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Subject: incest story: "Pool" {Mf, inc} 333129
From: Incest Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Date: Wed, 10 Dec 2008 00:35:46 +0000
===================
http://www.incesttabooo.com/taboo.html
Pool
Warm sun filtered through the pine trees, casting a dappled, pleasing
shade on the dark green of the lawn. Ah, this is the life, Joe
reflected as he stretched out on his beach-towel. No more college, no
more assignments, no more hassles; just sweet, idle summer, warm and
endless. He checked his watch: it was 1:33. The whole afternoon was
spread out before him. Joe plumped up his pillow and lay back,
letting the June sun warm his bare chest. He was dressed for the day
in loose summer shorts and sneakers. Sunlight sparkled off the water
in the cracked backyard pool.
Joe chuckled. The pool, his father's pride and joy. The car might be
rusty and the house might need paint, but the little pool was always
clean as a whistle. He put on his sunglasses and idly surveyed the
small yard. His mother's spindly rosebushes grew in a line along the
fence, carefully tended. His mom did what she could with them, but
they were too shaded by the big pine trees to produce many flowers.
Joe heard the bang of the screen door slamming and his heart sank. A
moment later an angry female voice cut through the heavy stillness.
"Ah, there you are! I might have known I'd find you out here, lying
about doing nothing."
Joe looked up to see his mother walking toward him, a glass of ice tea
in one hand. She made her way through the uncut grass toward him, and
Joe cursed quietly. Hassle time. "Joe, for god's sake, you can't
just spend the whole summer lying around the pool. If you want to go
back to school in the fall you had better get out there and find a
summer job. Tuition costs money, you know." Joe looked up at her.
"Mom, please, knock it off. I just got here." He studied her from
behind his glasses. His mother was wearing unflattering plaid shorts
over a white swimsuit with white tennis shoes on her feet. Her light
brown hair was pinned up to keep cool. What a bitch, he thought
grimly.
There was no doubt that Joe's mother was a good-looking woman, though.
A beauty queen in her teens, Miss State Fair or something like that,
three years running. Joe was her only child and she had kept herself
in shape over the years. Dress her up a little, Joe reflected, and
she could be a real fox. He laughed privately. A bitch and a fox.
Wouldn't that make her, let's see...a vixen! Isn't that what they
called a female fox? And Mom said he hadn't learned anything in
college.
He tuned her back in again. "....insist on lazing about instead of
getting a job you could at least raise a finger to help out around the
house. You could start by mowing the lawn; it hasn't been cut in
weeks! Then get to work on these dandelions."
Resignedly, Joe got to his feet. "OK, OK, Mom don't have a coronary,
I'll mow the damned lawn."
"And don't you ever swear at me again, young man. I am your mother,
not one of your tramp girlfriends and when you are in my house you
keep a civil tongue in your head!"
"All right, all right, I'm sorry already." Joe reached down to
retrieve his shirt. He knocked over the can of beer underneath it.
"Shit." he muttered under his breath. He tried to hide the beer can
beneath the towel but it was too late.
"Now stealing beer again too! I warned you about that enough times
already. That beer is for your father and you keep your hands off it!
You are very close to finding yourself unwelcome around here Joe!"
Joe felt his temperature rising. "For chrisakes mom, I'm old enough
to drink beer! It's legal! What's the big scandal already! You
don't have to have a cow over it. Dad drinks beer every day, why the
hell can't I?"
His mother's face was red with anger. "You can't because I say you
can't," she retorted, her voice growing louder. "You're still my son
and I'm not going to have you lying around drinking all summer long
like a common layabout. And I told you to cut out the swearing!"
It was then that Joe's temper got the better of him. "Look, you
uptight bitch, just stop telling me what to do all the time. I'll
bloody well swear if -- OW!" His mother slapped him. Hard, across
the face. Joe stopped in mid-sentence. His mother glared daggers at
him, hands on her hips.
She spoke in a low voice. "Don't you *ever* speak to me like that
again, you understand. Not ever."
Joe just stared at her, speechless. Her oval face was flushed, and
her deep brown eyes shone like hard gemstones. A strand of hair fell
loosely against her cheek. When she slapped Joe one strap from her
bathing suit had slipped off her shoulder. In the midst of his
blood-stirring anger Joe found himself looking straight at his
mother's breast, temptingly half-revealed by the falling cup of her
swimsuit. She was standing right in front of him, less than a yard
away. She was breathing deeply with her anger, and the motion of her
chest made the cup slip down a little bit more with each inhalation.
