That's just the way he is, and it won't ever change. I stopped trying years ago." I was a bit sad, and resigned as well, I knew it sounded so in my voice. "So we worked out a sort of arrangement. I go into our bedroom about a half hour early and masturbate, then he comes in and does his thing."
I added, "Don't think poorly of your dad, he was raised by a different culture, with other ways. And aside from the lack of foreplay, he is a satisfactory lover, and he cuddles before we sleep, usually." I didn't want my son to think less of his dad for not being willing to do what most men find as fun. Along with my speech I had been doing a simple and chaste rubbie-dubbie, as a way of calming him while I was discussing a sensitive subject. It helped me provide a sense of connection with him as well, one of love and trust, for I was trusting him with my most intimate secrets.
"So when you thought I was asleep, when I was sick, and . . uh .. tried some things, I got really turned-on. Only, I was too tired to enjoy them, then. I thought, maybe that you might help – raise the level of our, your father's and mine, sex life. Put new zing in it, zest, pizazz; and it did. For me at least, I am much more hornier than I was before we started to . . ." I didn't want to say 'make love' though it was loving each other in a physical way. I paused to try to say it just exactly as I wanted to express this sweet and tender touching we were engaged in.
". . Before we started to tuck each other in." He finished for me, that was it! Yes, tucking, what a great euphemism for our bedtime foreplay to get me warmed up for his dad.
""Yes, Darling." I leaned over and kissed him on the lips, then Frenched him. A moment later, I used my tongue in his ear, and then whispered. "Daddy's asleep." We could hear him snoring. I breathed the words softly, "You were my nurse." Opening the top of my robe, I let him see I was bare beneath as the gown parted, I made sure he knew that I only had some thin panties on under the satin. "Would you like to nurse on these?" I said as I offered my ta-tas to him.
His lips kissed mine, murmuring "Uh-huh". They traveled down my neck to the cleavage. Then he suck one, and the other to my joy. My hand sought to sneak under the cover and discover his swollen penis. We adjusted our positions with some maneuvering, so that he was hovered over me, feasting on my ripe and ready red berries. my fingers working daintily on his dick. I was giggling, as I do – and he was gasping. Then, suddenly he was shooting a long milky stream over my abdomen. I had made my boy cream for his mom!
"Good, Baby! Good!' I said with the same tone as when he had played a difficult selection on the piano. But this he had not had to practice so many hours to accomplish. He Frenched me again, the fun of our tongues first in mine - then his mouth, back and forth the tangling went. He lightly was on top of me. I teased, "OH! You have a lot of goo, for your mother. Did you save that up, just for me?"
"No mom, that is the usual dose. If we play nurse again, can I give you an injecting, next time?"
I needed to steer him away from those dangerous thoughts! "Mmm, I don't think we ought to go that far. This is just supposed to be foreplay, not the main event. I wanted to explain to you why I was allowing you to make out with your mother, then I couldn't help myself. But now, I think maybe we better cool it. I don't want to get caught by your father. YOU don't want to get caught by your father. And while I certainly have had a zesty time, you ought not to have a 'zing' for your mother."
"Well, mom, it looks like you got my pizazz all over your tummy, even so!" We laugh, our combined chuckles a happy sound in my ears. Then shushed each other, so we wouldn't wake hubby. After he got some tissues and wiped my tummy and cleaned me up, I rolled to my feet to leave. I did up my robe and threw him a kiss, as I exited. I hoped that he understood better what our limits were, but I had not quite expected things to reach the point they had. I really did believe that things needed to cool down, but I knew that it would be difficult to walk that narrow line between mutual stimulation and self control.
My son spent a lot of time, in the next week on the computer, surfing incest sites; I could see by the history scroll. I covered his tracks, so as to not leave any evidence for his father of his Internet activities. Sometimes I went on line myself, privately, and found the stories very provocative indeed; and I did, on occasion, masturbate to one or two! I realized that Cest was desirous for more of the intimacy we had share on this new level of our relationship. I too, had yearnings, but I had to be the stricter of us, as I was the parent, the one responsible ultimately if the shit ever hit the fan!
Some time passed, about a week I guess, when my husband had a big thing at the office. It took him in early, kept him late and left him exhausted. He fell asleep in front of the television, he almost never did that. He was sawing wood, and I knew he was sound asleep, as did Cest. We looked at each other, and it was like we read each other's minds. Not surprising since the same thoughts were no doubt going both through our brains. I went to the toilet, and then my room. I was certain my son would follow in a little while, when he got the idea I was not going to return to the living room.
