Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
My name maiden name was Mona Coit; a moaner during coitus. That’s an unintended pun my parents made, because I have always been vocal during sex, even when I masturbate. I guess it runs in the family, I remember hearing my folks making love on occasion. Though, that was rarely and even then they tried to mask the sounds with music or a fan going or some other noise. It didn’t work, but I respected their privacy and their room was at the other end of the house I grew up in, so I seldom listened in.
But both were making those primitive sounds we all make when screwing. Mom especially would tell dad how she wanted it. I don’t know if it’s from hearing her or just genetic that I do that too. But this story is not about them, it’s about my son and I. Maybe if I had been the silent type, what happened would not have. But I’m not, and it did, and we did. Yes, we fucked – committed incest. I didn’t intend for our actions to lead to our relationship, however since we crossed the line, there is no going back.
I’m now forty-two; we have been intimate for just under a year now. It happened last summer, when Jeff, my son, returned home freshly graduated from prep school. Ready to go to an Ivy League college in the fall. So he took the summer off, no camp counseling, no summer job, lazy bum time. Why not? We didn’t need the money; his father’s insurance had left us well off, that and the investments we had made. I worked high end real estate in a fancy community of Connecticut and made damn good money. On top of all that, the house was willed to us by my folks, and we had lived in it since they retired to Florida, so finances were not any problem.
Both my folks were gone now and my husband too. Dad had a massive stroke and mom and my husband both died of cancer. My spouse most tragically three years ago. He would have been 45 in September. So it’s just Jeff and I, in a big house, all by ourselves. Except that he was gone for most of the school year, of course. Therefore, I wasn’t used to him being around the house. That summer I forgot sometimes that he was home and several times walked around in just my panties and bra. When he came upon me in such a state of undress we didn’t make a big deal of it and I would go and put on a robe.
On the other hand Jeff would parade in his jockeys in the morning for breakfast or at night going to the bathroom. It didn’t bother me, except when he had a woodie in the AM. The damn thing nearly would pop the tip above the waist band it was so long. One time we even had an encounter when we both were nude. I had been taking a shower and had neglected to close the door all the way, so as to let out the steam. Just as I got out of the shower and was reaching to grab a towel – in walked my son – naked as a jay bird. With a full blown erection.
Now I know the natural thing for a gal to do is to cover up the best she can and snap up the nearest towel for modesty. But I didn’t. I was like a deer caught in the headlights; I froze at the sight of his gorgeous cock. I admit that I had been curious at what lurked beneath the briefs. I had always found the male member a thing of fascination. He stood there, an Adonis, a Greek statue, but at attention like the ancients didn’t ever carve. It was more like those on the Hindu temples showing sex acts. However, this was not stone but turgid living flesh. I hadn’t seen a man’s dick in three years, and this was a beaut of a boner.
For his part he made the most of the long minute we stared at one another. My body was still in fair shape having played tennis with my gal-pals, and gone to the gym in the mornings for one exercise group or another. My husband used to compare me to Tinkerbelle, a spritely blond with a good bust and slim hips. Jeff made a direct survey of my charms, the pink tipped melons and the wispy golden triangle of my pussy. I felt myself getting strangely tingly between my legs – as my nipples hardened and I blushed. If it had been his dad, I would have jumped his bones right there and then. It was a hot moment.
But Jeff finally retreated, saying, “Sorry, mom, I didn’t think you were in here, since the door was open. I was going to take a shower.” (Our home was 2&1/2 baths but this was the only one that had an enclosed shower equipped with a big adjustable head. It was off my master bedroom, the other downstairs just had a tub/shower and no frills.) “Unless you want to share one?” he offered.
“No, Jeffy!” I replied. “I’m finished, thank you very kindly . . .” I said with a tone indicating I would not go for that. The very idea of taking a shower with my grown son!!
“Nice bod!” The young rascal called back through the door he closed behind him. The kid was getting more smart mouthed as the summer progressed.
“Remember, I used to change your diapers. I’ve seen your butt naked more times that you can count!”
“Yeah? Well how’s it look now?” And he stuck his hind-end back through, mooning his mom. I looked at the ass that poked out from behind the door. canlı bahis I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he had a big silly grin on it. I had to admit, he always had a great set of buns, and now they made my mouth water – or somewhere else on my body moisten!