Her breast was not large but delightfully curved, standing out plump
and proud from her chest. He could see the top of the aureole, and if
the cup were to slip just a little farther....
Suddenly his mother realized where his gaze was directed. She found
the misplaced strap and hurriedly pulled it back up. "Get out." she
said coldly.
Joe was dazed. "What?"
"Get out of this house. Right now. I don't care where you go or what
you do. Just leave. Now." Her voice was glacial.
It was obviously too late to apologize. Ruefully, Joe picked up his
shirt and put it on. He walked past his mother into the house,
gathered up his wallet from the top of the dresser in his old bedroom,
and walked out the front door. His mother said nothing more until he
was gone.
Joe walked for a long time with his head down, giving no thought to
direction or destination. He wandered downtown streets, ignoring the
swirl of people and traffic all around him and gazing on but not
really seeing the merchandise displayed in shop windows. Kicked out
of the house. Just like that. One moment he was a happy young
college student on summer break, the next he was a street kid. One
fight too many with his ever-combative mother, one brief, spontaneous
indiscretion, and his summer was ruined.
Joe was still thinking these bleak thoughts as his aimless wandering
took him down a little-used side street just off the main business
district. He found himself in front of a tiny shop selling antiques
and collectibles. With nothing better to do, he went inside. The
shop was old and quaint, well-suited to its product line, and quite
filled with junk. The only person in the store was a small, old,
wispy-haired man of indiscernible ancestry, who smiled a greeting from
behind the counter.
Joe wandered the shop as he had the street, not paying much attention
to the things for sale. But one item did catch his eye. Behind a box
of Chinese jade carvings, looking forgotten, he found a small metal
pendant on a leather cord. It was a simple design, a rough circle
with a small arrow mounted in the middle. Joe picked it up. The
pendant was dusty. The arrow was designed to swing randomly about the
circle with every movement.
Joe admired the pendant for a long time. Ordinarily he didn't much
care for jewellery. He pulled out his wallet. Inside he found a
total of $8.23, including small change. He would need that to buy
food.
Joe took the pendant to the front. "How much is this?" he asked the
man behind the counter.
The man examined the pendant briefly. "$9.95 plus tax," he said, with
an accent that was definitely foreign yet impossible to place.
Joe emptied the contents of his wallet onto the counter. "This is all
I have," he said.
The old man shrugged. "Close enough."
An hour or so later, tired of walking, Joe sat on a bench in a city
park, trying to decide what to do next. His relationship with his
mother had always been stormy, to say the least, but he was past being
angry now; he would happily go home and apologize if it would do any
good. He would even mow the lawn. But something in his mother's
expression had made it clear that no apology would be accepted. He
had screwed up one time too many. For the moment at least, he was
homeless. Maybe he could find a friend's house where he could crash.
"It doesn't have to be this way," said a new voice.
Joe jumped. "Who-- what? Who said that?" He looked around in vain
for the speaker. He was all alone on the bench. Off in the distance
a plump woman was walking her dog.
"You don't have to just accept things the way they are," the voice
said again. It was deep and masculine but smoothly modulated. A
radio announcer's voice. "There are choices, alternatives. I can
help you, if you want."
Joe was still looking everywhere for the source of the voice. He
looked for a hidden microphone, in the grass and under the bench. He
even looked in the tree overhanging the bench, but there was no one
there but a crow, that flew away with a raucous cry. Joe felt the
hairs stand up on the back of his neck. "Who, who are you?" he asked
timidly.
"Names don't matter" said the voice. "I'm someone who can help you.
You're wearing my amulet."
Startled again, Joe grabbed the pewter pendant hanging around his
neck. The arrow swirled about crazily. "You--you're, like, in
there?"
"Not in the sense you're thinking. But the amulet is what allows us
to have this conversation. It's a bridge between your plain of
existence and mine, if you will. You found it because you need my
help."
Joe listened to the placid explanation, marvelling at the re-assuring
calmness of the disembodied voice. It sounded so logical, so
*reasonable*; as if transdimensional conversations were an everyday
thing.
"How do you know I need help?" Joe challenged.
