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From: thedisciplen@yahoo.com (DiscipleN)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 3 Jul 2003 03:58:36 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} I'll be a Mommy's Uncle! [4/6] (Fm,Ff,ff,incest, mom, son, role reversal)
Date: Thu,  3 Jul 2003 09:10:08 -0400
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I'll be a Mommy's Uncle!  (4/6)

by DiscipleN
Copyright (c) 2003, by DiscipleN. All rights reserved.

Multiple codes represent the characters' gender quandaries. Otherwise,
the story is a slow strip tease for incestuous, power transgression
fans.

--------------------------


--- 4 ---

After that night I pretty much knew when I could ask to wear her
clothes. About once a week seemed to satisfy her. It drove me to near
madness. I jerked off constantly, filling every scrap of cloth with
cum, desperately alert for her next moment of naked availability.

About once a week, mother would strip in front of me and dress me in
her clothes. Then she would proceed to act like a little girl who
desperately needed love and attention from her mommy.

My own role in these games were so anti-altruistic, they were killing
me. I lost no end of sleep frantic to put my hands on her in less than
a loving way. It's fair to say I wracked my adolescent brains to
discover a way past her innocent sweetness. At the same time, I was
gradually responding to her overt show of affection during these
events. I had begun to love my mommy/daughter, and sometimes I
wondered if I were the little girl playing for attention from my
nakedly erotic mother. I doubt the clothes had much effect on my
untested masculinity, but our scenarios would have ambiguated
Hercules. When my mother acted like a little girl, I knew the feelings
of a protective father. When she looked into my eyes and called me
mommy, I had to look twice to make sure I hadn't grown breasts
overnight.

During her off times, when she was very much my mother, she never
mentioned our debaucheries, but it became plain that she considered
them bouts of evil she needed to purge from her soul. She worked
harder than ever to make me an upright, god fearing boy. I wasn't
allowed to bring friends home, as only she was good enough company for
me to find examples. I worked like a dog at the house, with my mother
working twice as hard beside me.

It was when emotional and physical exhaustion set in her bones, did
she slip from one personality to the next. On the days she stripped
her body bare of her station and placed it loosely upon me, those were
her days of rest. Naturally, they occurred more and more frequently on
a Saturday. Sunday just wouldn't have worked out.

One Saturday, while we were drawing with crayons at the kitchen table,
my cock was about to burst. For two hours I had watched mother pour
over her drawing, naked tits brushing occasionally against the
tablecloth. I felt like chewing on a book cover to keep my teeth from
grinding. My own picture was filled with rape scenes of stick people.
One particular figure was screwed again and again, always between her
circles for tits. I drew crazily, but I had to be careful I didn't
draw over my dangling black sleeves. My illustration was a rare
pastime I could use to offload my growing sexual frustration. It
wasn't enough.

"Look mommy, I drew a horsey!" Mother exclaimed and she held up her
previously, carefully guarded paper.

Mother's horse picture was as fabulous as her piano playing. She had
gotten really good, and her music was actually able to tame my wild
beast. Her carefully colored and shadowed and lit figure of a lithe,
paint horse gliding over a meadow could have won a prize for best
crayon art of the year, out of the nation's professional crayoners.

"It's beautiful," I told her, trying to kept lust from eroding my
voice.

When she hugged me, I lost all control. Her warm arms around my loose
clothing, her plump tits pressed into my chest, her gleeful mewling in
my ear unleashed the monster caged within me. My hand pulled up the
skirt and fished cock from out of my pants. I jacked on my iron hard
prick about a dozen times for every two seconds and kissed my mother
on her bare neck as she held me. My free hand crossed between us and
snapped at her closest titty.

Immediately, she released me and recoiled my frantic grab, adultly
aghast at my action. She instantly composed herself for a blast of
holier than thou, but not before my dick erupted with long jets of
high pressure cum. White ropes shot between us and doused her girdle.
She jumped away, scream piercing the air, and two more blasts arced
over the table and sprayed her drawing.