“And if you don’t want that thing paddled, just like I did when you were little, you’ll get gone and give me some privacy. I’ll let you know when it’s your turn.” I said with a laugh. But his buns were scrumptious. “Stop being so cheeky with your old mom!” I said as I heard him leave finally.
“Ta ta to the ta-tas,” he called
Later I wondered if that incident had been so innocent; if it had been merely accidental or more of a deliberate attempt to get a gander at me stripped. Well, he certainly got what he came for. To ogle me, and show off his prick and muscular physique too? If so it worked. If his purpose was to get his mother interested in his body that had done the trick. I wasn’t warm for his form right then – but in light of subsequent events, it had the desired effect.
I came home early one day from work. My schedule varied; as showing the properties was on the clients’ available time, so my hours were not regular. I arrived and entered the house, as I passed Jeff’s room on the way to mine; I heard something through his door. I try to respect his privacy, but this was something that stopped me in my tracks. It was a female’s voice. At first I thought he had a date over and they were making out. But in a moment I realized the gal was having an orgasm! I kept listening, out of motherly curiosity – don’t want the kid to get some girl knocked-up. However, as I listen for a moment, I could tell that it was not live but recorded on tape. ‘Ah-Ha!’ I thought, ‘He’s got a porno tape on.’
But then I heard the woman cry out, “Ooh! Yess!! Deeper, harder . . . hard and deep” I know just how she feels, I thought to myself. Then I had the psychological equivalent of a bucket of ice-water dumped on my brain. I knew how that felt because – IT WAS ME!!
That was me; that is, a recording of me, cumming! The tape played on even though my mind was completely stopped. “Deeper, deeper . . . I want you deep, give it to me as hard as you can – oh god fuck me . . . fuck me now with your hard cock . . . pound my pussy, make me cum, make me cum nooww!! Yes, yess, YES I’M CUMMING . . . UH UUHH!!” I listened to myself finishing my orgasm with heavy panting; giving way to little coo’s and murmurs. It had been a good one!
I acted without thinking. I grabbed the knob and swung the door open. There was my son, naked on his bed, his hand on his dick, his penis oozing white goo, his eyes closed, his breath ragged, his climax obvious, his oblivion complete – he didn’t know I was seeing him in the aftermath of masturbating. I immediately realized that any confrontation would be totally embarrassing to us both, that I didn’t have the slightest idea of what to say or how to deal with the situation. I closed the door silently and went to my room.
I locked the door to my bedroom – not that I expected him to try to come in, but in an irrational reaction to protect my privacy. When to think of it – I had invaded his. I couldn’t imagine where he had gotten a recording of me having a climax. I sounded like that often enough when his father had fucked me – had his dad made a tape of our love-making? I didn’t think so. Why was he listening to his mother’s orgasm, didn’t he have any video pornography? How often had he done this? My head was filled with questions.
I took a couple of aspirin in the bathroom. I lay down and tried to sort things out in my head. It must have been when I masturbated one night. Perhaps a couple of weeks ago when I thought he was out and had given myself a real workout with my dildos. (Hey! A gal gets horny too!) But how? A micro recorder under the bed? A wireless mike hooked to a receiver? Then I realized the simple answer. Whatever the mechanism the tape was on, it was by way of the household intercom that was able to be either a baby monitor or call everybody to dinner or play the radio in any room. Seventies technology – true, but still in working order and effective enough to do the job, as I heard for myself.
Other questions arose, how often had he done that? Was he thinking of me – or was it just the sound of a female climaxing that was his turn on. How many recordings of me did he have? Should I confront him, or not? How should I handle this, ought I to put a stop to it? How would he like it if the tables were turned? Stupid question – he’d like it. Well, I had sort of, hadn’t I? There was Jeff, with his nice big (seven incher?) cock stroking and jism running out. I had always liked to watch a guy jerk-off; my boyfriends, my husband, once I even caught my brother and he did it while I looked on. Sure fellas didn’t mind a girl watching, it fueled their fantasies.
I used to even get my husband to do it as a form of foreplay, then before he would blast, I hopped on and finished bahis siteleri him off; cumming myself with a nice explosion. I was one of those gals that liked visual stimulus. Jeff’s image reformed in my imagination and I saw him in my mind’s eye stoking the pink tower of power. I unconsciously reached between my legs under my skirt and stuck my hands into my panties. “Yes, Jeffy, do it for mommy!” I said softly. The words said out loud startled me. Was I thinking about my own son? Yes I was – well who could blame me? When I realized that I was diddling myself, I didn’t stop – it felt too nice being nasty.
