind of like, facilitating things. Removing the barriers to them doing what they wanted to do all along.
Anyway, by this point in the game I had “facilitated” things to the point that my virtual mom was wearing nothing but a dog collar. She was on all fours on the floor in front of me, her giant tits dangling down – tits that would have seemed unnaturally large to me if they weren’t so similar to the pair my real-life mom had.
What was absurd was the amount of jizz (well, my character) had just shot into a bowl. When I placed the dish of hot cum on the floor in front of the woman, she began dutifully lapping it up.
Probably I didn’t hear my mom come home because I was getting close to cumming and so all my focus was on the game and stroking my cock. I felt my balls tightening as a huge orgasm began to build.
Three things happened at once.
Number one, my video-game mom finished her “dinner,” using her fingers to wipe up some of the cum jeweling her humongous breasts and licking them clean.
Number two, thick ropes of spooge started shooting out of my real-life cock.
And three, I heard my actual mom gasp from the doorway.
For some reason, she had skipped the first part of the doctor’s knock – you know, the actual knock – and gone straight to the walk-in-without-waiting part.
We both froze. For a brief, desperate second I thought about trying to cover myself up with my clothes, or trying to play it off like I was in the middle of changing, or…something.
But there was nothing. I was caught.
My mom, in a low-cut blouse and jeans, looked me up and down, her face hard to read. Shock, certainly, and another expression I couldn’t figure out.
It seemed like forever before she spoke: “Mike, I’m so sorry, I – ” Her hazel eyes went wide as they flicked over to the screen.
“Oh,” she said. Her eyes didn’t seem to know where to go – she looked back at me, then down at – was she looking at my cock? One last little spurt of cum, like an orgasmic aftershock, seeped out of the head of my turgid penis. Thanks, dick.
Her face was flushed; she bit her lip. She took a ragged breath before adding, “I’m…I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded strained, like she was holding something back – tears, maybe? At what a pervert her son was? Or…something else?
She turned. I heard her steps move quickly away.
Shit.
I stared blankly at the empty doorway for a while before realizing that I was still sitting there, naked and covered in jizz, with the door open. I wiped myself clean with an old towel and threw on a pair of gym shorts – I didn’t bother looking for underwear.
I sighed as I headed down the hallway, pausing at her closed door. The floor creaked as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
Muffled noises came from the other side of the door. They sounded like…kind of like sobs, but different. It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.
I knocked on the door. The sounds stopped. I knocked again, one more time. “Mom?”
There was a pause. It seemed like an eternity. That’s when I realized what the sounds reminded me of: puppy whining.
Was she…had she been…?
I heard rustling, then footsteps. The door opened slowly.
“Hi, Mike,” she said, her voice husky. She had changed into a powder blue satin nightgown. There was a bow near the bodice that I tried to keep from looking at.
Her cheeks were red and her hair was a little damp. I could smell alcohol on her breath.
For a time, neither of us moved.
“I…I wanted to apologize,” I said.