Sure enough! I had stripped and slipped in to bed. He made a quick little knock as he entered. I had the sheet pulled up to my chin. I slid down flat, trembling from excitement and anticipation and I was so high strung all I could managed to eek out of my vocal chords was, "Rubbie-dubbie." His hand glided all over my body, making me well with emotion, it felt so good. I leaked tears from my eyes, but I was dewy down at my juncture as well. I reached out and took his wrist and guided it under the cloth to my pussy. He wormed a finger into the slit, and discovered my lubrication. It went in and withdrew several times.
His single digit was joined by another as first it found my opening. Then, as I spread my legs to help, he stroked my vagina with both. I wanted to see him, his manhood, to touch that magical rod, stroke it like I had done before. I had thrilled when he shot his wad in a creamy stream on me earlier. Now I thought to recreate that lovely phenomenon. I tried to get my hand in the waistband of his shorts, but as soon as he realized what I was after, he shucked them down. Even better!
He sidled along side me on the mattress, and I was drawing him to me by his meaty handle even as he made his move. We began to kiss with a frenzy, the tongues engaging in a slithery duel. My son's fingers were sawing in my cavity, making me mad with passion. I tried to bring him off before he rolled on top of me and plugged it into my socket, as I thought he was close to doing. Our panting was the loudest sound in the room. Our heat must have made the air wavy, like above a red-hot oven when it opens. I was open and in fuck lust. Even if my spouse had caught us at that moment, I would not have cared, nor could we have stopped!
His fingers touched off my climax, as they thrust in and out and hit my G-spot. My pelvis rose as if I were
taking him in. I lost concentration on what I was attempting to work with his penis, yet somehow managed to keep hold. I wailed my cum in a long pitch of a siren's cry, I could not be silent right then! Whether it was my jerking torso, or vocalization of my ecstasy, or the combination of all - with my fingers wrapped on his wiener; Cest himself reached his own peak and squirted the load of sperm on my front. Quite a goodly amount too! I looked at him, I loved my boy, but I felt a little remorse too, that I had not held to my resolve to be more restrained.
We didn't speak, perhaps for fear of breaking the spell of the moment. I adjusted to the reality that our lust was stronger than our moral will. It was okay though, since he was as eager to have these stolen moments as I. Even as he tucked me in, covering me once more with the sheet, I accepted that our love life was now something that would continue, in someway, without having actual intercourse, we still had become lovers. It was both strange and wonderful at the same time. I fell asleep almost immediately, and hardly stirred when some time later my husband joined me in bed, before he had to get up again. It was a new dawn for me too, sexually speaking.
I masturbated quite a bit, even when hubby was not home and my son was out. I thought it was better to try to use that as a pressure relief valve for my physical libido, which was more like a run-away train since the tom-foolery of tucking had begun. Then the day arrived where my husband departed on a business trip for a few days. I knew that my son would 'carpe nochem', i.e. cease the night – not let the opportunity go to waste. Nor would I, either. In fact, I swear, I had to change my panties three times by the evening, they kept getting so soaked!
It was a Saturday, Cest was waiting in his room, the door open. I passed by his room and looked directly at him and said, "Give me twenty minutes, and then come." I took a quick shower and then went into my bedroom. I got totally undressed and slipped under the sheets without a stitch on. No sooner was I settled, than here came my boy, with no hesitation he climbed onto the mattress. He was in his boxers, but when I drew back the cover to reveal my nudity, he stripped them off in a nonce. I took his sweet face in my palms and drew him to me to plant a loving kiss.
Still holding his attention, with my hands on the side of his face, so that he had to look me in the eye, I said, in my most serious tone and with a stern look, so he knew I meant what I had to say, I didn't mince words. "Now I need you to promise me something important. No matter what happens, and what else we do, you will NOT get carried away and fuck me. We mustn't. It's terrific fun, you're fantastic and special. I love you and our fooling around is something we both enjoy. But we both love your father and would not ever want to hurt him. Promise me that, and we can continue. Or if not, we will have to stop altogether."
"Okay, mom, but can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Sweetie."
"If you beg me to do it to you, what then?"
"You still must not, because if I lose control, then you must not, even more so. If you lose control, then I will have to be the firm partner. If we both lose control, then . . . well, then there will be very serious consequences neither of us is prepared to deal with."