"Through the amulet of course. If I am to help you I need to know the
nature of your distress."
Joe studied the amulet for a long time, trying to fathom the
conversation. The arrow spun this way and that. Was he having some
sort of breakdown? Maybe a delayed reaction to bad drugs? He hadn't
taken anything in months, unless you counted ethanol.
"You are sane and well, Joe," the voice chimed in, though he hadn't
spoken out loud. "Although your reaction is perfectly natural. Sit
down for a moment. Let me show you a way out of your predicament."
Joe sat down. In a trembling voice he asked: "What can you do?"
"I can change things. I can improve your circumstances. I offer you
alternatives. Choices. This existence is not the only possibility,
Joe. There are many, many others. I can give you the alternative you
want. If you will let me."
Joe said: "What do you mean, alternatives? What kind of
alternatives?"
"Let me show you."
Warm sun filtered through the pine trees, casting a dappled, pleasing
shade on the dark green of the lawn. Ah, this is the life, Joe
reflected as he stretched out on his padded lawn chair. No more
college, no more assignments, no more hassles; just sweet, idle
summer, warm and endless.
He bolted upright. He was in his parent's back yard again. He looked
around himself, disoriented. It was definitely his folk's house. The
pool, the pine trees, his mother's row of rose bushes, they were all
there. He looked at his watch. It read 1:33. He looked at the sun,
high overhead.
I am having one mega-flashback here, Joe decided, fighting down panic.
It must be those blue dreamers, the ones he had taken at that party.
But that had been in January, six months ago. And this flashback was
so real, so detailed. It was like he was really there.
Searching for reference points, he scrutinized the suburban yard.
Sunlight sparkled off the water in the new backyard pool. His
father's pride and joy. His mother's rosebushes grew in a tall line
along the fence, carefully tended. His mom did her best with them;
despite the light shade from the pine trees, it looked as though the
roses would bloom well again this year. Everything was exactly the
same as it had been earlier that day. Wasn't it?
Joe heard the distinctive sound of the patio door opening, and a
moment later a pleasant female voice floated on the heavy stillness.
"Ah, there you are! I might have known I'd find you out here, lying
about doing nothing."
Joe looked up to see his mother walking toward him, an open bottle of
cold beer in each hand. She made her way across the new-mown grass
toward him, smiling. "Thanks for cutting the lawn, Joe," she said.
"I know I can depend on you to help out with things like that." She
took a long drink from one sweating beer bottle.
Joe looked up at her. "Mom, I didn't --." He faltered. Something
was different. His mother was wearing a white, one-piece swimsuit,
but the bulky plaid shorts were gone. Instead of sneakers she was
wearing white pumps. The white clothing set off her perfect tan,
while the three-inch heels and high cut swimsuit emphasized her
shapely legs and trim buns. Her light brown hair was artfully pinned
up to keep cool. She would have looked good in a newspaper ad for
barbecues.
Joe studied her from behind his glasses. Hey, my mom is quite a
looker, he realized. In this garb it was easy to see how she had won
all those beauty contests. Who could resist that figure? She was in
a better mood too. Less bitch, more fox, he thought wryly. This was
some strange flashback.
"Mind if I join you?" Joe's mother said, dropping into the lounge
chair beside him. "It's too pleasant a day to work." She popped on a
pair of white-rimmed sunglasses and took another pull from her beer.
"Oh, sorry Joe, I brought you one too." She handed him the other
bottle.
Joe was confused. "You don't-- you don't mind?"
"Mind? Why would I mind? You're old enough to drink beer after all.
And you deserve a reward for mowing the lawn."
Joe took the proffered bottle. "Thanks, Mom!" They drank together.
Joe's mother stretched out on the padded lounge chair and closed her
eyes. "Mmmmm, this is so nice," she murmured. "I could just lie her
all afternoon." She still had her shoes on.
Lying next to her, Joe felt uncomfortably aware of his mother's
nearness. She was lying with one leg bent slightly, and Joe found his
gaze tracing the smooth curves of her calf up past the knee to the
trim, well-tanned thigh disappearing beneath white spandex only inches
away from.... He swallowed hard and turned his thoughts and his eyes
away.
After a moment his mother finished her beer and turned over, folding
her arms beneath her cheek. As she did so one strap from the sexy
swimsuit slipped off her shoulder. Joe turned to say something,
wondering how long this flashback was going to last, when he found
himself looking again at his mother's half-bare breast.