"What in heaven's name are you doing?" She hollered most
un-little-girl-like. "Get out of here right now! I'll see you in ten
minutes, young man!" She drew herself high and mighty, indignation
masking her awareness of her own nakedness. I watched her tits change
from pleasant pillows to amazon armor.

I couldn't even respond until I had jerked the last of my cum load
onto the kitchen's tile floor. Only then did I jump. I didn't look
back. I raced for my room to ready myself for armageddon.

When the hammer came down, I was still praying for a way to escape of
this mess. Mother entered the room, totally concealed in a thick
bathrobe.

"I have to have a good talk with you young man. How could you have
betrayed your mother like this? You defiled the last thing that was
good between us. I should abandon you to the state and join a
Christian woman's retreat."

Her plea for sympathy fell on deaf ears. I wish I could have responded
with a few blasts of my own, but I was just an eleven year old kid
about to turn twelve. I curled up in a fetal ball on my bed. Mother's
widow dress splayed across it like a death shroud.

I kept purposefully silent, pouting. Honestly, I believed everything
she said. I felt I deserved everything she threatened. I just couldn't
admit it to her, because deep down I knew she was just as responsible
as I. Unfortunately kids rarely get the chance to examine their root
motives.

Perhaps that is why, mother gave me another chance, or at least she
said she would. "Calvin, honey. I know this must be very strange to
you. You can't imagine how mixed up I feel about our little secret,
but I'm as helpless to stop myself, as I imagine you are to ignore the
devil that lives inside you. Never-the-less, you must fight against
it. That is our only path to salvation, eternal vigilance and
continual askance for forgiveness."

She worked ourselves harder than ever for the next six days. She even
excused me from school to give me even more time to pay penance for
our crimes. On the seventh day, she fell harder than ever from her
lofty goal.

Mother woke me up from a desperately needed, deep, dreamless sleep. On
my way to the surface, I began to dream of being suffocated, and I
awoke gasping for breath. A thick pile of dark cloth buried my face. I
scrambled around in bed and flung the offending threads off of me.
Mother stood in my room, naked to her girdle. She wasn't even wearing
her thick but slightly transparent stockings. The girdle was her last
hold out. Of course the dark veils that had smothered me awake were
her clothes. When I came to my full senses, I realized they smelled
freshly washed, with only a hint of my mother's odor on them. She must
have put them on in her room and immediately stripped them in mine.

"Wake up, mommy. Wake up! I need you so bad!" She cried like the
little girl I had grown perversely familiar with. She rushed to my
side to assist me in donning her mantle. My dick may have already have
been hard in preparation for the morning, but now it was like steel.
We had long realized that I was eternally erect while she played her
escape role. We had psychically agreed not to recognized it.

I now wonder what would have happened if I had resisted her. I know I
was stronger than her on that day. I could have resisted her
temptation, but we must remember I was just a kid. Besides, she might
have gone off the deep end if she didn't get her measure of relief
from her inner conflict. What that conflict was I didn't discover
until the end of my story. For now, I will tell you that I accepted
her help. Yet while she fussed with how her clothes were arrayed on my
naked form, I ceased pretending to ignore my blood filled cock. I
would reach out and adjust it, right in front of her. I didn't
actually feel like jerking to a cum, because I was still mostly
asleep. She glanced at my fiddling between my thighs and tried to
ignore it. I noticed she gently bit her lip. A light rain ran down my
bedroom window.

Finally we managed to assemble her garb on my ill fitting figure. She
plunked her whole body down on my bed and nestled her head into my
chest.

"I'm so sorry mommy. I've been really bad. Please help me." There she
began to release a reservoir of tears. She quickly soaked her own
blouse and skirt as she tried to bury herself deeper into them and my
body.

"I held her. I had learned to love touching her. The little girl
inside my mother was desperate for human contact. Me too, but most of
my desperation originated from a fraction of my body's meat. Her soul
was bereft of any comfort. I never learned about her childhood. She
refused to speak of it. Whenever I asked she promised my childhood
would never want for anything. She meant anything she decided that was
good for me. I think my father once said she might have been a whore's
illegitimate daughter. To this day, I sorta, kinda doubt it. I think
she was abandoned within the confines of her parent's home.