"Alright, you have my word." I think he meant it at the time.
"Then, I have a favor to ask of you." I paused a bit embarrassed. But I continued in a little voice, "Would you go down on me? Eat me?"
"Yes, mom, I would love to do that, to you – for you." He rolled and scooted down to be between my legs. I spread my thighs as he nuzzled his mouth to my labia, the lips nibbling and he began to tongue my split. I loved to be lapped there, then he zoned in on the clit which popped out to allow the pleasure to move to there. He made every effort to deliver joy all around the the sensitive inner hollows of my legs, kisses everywhere, then dipping as deep as he could into my core, making oral love to my whole womanhood. It was wonderful!
"Oh, Baby! Ooh that's soo goood!, yes like that!" I cried and whimpered and gasped and moaned, and let out shuddering wails even. But not once did I giggle. His dad had never given me this treatment, such a special delight. This was more than just a little treat, like petting my breasts, this was an important release. I don't know how many times I came. Big and little, long and sometimes in multiples, I more than let myself go, I had lost control of my body to his tongue torture. I really allowed the femininity of my sex being to enjoy fully the cunnilingus my son so expertly gave.
I was glad I had made him promise to honor the limits I set. Because I was certainly vulnerable while I was at the mercy of his mouth. At last panting heavily and murmuring, "Enough, okay, enough!" I pulled him up to me and hugged him as we kissed leisurely and cuddled. Perspiration had dampened the sheets, but we were too overcome with our session to have the energy to change them. Instead, we moved to his bed, and then, though it was narrower, we fell asleep in each other's arms.
Now the next day, being Sunday and 'lazy day' by tradition in our home, we slept late. He awoke with a morning woodie, not unusual, but now I could take advantage of it. I bent over my boy and was sucking on the turgid cock that sprouted from his loins. I didn't know if his dates did it much with him, but I was more than happy to give his stiffy fellatio. I was happily making his dick my breakfast sausage. It was soon to be as limp as raw bacon though, as my technique and his reservoir from having foregone orgasm last night combined in explosive potency.
He looked down to the sight of his mom bobbing on his boner. The shaft was stretched to a gleaming pillar, the head was like a large strawberry, though not as sweet. I could sense his eruption rising and as he yelled to signal that his jumping balls were about to release a fountain of jism. Like the flow of a new spring, spurting in gushes, the white cream poured out, into my mouth. I let it drip from my lips, like melted ice cream. I lifted my head proud of myself, because I had just done something special for my son, a job obviously well done too! It wasn't something I'd a lot of practice at – turns out, I'm a natural!
I wanted to soak in the tub that morning, to wash up from the sex and sweat of the night before. Cest asked if he might sit next to me, and talk. It continued the intimacy and that was so nice, for all too soon, I knew my husband would be back. I did ask him to bring me a large glass of orange juice, as I was rather thirsty and some buttered toast. He laughed as he left to fetch the food and was pleased with doing my bidding. When he returned with the tray, he also had fetched a glass of milk for himself. I was already sitting in the tub. I didn't use bubble bath. I knew he would rather get another viewing of my charms. He fed me while I wrinkled in the water.
We talked about movies we wanted to go to and what he was studying in history that I also had interest in, remembering my own courses. He fed me half slices of toast, so my wet hands did not need to handle the food. It was fun. But then after the meal, the real recreation began. I let me wash me. All over. Now the tables were turned and boy bathed mommy. It had been years since I had given him a tubbie-rubbie-dubbie. I wondered if he remembered those days?
There is both a sense of humility and sensuous pleasure to be washed by another person. When combined with the sexual overtones, that were not at all subtle or surreptitious, but outright blatant and encouraged by the washee for the washer to freely do, it became an awesome experience for us both. At once, so personal, and intimate, and never not anything but stimulating. I adored the experience! Cest's hands and palms and fingers, explored every private and secret place of my body. He rubbie-dubbied like it was a special duty that but a privileged few got to do, indeed, it is. Inside and out, and inside and up, his fingers made the magic happen for me in a huge orgasm at the end of the washing. That is an amazing activity I wanted repeated again, though it would be rare we got the chance.