"Oh shit," he breathed. The falling cup of the swimsuit uncovered the
top half of one darling breast, full and round and tempting. She was
less than three feet away, and Joe drank in the sight. He just
couldn't help himself. Smiling, eyes closed, his mother stirred
slightly, turned a little toward him. The cup slipped further. Now
he could see the aureole and maybe the top of the nipple, red-brown
and puckered. So beautiful. So very near....
"Oh shit." he said again.
His mother opened her eyes. "Something wrong, Joe?" Then her gaze
fell to where Joe was looking. But instead of getting mad, she
giggled. "Oops! Showing a little extra there," she said, laughing.
She pulled the offending strap back into place. "Sorry. This suit
doesn't fit quite right on top. Guess I gave you a bit of a show
there, huh?" Her brown eyes twinkled.
Joe felt his pulse hammering in his temples. He was short of breath.
"Mom, I, I -- I have to leave!" he blurted and jumped to his feet.
"I have to go, uhm, I have to go, like, out." Turning quickly to hide
his erection, he dashed into the house, grabbed his wallet and bolted
out the front door to --
-- find himself sitting on a bench in the park.
"See what I mean?" said the voice.
Joe looked about him. "What happened?"
"It is as I explained. I manipulate reality. I give you choices.
You just have to choose the one you want."
"Back there. My mother." He gestured helplessly. "Did you do that?"
"I showed you an alternative reality. One in which your mother is a
little more relaxed. Perhaps that is what you want."
"I just want to go home. To stop fighting all the time."
"Are you quite sure?" the voice said conversationally. "Perhaps you
want more than that without realizing it. Perhaps the real problem is
that you are in love with your mother."
"I am not!" Joe proclaimed, angry. "That's ridiculous. That would
be incest! That's sick! I just want to have a normal life. And
besides she's twice my age, and she's a complete bitch. She's a
nagging, complaining, uptight drone. She's a....a...."
"A vixen?"
"Yes!"
"Perhaps you don't realize the strength of your desire," the voice
countered. "Why don't we take another look at earlier this afternoon.
Maybe with your mother a little more relaxed."
"NO! Wait! I don't want you to --"
"-- do that!" he said to the pine trees.
Warm sun filtered through the stately trees, casting a dappled,
pleasing shade on the dark green of the lawn. The June sun warmed
Joe's bare chest; he was lying on a kind of thick outdoor mattress
with a comfortable pillow built in.
Joe sat up and looked around. It was definitely his parent's back
yard again. Sunlight played on the flowerbeds and sparkled off the
big, kidney-shaped pool. The pool, his father's pride and joy. His
mother's hybrid roses grew in neat rows along the fence, carefully
tended. His mom did her best with them, and the bushes looked set to
cover themselves with blossoms again this year. The sun was high
overhead. He looked at the underwater watch on his wrist: it was
1:33.
Joe heard the distinctive sound of the patio door opening, and a
moment later a sultry female voice floated on the heavy stillness.
"Ah, there you are! I was hoping I'd find you out here, relaxing for
once."
He looked up to see his mother walking toward him, a glass in one hand
and a bottle in the other. "Wow-wow-wow!" he mumbled to himself.
His mother's white swimsuit was gone. In its place she wore a white
bikini, a chic little number with big gold rings on each hip and
another between her breasts. Instead of simple pumps she was now
wearing white platform sandals with impractically high stacked heels.
The sandals had no ankle strap, despite the heels, forcing Joe's mom
to take mincing, hip-wiggling steps, an inconvenience that didn't seem
to trouble her at all.
As she shuffled toward him through the lush, weedless grass, Joe
reflected that she wasn't wearing the bikini to go swimming. That was
obvious from the white necklace and matching white pendant earrings
brushing her shoulders, and the several rings on her fingers. She was
wearing bright lipstick and subtle, artfully applied make-up that
further enhanced her natural beauty. Her long brown hair was pinned
up for summer with a gold barrette that matched the bikini.
Joe couldn't take his eyes off her. What a fox! It was obvious how
she had won all those beauty contests, and made such a good living as
a model. Who could resist those curves, or those long, kissable lips?