The image of his body that time in the bathroom floated up. I thought about what if he had started to masturbate while looking at his naked mother. And what if I had also touched myself too, in front of my sexy son? God I was wet, as my finger rubbed the nub of my clit. I lay on my bed and the fantasy continued. I saw him reach over and stroke my nipples, he was getting close, I knew the signs. My finger entered my vagina, both real and his digit in my dream. He began to spew thick cream, and my spasm over took me as I lifted my hips off the bed and ached for a man to fill me, fuck me, make me – take me over the brink into ecstasy.
I lay there panting for long minutes, sweating and astounded at what I had just done. I felt slightly guilty for my lascivious thoughts. At the same time I wondered if I could use the same trick to listen to my son on the sly, while he masturbated. Wouldn’t that be naughty? Wouldn’t that be delicious?
Not that night, I figured we had both gotten our jollies, but the next night I set up the intercom to listen in on my son. It took a couple of evenings though before I once more heard sounds that were him getting into bed and then begin to listen to his secret tape of his mother. I had my dildos ready; I have several, vibrating ones, one that fits on a finger, etc. That evening I chose the one molded from a porn star with the ‘natural feel’. It reminded me the most of my son’s cock, it was almost its twin, all seven inches. The surreptitious nature of the spying and the eroticism of a forbidden foray into incest fantasy gave my libido a zing. I lay naked on my bed as I knew Jeff was on his, and as he listened to me on the recording – I listen to him on the intercom.
I could hear me moaning on the tape and my son saying, “Please mom, you’re so beautiful, just let me see you again, like that time in the bathroom?” I got wet remembering that too. I moved the dildo on my clit. “Yes, mom, let me kiss you; I can make you feel so good . . .” So he was thinking about me! “Just let me put the tip in? Just to see what it’s like . . . I promise I won’t go too far, just the tip mom?” I moved the dildo, which I now thought of as ‘Jeffy’, down to my vagina and slipped the tip in – following Jeff’s fantasy. “Oh you’re so hot and wet, mommy!” Indeed, I was! “Does it feel good? Maybe a little more, just half way, Okay?” I knew he couldn’t resist his mommy’s pussy. I used ‘Jeffy’ to put another inch in. I amazed myself; here I was simulating fucking my son, while I simultaneously listened to him pretending to screw me.
I could tell by the sounds from the speaker that my son was beginning to make long strokes on that sweet meat tube at his loins by the slap-slap of his fist beating a steady rhythm. I use the artificial penis in my vagina in like measure. Then I heard myself crying out, “Ooh! Yess!! Deeper, harder . . . hard and deep” The recording had reached that part where I was about to climax. And I was right there too, I was ready for him to thrust strongly and fully, the ‘Jeffy’ prick pushed up to my womb again and again. The tape said the words for me. “Deeper, deeper . . . I want you deep; give it to me as hard as you can”
Jeff himself was now crying out, “Yes mom!! I need to fuck you – oh god! Fuck me mommy!!
“Oh god fuck me . . . fuck me now with your hard cock”, the tape played, I whimpered softly, “Yes . . .yess – oh do it to mommy!” I heard, “Pound my pussy, make me cum, make me cum nooww!!
Jeff said in unison with my pleadings, “Yeah mom! We’re doing it, I’m making you cum, I’m cumming with mommy. Jeffy is cumming in you! Ahh! Uh . . Uh . . . uuhhh!!!
And I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Yes Jeff, Yes, yess, YES I’M CUMMING Cum in me sweet baby, Oh Jeffy. . . UH UUHH!!” The dildo was making me froth with action as my hand moved it in a frenzy to and fro in my cunt. I came so hard that my back arched and my feet clenched, as I pictured my son over me and pounding his stiff staff deep into my vagina and letting loose a big, hot dollop of jism.
Then all that I heard was Jeff and myself (both live and recorded) panting heavily and making those little cooing sounds and soft murmurs. It had been a good one! For both of us. – But – Had he heard me down the hall? I had screamed – had the recording drowned out my real orgasm, had Jeff been so preoccupied with his own climax and calling out that he bahis şirketleri missed the fact that I was participating in his imagined screwing of his mommy? Or did he detect that there were two people in the house masturbating to the same fantasy?