My legs were shaking as Cest helped me out of the tub. He toweled me too, another delightful activity in it's own way, though not as intense as what we had just finished. By that time he was sprouting another erection. I had an great idea, for that brainstorm I led him into the living room – thank goodness the drapes were closed, as we were completely nude. I made him sit me on our easy chair, and knelt before him. I took my bosoms and squeezed them together. They were not too droopy, still nicely firm, but they were long enough do the job I had in mind. The technique I'd heard some gals talk about, but it was nothing I had ever tried before.
However, I was sure my boobs were ample enough to provide a encompassing padding for my son's dick. I leaned forward and swayed, to allow his penis to plow between my tits. The soft skin, had been made even velvetier by the soak in the suds, it really made the kid happy to be thrusting between the soft tissue, I could tell. Dry, yet silky smooth; pliant yet with a definite pressure all around; the visual of my nipples, was giving him big smiles alternating with open mouth gasps. We were both completely turned on, the erotic element absolutely overwhelming, and soon his jism squirted in my cleavage.
After that we changed the beds and did a few chores to straighten the house. No clues to be found by hubby! Then we went for a drive, I headed to the park, stopping at the store for some bread. I love to feed wild animals; any kind, the water fowl - ducks and geese, squirrels got their share; the sea gulls were the greediest. But it made me laugh and feel like when I was young girl again, back when I was single. Just as Cest had fed me, I too felt like I had freedom. Like the ducks and squirrels, a creature not in a zoo or cage; so I was no longer in the confining relationship of my spouse's marital backwater ways either, thanks now to my son.
The evening finished with some favorite TV shows we both liked and we retired to bed, mine, to cuddle and make out. No intense foreplay, but just some light fingering, sucking and a mutual hand job to bring each other off. Hubby would be home by the time Cest got back from school. Then it would be catch as catch can for our tucking-in and rubbie-dubbies and any other opportunities. I knew that I had someone who was certainly willing to warm me up, if his father and I were going to fuck. I did love my husband, and even if he was being cuckolding sort of, by his own son, I didn't want to leave him without any outlet or comfort at all.
Things settled into a routine, as one would expect, life tends to become normalized, even in the bizarre circumstances of our incest. As Cest put it so well, he had become the surrogate foreplaymate for his father. But that is what was going on for nearly a month. Once or twice a week I would coax my unimaginative partner into screwing me. Meanwhile, I would let my boy know that his appearance was welcomed in our bedroom before the old man showed up. Cest happily diddled with my privates, before his dad had drill practice with his prick. If time allowed I'd suck my son, before my spouse arrived. Then with our usual giggles and groans and such, I always also distinctly heard a gasp from the other bedroom, as we all three were in the midst of our sexual pleasures.
Then, one evening when my husband seemed especially worn-out from a long day, he retired early and noisy snores were soon sounding from our bedroom.
I had finally decided to give into my lust, and let Cest have me. I quietly as possible striped and slipped on my robe. I was sure that nothing short of an air-raid siren would wake my husband but I didn't want to take any chances. I tip-toed to my son's bedroom and lightly tapped on the door frame. I entered without hesitation, with some trepidation though. This was no common tryst, it was outright incest. I went to where he was laying, waiting for me, shedding the gown as I traipsed over to my big boy. He was naked on top of the sheets, his penis erect, very rampant! I pressed my fingers over his lips to shush him and keep him silent. I climbed over him, so we were almost nipples to nipples, my bush brushing over the tumescent meat.
I lined up our genitals so that he was captured in my groove. I began to move, the club of my son rubbing against my clit and already I was oozing lubrication. I was so turned on my entire skin felt like it was inflamed. I put my mouth to his ear and whispered words I had not said in quite a while, "I'm going to tuck you . ." but this time, I was not putting him to sleep, but about to put him in my vagina. I moved my pelvis in a tilt and my hips moved along his axis, my legs splayed - spread on each side of his torso. The proud package of tubular muscle was being stroked from my tummy to labia.
It was the most erotic thing I eve felt, because it was my son's cock I was in contact with. The same dainty ding-dong he had as a toddler, was now a man-size miracle of manhood mashed between our bodies and ready to pleasure the very place he came from. My cunt was in control of my brain. Back and forth, the sensational connection was incredible! Our cunt/cock grinding was made slick with my secretions. All Cest could do was hold on to my backside globes and wait for the exquisite moment of entry which was to be both our delights.