"Mind if I join you, honey?" Joe's mother said, settling onto the
padded mat beside him. "It's just too pleasant a day to work." She
took a healthy sip from her glass and immediately topped it up again.
"How 'bout a drink?" She held out the bottle.
"No, uhm, thanks Mom," Joe replied, "I uhm, I already have a beer."
He picked up the tall bottle of imported brew beside him.
His mother shrugged. "OK. More for me, I guess," she said
cheerfully. She put down the bottle and rolled over on her side,
propping her head on one elbow. "How about a toast," she said. "To
my handsome son; may he enjoy every day of his summer holidays."
Joe clinked his bottle against her glass. "Thanks, Mom!" They drank
together.
Joe's mother stretched out on the mat and closed her eyes. "Mmmmm,
this is sooo nice," she murmured. "I could just lie her with you all
afternoon." She sipped her drink, then began to run the glass down
the side of her face, slowly and deliberately. Joe watched as the
glass moved lower, across her neck and down one shoulder. She made
little "mmmmm" sounds as she stroked herself with the cool glass. She
was unconsciously rubbing one leg against the other. Her pure white
sandals had soles two inches high.
By the time his mother began sliding the glass lazily across the top
of her chest, Joe was watching, spellbound. Eyes closed, she caressed
herself with the moist glass, stroking slowly across the tops of her
tits left uncovered by the sexy bikini. Finally she raised the glass
to her lips and drained the remaining liquor.
She caught her son gawking at her. "Be careful, honey," she said
teasingly. "You'll spill your beer." Just in time Joe remembered the
half-full bottle in his hand and jerked it back upright. His mother
giggled and reached over for her bottle again. As she did so one
strap of her bikini top slipped off her shoulder.
Oh please god don't do this to me, Joe thought desperately. Once
again he had a ringside view of his mother's bountiful breast,
spilling saucily out of the too-small cup of her bikini. He licked
his lips, unable to stop himself from staring. Her breast was so
well-shaped, so deliciously orbed, designed and intended to be fondled
and kissed and sucked. Joe groaned as his mother, oblivious to her
disarray, carefully poured herself another brimming glass of liquor.
She reached over to put the bottle down, presenting Joe with her
errant breast in a portfolio of different angles and positions. He
groaned again. She was so achingly beautiful, and so close beside him
he could reach out and touch....
His mother noticed his rapt gaze. "Something wrong, Joe?" she asked
in a teasing voice. Her eyes fell to where Joe was looking.
"Oopsie!" she said, a little tipsy from the drinks. "Sorry, honey; I
guess I've been putting on a bit of a show, huh?" She didn't sound
sorry at all. She pulled the offending strap carelessly back into
place. She sipped her drink and it fell down again.
Lying beside her, Joe was starting to squirm. He tried to think of a
good excuse to leave, but his mother's bare breast held him like a
magnet. He flexed his hips, automatically trying to adjust his cock
to a more comfortable position. Unfortunately his mother noticed.
"Why Joe, honey, what's wrong?" she asked solicitously. Is your
swimsuit too tight?" She was looking directly at his crotch.
Joe looked down, and was startled to discover he was not wearing
shorts any more. Instead he wore only a pair of sexy black swimming
trunks, whose tight fabric revealed the exact outline of his distended
cock. The embarrassment he felt at raising a hard-on from his own
mother, and having her notice it, was still not enough to make the
erection go down. "I'm sorry, Mom," he said contritely. "I can't
help it. I didn't mean to, you know..." His mother's bikini top was
still half off and he left the sentence unfinished.
"Oh, you poor boy," Joe's mother cooed, putting down her drink. "Look
how big you are. Let me just--" she hesitated a moment. "Maybe I
can, ah, help you. OK, honey?" Impulsively she reached out with one
hand and ran the tips of her fingers along the length of his shaft.
Joe twitched helplessly. "Mom, please, don't!"
"Mmmmm, honey, you're soooo big, soooo hard. Does this feel better?"
She was using her whole hand now.
"Mom, oh god please!"
His mother stroked faster. "So nice," she muttered, "so big and hard
and nice nice nice!"
"Mom! Oh shit Mommmmmm!" Joe cried as she drove him over the top and
he shot his load into his swimsuit.
"There is no point in denying it," the voice said, as unflappable as
ever. "Your mom gives you the hots."