I knew as long as I held her she grew strong in her heart. I held her
for at least an hour that drizzly morning. I held her close against my
never slacking prick. For some reason, that day I looked not at her
breasts but at the wide patch of white that clung to her hips. Oddly
enough, the sight of her beautiful tits trembling against my chest was
not as compelling as the spike of curiosity that stabbed my
imagination. Just what was there behind her plain, white girdle? It
seemed odd to me then, that I had never before wondered. I wasn't old
enough to have received the state's program of sex education. I never
asked my mother anything about sex, and my father had left me a legacy
of tits, ass, legs and face. He died before he was ready to talk about
more serious parts. My mother had all of those others in spades, and
only her ass was kept from me. I must therefore conclude I wasn't much
of an ass man back then.

So when I spoke up at the end of our lingering hug, I knocked at a new
door between us. I was fairly blunt for my age.

"Honey, I'm not sure I can be your mommy for real." I spoke plainly.

Her reaction was anything but plain. She recoiled like a rifle,
jerking in my arms like a gun had been fired. She looked fearfully
into my eyes, but she never broke character. "What do you mean, mommy?
Of course you are." She tried to assure herself and me.

I let her notice my gaze upon her girdle. "Don't I have to wear that
too?"

My mother kept still for longer than a moment. I actually felt her
nudge my hard cock with her hip, where she was resting against it. She
must have been near a panic about what could happen if she was truly
naked before a son who had proved himself to be a sex maniac. But the
woman that was my mother was a dozen miles away. It would take the
rest of the day to gain enough comfort to allow her return.

My little girl gulped and trembled anew in my arms. She then nodded,
unable to answer my question with a vocal assent.

All I did was sit up slightly, and she fell into the motion. She
released me and sat up on the edge of my bed. Her feet fell to the
floor. I watched her hesitate and gather her courage. She hooked her
thumbs in the girdle's tight waistband and began to peel it slowly
down her hips. Then as if a latch had fallen free, she pushed the
gripping garment from her thighs and kicked them off her feet. It
sailed across the room and out the door. With a sudden giggle, my
mother turned to me and said. "Mommy, promise me you'll never wear
that one."

What could I say? It was probably the only item of her clothes that
wouldn't hang loose. I hugged her firmly then, almost a man's hug. And
I reveled in her full nakedness. First I felt her nipples,
uncharacteristically firm, press into my blouse. A photo finish
second, I looked purposefully into my mother's loins. She blushed, but
my little girl did not deny me. Again I wanted to touch her there, but
I knew my limits. I released her and hung my head low to examine her
new revelation as closely as I dared. My mother was dark-haired
through and through. Her brown pubic hair was a thicket of briars
wherein there possibly lurked braer foxes. I couldn't discern any
other features because she kept her legs together. I didn't think to
pry them apart. I doubt I would have been allowed to touched her
knees.

I placed my hand on her shoulder and met her eyes. She was now bright
crimson, and she grabbed me for a reassuring hug.

We played all day at whatever game struck our fancy: lawn darts,
Parcheesi, cops and robbers... The house was our play house. I was
often distracted as we moved about, for I began to catch glimpses of
some very interesting anatomy. Somehow I had known that between her
legs I would not find a cock. Curiosity provoked my eyes to see what
they could of the mysterious triangle that jungled my mother's loins.
There had to be something fundamentally different about man and woman,
and tits weren't quite up to the job. When I noticed the strange lines
and lumps hidden in her dark thicket, I grew confident I had
discovered the missing link. That night, I masturbated to relieve my
backed up lusts, thinking about the new flesh that taunted me with its
mysteries. I came with powerful bursts in my head and jets of juice
from my cock.

We both were innocents, I striving to conquer my chosen mate and
failing, while she sought successfully to escape her power and
responsibility. It is the day I remember most fondly, when mother
capitulated wholeheartedly and I relented my ardor. In days thereafter
when my mother wore her garments, we both felt freer. She did not
obsess over punishment, although she still believed our swap offended
God in Heaven. She must have understood, like I did that day, that as
innocents we could be wrong and forgiven at the same time.


To Be Continued...

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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