Oh god! What if he had heard me? Would he come and find me in my bedroom, on the bed, with my legs spread wide open, with a fleshy dildo still up my pussy? He then would know I also had been guilty of incestuous desires. That his mommy had the hots for him too! Would he pull out the ‘Jeffy’ fake dick and plug in the real one?
I couldn’t let that happen . . . now that the heat of the moment was over . . . I realized that letting my son fuck me for real would be a disaster. At least a development I would have no idea how to handle. No, I would not let that come – cum – about. Fantasy was one thing, but actually crossing the line was completely something else. I listened intently. But I heard nothing from the intercom. Did that mean he was coming down the hall even now? Then I relaxed as I heard the soft sounds of snoring. Wasn’t that just like a man? To fall asleep after sex – no cuddling, no after-play, no going down to finish me off. Even if it was imaginary. Well, I had my vibrator – I switched it on and gave myself another little cum before falling asleep too.
In the morning, I got up and took a quick shower, threw on the first night gown that came to hand out of the dresser and went downstairs to the kitchen. A little while latter Jeff appeared, but he said nothing to indicate he had any suspicion of what had been a mutual – abet in separate rooms – masturbation session. He was in his underpants as usual. No morning woody, I was a little disappointed to observe. I guessed he wore it out the night before, thinking about being in his mom. I poured him a glass of orange juice and got him out the jelly for his toast. He followed my movements, a peculiar look on his face.
As I fixed him a poached egg I could feel his gaze on me as he ate. I put the plate in front of him, bending down to see if he would steal a gander at my breasts. Sure enough, he did. As I was placing the dish I glanced at his crotch, my prince’s scepter was bulging prominently in his drawers. And Jiminy! It was now poking the tip above the elastic, a bright russet plum with the hole glistening with a drop of clear pre-cum dew. What had gotten the boy so worked up about, since he sat down? The thin fabric outlined the straining staff; I was mesmerized for a moment.
Then his voice brought me back, “Gosh, mom you are so beautiful this morning!”
I smiled, “Thanks, sweetie. Have a good sleep?”
“Yeah, I did. You?”
“Oh I had wonderful dreams last night of a handsome knight who came and … (‘boy did he ever come’, I thought to myself) “and he . . .”, I stalled as I saw Jeff smirk at the word ‘came’. I wasn’t the only one of us thinking in double entendres this morning. “And he carried me away to an enchanted kingdom where we lived happily ever after.” I finished. (‘I certainly got carried away by your fantasy’, went through my risqué brain.) But I didn’t dare say such a thing out loud and give my son the wrong – eh, the right but naughty impression.
I sat down to take a sip of my coffee and for a moment had a little fantasy of my own. I pictured going over to my athletic son and pulling his skivvies right off, exposing the rude rod that was already rearing its sexy head. In a single motion I divest myself of my nightgown and high stepped over his seated naked form. I offered one tit to his lips, the left, my most erogenous of the pair, with one hand and with my other hand deftly guide that burning log of manhood to the lubricated fireplace between my legs. As I sink gently upon my son, Jeffy sucks in my nipple and squeezes my buns with both strong hands. He goes all the way up, and we stay like that for a whole minute. Then I begin to do a lap dance like no other gal has ever given her guy, a hula girl has nothing on my hips . . . . .
“Mom?” Jeff’s voice breaks the spell and I crash back to reality. “Are you okay? You got this funny look on your face all of a sudden – like you were thinking about -“
“I’m fine!” I interrupt him before he suggested something too close to home. I abruptly pick up his plate and carry it to the sink. After a brief moment Jeff gets up and comes up behind me.
“Mommy?” Jeff says in an odd voice, did you,” he hesitates, “did you wear that nightgown down here to breakfast for my benefit – because if you did I really do appreciate it – a lot.” I suddenly become aware that I have on the sheerest gown I have, practically see-thru, and no panties, much less no bra or any kind of top. I’m nearly naked. “A lot . . . ” Jeff repeats and as if to emphasize his point he pushes his erection right between my cheeks. I can even feel his hairy balls rubbing my ass and – GOD! I’ve gotten a wet spot from where I was sitting thinking about fucking my boy and he must have been able to see it. To make things worse I moisten again, so much so I must be dripping on the kitchen floor and I feel like I’m about to swoon into his arms. And he could do to me whatever he desires, because I desire – lust for – the same!!
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32