Joe looked around the little park. He was sitting on the bench again.
The wind rustled leaves in the tree. Across the way a man without a
shirt was throwing a frisbee to his dog. Joe took a deep breath, let
it out slowly. "I--, I--, no, wait. That can't be. That isn't
right. You changed her. You changed everything." "You can have her,
Joe. As your lover, your slave, any way you want. I can give her to
you. You just have to let me."
"No, I don't want that!" Joe said vehemently.
"Look inside yourself, Joe. You know the truth. Just choose the
alternative that pleases you. Let me help you."
"I tell you I don't want my mother!" Joe shouted, forgetting for a
moment he was in a public place. "I don't want that at all. No.
That's all wrong. I, I just want to go home."
"I see you are still denying what we both know to be true. Let's try
one more time, shall we?"
Warm sun filtered through the tall pine trees, casting a dappled,
pleasing shade on the dark green of the lawn. The June sun warmed
Joe's bare chest. He looked around his parent's huge backyard again.
Sunlight played on the ornate flowerbeds, caught the water spraying
from the fountain, and sparkled off the Olympic-sized swimming pool.
Ah, the pool, his father's pride and joy. His mother's beds of hybrid
roses grew in neat green rows near the stone fence, carefully tended.
The gardeners did their best with them; his mother would probably win
more prizes this year. The sun was high overhead. He looked at the
gold watch on his wrist: it was 1:33. The inscription on the back of
the watch, he knew, said, "Love from Mom".
Joe heard the tinkle of the wind chimes over the french doors, and a
moment later a breathy, feminine voice floated on the heavy stillness.
"Oh, there you are, baby! I was hopin' I'd find you."
He looked up to see his mother ambling toward him, a glass in one hand
and a half-empty bottle in the other. His jaw dropped. He worked his
mouth to spout exclamations, but nothing came out. His mother was
wearing a white designer bikini, skimpier than before, and her
platform sandals had been replaced with skintight, shiny, white boots
that ended near the top of her thighs. Joe moaned with ill-contained
lust. He had a major weakness for boots.
As she stumbled toward him through the lush, manicured grass, Joe
drank in her curvaceous form with his eyes. He no longer needed to
worry about a shoulder strap falling down, because this bikini didn't
have any. Instead it had two long strips of white fabric that
half-heartedly covered her abundant breasts, bound together by a gold
ring between them. The ring was decorated with rhinestones, as were
the matching rings on each hip of the bikini bottom. She wore a
stylish white necklace and matching pendant earrings. Precious stones
glittered in the rings on her fingers. She was wearing bright
lipstick and subtle, artfully applied make-up that further enhanced
her natural beauty. Her long brown hair was pinned up for summer with
a white barrette that matched the bikini, but some of it had slipped
out, to fall beguilingly across one shoulder.
Try as he might, Joe couldn't take his eyes off her. What an
incredible woman! Her every move was a symphony of curves that seemed
to broadcast sexual heat in all directions. In that get-up it was
obvious how she had won all those beauty contests, and been so wildly
popular as a centrefold model in men's magazines. Who could resist
those curves, that face, that air of barely contained sexuality?
"Min' if I join you, baby?" Joe's mother said, in that same husky
voice. She stood beside the double chaise lounge, swaying unsteadily
in her vamp-heeled boots.
Joe just gawked at her, stupefied. At long last he found his voice
long enough to squeak, "What? Oh, yeah, sure, O-OK."
She settled lazily onto the lounge beside him. "I's jus' too nize a
day t' work." she said, her words slurred. She took a healthy sip
from her glass and immediately topped it up again, spilling some.
"Whoops!" she said, and giggled. She turned over on her side, close
beside her son, and propped herself up on one elbow. "How 'bout l'il
drink?" She held out the bottle.
"No, uhm, thanks Mom," Joe replied, trying without success to avoid
staring at her straining bikini top, "I uhm, I already have a beer."
He picked up the tall bottle of imported brew beside him.
His mother giggled again. "OK baby. More f' me, I guess," she said
cheerfully. She put down the bottle where she could reach it, and
leaned over very close. "Then how 'bout a toast," she husked. "To my
son the hanshome stud; may he *enjoy* *every day* of his summer
holidays." Her whispered voice dripped with double meaning, and Joe
felt his hormone balance go off the scale. To emphasize her point,
his inebriated mother deliberately slid one white-booted leg across
his lap, and began to rub it teasingly back and forth against his
swimsuit. Joe already had a massive hard-on. "Th,Thanks, Mom!" Joe
responded in a quaking voice, clinking his bottle against her glass.