I teased myself, making the tip of his prick dip in, but just through the folds of my nether-nether-land of the pudenda. Eventually, I knew I had to move to the real-deal, lest Cest prematurely spill his load on the outside. I wanted that wonderful cream filling me, deep at my womb's gateway. I gave a little cry of my sharp pleasure, a wavering, quavering quiet articulation, "~I'mm going tooo tuck you~". He was right there, right there at the entrance, should I do it? I needed it so bad, I had to, right or wrong, AND HE WAS RIGHT THERE!! It sank in a fraction of an inch, in my pussy, his dick in my hole!
"I'm going to . . going to . ." I had a difficult time speaking it was soo goood, to have my boy about to penetrate me. I took a deep breath, and tilted my hips at the angle that would allow him to make the journey into my craving cavity. "I'm going to . . tuck you . . in . . tuck you in! - - I'm going to tuck you in!" And with that, I engulfed my son's rod with my womanhood, making him a man and my lover at last! I lifted a slight ways to make sure that all would go smoothly with the final plunge. I let it linger an inch inside, but I wasn't a cock-tease, I slowly sank on top as it spread the tender tissues with it's motion up through my very core.
At last, he was fully inside, fulfilling me, screwing me. But I couldn't stop there, yet I hesitated for a moment, luxuriating in the grand bottoming out of his beautiful penis in my vagina. I had to move then, I was driven by instinctive primal lust. The urgency to mate with the sawing in and out of a male member in my femininity took over all my thoughts, drove my actions and made my entire physical self attuned to sex in a way I had never felt before. It was as if we had reinvented fucking. It was a higher level, another plane of experience that included the spiritual along with the sensual, the sacred balancing the carnal.
The pace picked up as we gathered momentum. Now we were what could best be described as banging, bouncing rampageously, in a pounding of flesh together. The mattress sprung with our fury, so much so that we nearly fell off the side, but somehow at the very brink we rolled and I was beneath Cest as he socked it to me, the stroking a no nonsense ravaging of my pussy by his steel stiff stalk. I was at his mercy, but willing submitted to this beast who was a boy any longer. I was his for the taking, and how he made the most of making his mom his woman! My knees were raised and I was wide open for him to let rip with his tool in me.
Then in a final frenzy, we crashed together to lock the length of his cock in my cunt and blast away. The shudders and jerks and heaves were indistinguishable between the two of us, who was doing what as we came in an awesome rush of squirting and gushing and flooding. The orgasm of one was the climax of the other, as we mutually reached the peak paroxysm together, simultaneously. We were paralyzed for one long and uniting moment, and then, like the collapse of a house of cards, we came down from our grand cum and held each other, just kissing and murmuring how great it had been.
I knew this was just the beginning, because now that the line had been crossed, there was no going back. Having tasted the forbidden fruit, the menu would have that applesauce as a regular treat!
In the long run, it was my own realization that pre-coitus masturbation was not sufficient for the sex-life I deserved, that broke down the last barrier. But though I didn't want to have an affair, ironically I incestuously did so with my son. At least not it wasn't with someone I didn't already love. So there were no complications outside the home, just my affections romantically were simply two-fold now. Yet that worked out fine. Not that we didn't have an adjustment period to establish a delicate balance within the walls of our domicile of double love. But since it had been made clear from the start, Cest was be sensitive to my husband emotional state, we managed it.
Cest sought stories to inspire me to have sex with him, but he really didn't need them, as I was happy to fuck him by then anyway. I'm laughing even now, remembering the terrible (but sweet in it's sentiments) poem he found. He read it to me, it was tough to keep a straight face, but he was so serious I had to, rather than hurt his feelings. But then I finally lost it, and burst into hysterical giggles when he finished. I made it up to him later though. He does like the titty-jobs I give!
I suggested he rather offer our own tale, for others to read. Perhaps it might be instrumental to help people of similar situations, to resolve their issues. When he let me read what he wrote, that inspired me to have sex with him, then and there and quite intensely, I was so turned on. On further reflection, I decided that I wanted to share my own view of what happened during those intimate moments.
I hope you enjoyed reading the story again, from my perspective. I didn't go the word play route as Cest was want to do, but he does get his wanton ways from me. That's why we got tuck-gether in the first place, 'cause Cest needed to rubbie-dubbie inside me as well. So my 'teddy' got lost, as he likes me naked, with the light on; and what he sips on now is from his mother's own wetness! He puts it to me, before my husband beds me. Sometimes, I 'tuck in Cest', if hubby has gone to bed early. That's our bedtime story for tonight. Kisses and lights out, big boy!
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