They drank together.
Joe's mother stretched luxuriously, turning over further so she was
almost lying on top of her son. "Mmmmm, this is sooo nice," she
murmured. "I could jus' lie here all af'ernoon. With you." Her hips
were moving back and forth, an inch each way. Sunlight glistened on
the slick boots. She drained her drink, then regarded the melting ice
cubes sadly. "Joe, baby, pour me 'nother drink, won't you?" she
pouted.
To get at the bottle Joe had to reach across his mother's body, a
movement that inevitably brought her capacious chest against his. His
mother made no move to get away. Joe could smell her perfume, and
feel the warm closeness of her cheek. His cock twitched. At last he
retrieved the bottle and refilled her glass while his mother regarded
him with hot brown eyes.
"Thanks, honey," she cooed, stroking his arm. "You're always so
*good* to your mommy." She smiled suggestively and sipped her drink.
Joe put the nearly empty bottle where he could reach it more easily.
As he turned back he tried to avoid both looking up, into his mother's
eyes, or looking down, at those incredible, thigh-high boots that were
driving him crazy. Instead his gaze landed on the straining top of
his mother's skimpy bikini.
"Oh no," he breathed.
Somehow while he was reaching around her for the bottle, the top of
her bikini had been knocked askew. It had slipped off one breast
revealing the red, distended nipple that perched on her magnificent
mammary like a ripe cherry on a half-melon. It was just a foot away
and it drew him like a moth to a flame. It begged to be touched, to
be nibbled and licked. If he leaned forward, just a little, and stuck
out his tongue....
His mother noticed his rapt gaze. "Something wrong, baby?" she asked
in a bedroom voice. She pretended to just now notice where Joe was
looking. "Oh, my my. No wonder your starin', baby. She toyed with
the fabric of her bikini top without really accomplishing anything.
"Thish top dozen fit very well," she said indifferently, setting down
her drink. Joe's eyes tracked the movement of her half-bare breast.
"Here, le's jus' get rid of it." In a moment she had unfastened the
gold ring and the little string of fabric lay on the grass.
"Oh, Mom!" Joe gasped as her heavy chest came into full view.
Still leaning close to him, his mother hefted her tits in each hand.
"guesh you really like your mommy's boobs, huh baby?" she teased. "I
remember you loved to suck on 'em when you were l'il baby. Her voice
dropped to a whisper. "Why don' you suck on 'em now?"
Before Joe could respond she had closed the gap between them,
thrusting one boob into his waiting mouth. Surrendering to the
forbidden lust coursing through him, Joe began to lick and suck on the
red nipple, reaching out to squeeze the free tit with his hand. His
mother leaned her head back and sighed contentedly. "Oh, yes yes yes,
baby, that feels soooo good."
Joe sucked and squeezed with abandon, nibbling his mother's nipple and
tonguing her whole breast, then sucking in as much as he could while
his lips worked the soft flesh. He whimpered like a baby when she
pulled the breast away, and sighed happily when it was replaced with
the other one.
When they managed to separate a few minutes later they were both
breathing hard. "Oh, Joe baby that feels so wonnerful," his mother
panted. "But lookit you! Your swimsuit is so tight!" She was
looking directly at his crotch.
Joe looked down, where his mother was still gently stroking him with
one boot-covered leg, and was no longer surprised to discover he was
wearing a different pair of swimming trunks, a tight-fitting G-string
like the ones competitive swimmers wore. It didn't cover anything
more than it had to, and right now he was so tumescent that the tip of
his glans was peaking out of the waistband.
"Oh, you darling boy," Joe's mother cooed, reaching down to boldly
fondle his erection "Look how *big* you are! 's'all that for me?"
She ran the tips of her fingers along the length of his shaft.
Joe twitched helplessly. "Mom, please, I'm so horny!"
"Mmmmm, baby, I can see that. Lemme help you, OK?" She turned
sideways on the chaise lounge and brought her face down near his
crotch. Then she carefully peeled off his swimsuit and pulled it down
his legs. It landed on the grass beside her bikini.
"Such a nice cock, baby" she cooed, stroking him with both hands.
"Soooo hard; sooo nize. Gotta gimme somma that!" She lowered her red
lips to the tip of his cock and sucked him in eagerly.
Joe's back arched and he bucked his hips upward. "Oh, Mom, please,
suck me!" he cried, as his mother's head bobbed up and down on his
shaft. More hair slipped out of her braid but she was too busy to
notice. She stuffed her mouth with his cock, taking him in to the
back of her throat, sucking with noisy abandon.
"Mom! Oh shit Mommmmmm!" Joe cried as he felt the first stirrings of
a mind-blowing climax building within him. "Huh?" he grunted,
suddenly feeling cool air on his cock. His mother had let him slip
out of her mouth. She leaned over him now, panting, eyes half-closed,
a drop of saliva hanging on the corner of her mouth.
"I gotta have you, baby," she husked. "You gotta fuck your mommy!"
Without waiting for an answer she sat up and swung one leg over his
hips, straddling him, one butter-smooth boot pressing against each
leg. Lifting herself up a little, she reached down with one hand and
pulled the fabric of her bikini bottom aside, and with the other she
lifted Joe's cock, still glistening with her saliva, and aimed it
upward. Then with a moan of lustful need she lowered herself on to
her son, sliding his cock deep inside her. "Fuck your mommy," she
groaned, as she started to ride.
Joe put his hands around her waist to steady her as his mother bucked
and jumped on top of him, fucking her son with animal enthusiasm in
the middle of their backyard. Yelping cries of "yes, yes, yes!"
spilled from her throat. She threw back her head, arched her back,
and reached back to grab her ankles with her hands, trying desperately
to take more and more of Joe's pounding cock. The half-moons of her
boobs bounced proudly on her chest, until Joe reached up and squeezed
them lovingly in his hands.
Joe could feel his orgasm building when his mother suddenly changed
position, bending over him for a sloppy, hungry kiss while she thrust
her wide hips backwards onto his wang. "Fuck me, baby," she chanted
wildly, "fuck Mommy hard. Your Mommy needs you so bad!
They were both pounding away now, bouncing and thrusting with such
energy it threatened to topple the lounge chair. Joe grabbed his
mother's hips again and pressed her down onto him. "I'm gonna come
Mom!" he shouted, "can't last much longerrrr. Oh shit, here it
comes, oh god Mommmmmmmm!" He almost screamed as the orgasm hit him.
With a grunt from deep in his belly, he came, firing all his pent-up
lust and frustration into his mother's lovenest like a blast from a
canon. She stayed with him all the way, gasping and moaning as he
shot his seed into her. At last, as the crest slowly subsided, Joe's
mom leaned down, sighing, for one more long, wet, tongue-entwining
kiss.
The sun was hanging low in the west, casting long shadows through the
park. Joe sat motionless on the bench, head bent, breathing deeply,
recovering from his colossal orgasm. A couple of young mothers passed
by, pushing baby strollers and chatting about nothing.
"Ready to decide now?" came the voice.
Joe held the amulet in one hand. The arrow flitted this way and that
like a compass gone berserk. So many different directions. So many
alternatives.
"I'm ready" Joe said.
It was late evening by the time Joe arrived back at his parent's
house, but the long summer twilight still lingered in the western sky.
He walked up the curved walkway to the address he knew so well. He
tried the door. It was unlocked. He stepped inside.
"Oh, thank goodness your home," came a female voice. Joe looked up to
see his mother standing in the hall. "I was afraid you wouldn't come
back."
"Mom, are you still mad?"
"No, I'm not mad any more Joe. I guess we both lost our tempers this
afternoon." She stepped up to him. "But now you're home, so let's
let bygones be bygones."
Joe smiled. "Thanks, Mom. It's good to be home." They embraced
warmly. As he hugged his mother to him, Joe let one hand slide down
her back, over her derriere and down her thigh, until he felt the top
of her white, skintight boot.
She wasn't wearing anything else.
"Oh baby I've missed you," Joe's mother said. She kissed him long and
hard. "Come on, baby," she urged when their lips finally separated,
"your father won't be home for hours." She took his hand and led him
toward the bedroom.
Far away, in a time and a place beyond any that we can know, a
disembodied voice laughed, loud, long and wicked.
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