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One Hot Night

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It was a sweltering hot night and the house air conditioner did not seem to be coping. I’d gone to bed about eleven o’clock and after about an hour of tossing and turning I’d dropped off to sleep. I woke some time later and looked at the bedside clock; it was two a.m. I knew from past experience that it would be hours before I went back to sleep.

“Damn this,” I muttered, “I’ll go and get a drink.” I got out of bed, and putting on my dressing gown I went to the kitchen and got my drink. On my way back to bed I passed through the family room and a thought struck me. “I’ll play around with the computer for a while.”

I went to the machine and switched on. There was a site I subscribed to that I only ever used when no one was around; it was an erotic site – well, to be honest it was an incest site specialising in mother and son incest pictures and stories.

If that reveals something about the dark thoughts that lurked in my head, so be it. When I first realised I was having erotic thoughts about my mother I was really worried; I thought I’d end up on a psychiatrist’s couch having my head straightened out.

Worried, I did a bit of reading using the web to find out about these lustful thoughts and feelings, and discovered that lots of sons have those thoughts about their mothers, and some mothers have erotic thoughts about their sons. Usually neither does anything about it and eventually the son finds a sex partner and the feelings for his mother diminish and eventually are forgotten. Having gained this knowledge I felt reassured; I was not a depraved monster.

That was three years ago and since then I’d had a couple of girls as sex partners, but the thoughts about my mother had not gone away as promised; if anything they had got more intense as I fantasised mother when I copulated with the girls.

I made things worse for myself because in the original process of seeking information about incestuous feelings I came across this mother and son incest site. I decided to subscribe to it and I suppose I’d become addicted to it.

When I was sure I wouldn’t be interrupted I would sit and look at the pictures and read stories of sons making love with their mothers, and would fantasise that it was me with my mother. I would get incredibly horny and have to masturbate sitting before the screen, not once, but several times in the course of an hour or two.

Now, deciding everyone was asleep I opened up the site and began to look at the most recent pictures that had been added. Young men copulating with their mothers, giving and receiving oral sex, nipples being pressed and sucked, vagina’s and anuses being penetrated, hot tongue thrusting kisses; loving mothers gratifying their sons and equally loving sons pleasuring their mothers.

There was no particular pattern to the mothers. Some looked quite young and attractive, others older and quite plain; some were fat others thin; they came in all shapes and sizes. As for the relationships, according to the stories some were born of a real love and desire for each other, others were just lustful.

I often wondered how they got started. Who first approached whom? In what circumstances did it first happen? Who said what? How long did it go on for? Did they get discovered? The incest stories I read all seem to give plausible circumstances for the first time; the trouble was, those circumstances never seemed to arise with mother and me, and even if they did I didn’t think I’d have the courage to take advantage of them.

I was lost in a series of graduated pictures that showed a mother approaching her son; how she slowly undressed him, and then he undressed her. After lengthy foreplay they finished copulating on the divan. I got a mighty erection and was on the point of masturbating when a voice behind me said, “I heard you get up darling, so I thought I’d get up and…what’s that you’re looking at?”

I froze, it was mother. I was well past the age when it was legal for me to view the material, but I felt mortified that mother had caught me looking at it.

I had an icon that in an emergency would take me straight back to the desk top, but it was too late. Whatever now followed, it was no use hiding what I’d been viewing, and so I sat there thinking. “She might as well know since she’s caught me out.” It was a bit like the old crime stories of years ago; when the burglar was caught in the act he would say something like, “It’s a fair cop mate.”

Mother had never bothered to become computer literate and therefore had little understanding of its workings. She said again. “What’s that you’re looking at?” It was a rhetorical question in that it was obvious what I was looking at.

“It’s an erotic site,” I mumbled, feeling hot with embarrassment, not so much for viewing such a site, but because I’d been caught viewing it.

“Really David, why do you want to look at…they’re ataşehir escort bayan all young men with older women.”

“Yes, it’s that sort of site.”

“Do you look at this sort of thing often?”

“Yes quite often.”

“My God, David, it says there that they’re mothers and sons.”

“Yes, that’s what the site is all about, mother and son incest.”

“And you like that sort of…what’s he doing to her?”

The picture she referred to depicted the mother sitting on a divan with her legs wide open and the son kneeling before her, his tongue in her vagina.

“They’re not real pictures, they fake them,” mother gasped, “no son would do that with his mother.”

“They claim that they are genuine mother and son incest pictures,” I said, and since there hadn’t been an almighty explosion of disgust from mother I went on, “and even if they aren’t real mothers and sons, there are lots of things they couldn’t possibly fake.”

I scrolled to show a picture of an ecstatic woman being penetrated from behind as she leaned over a table by an equally enraptured young man. The penetrating penis was clearly to be seen; Mother gasped again.

“That one you went past, go back to that.” I scrolled again. “No, the other one…”

Up came a picture of two young men and a woman. Again the woman was sitting on a divan with one of the men kneeling in front of her and giving her oral sex, while the other man was kissing her. You could see their tongues clashing and his hand was fondling her breast.

Mother was leaning over my shoulder. She was wearing a flimsy summer weight nightdress and I could feel her breasts pressing against my shoulder and she was breathing heavily.

“Go to that one before,” she said.

I scrolled to the picture of a woman giving oral sex to a young man who from the look on his face was about to come.

Mother asked to see several more pictures, her breathing growing ever more rapid and her breasts pressing more closely as she leaned over me.

“You’d never dream of doing anything like that to me would you?” she asked, in a constricted sounding voice.

I was beginning to inhale her womanly fragrance and I croaked, “Well, I…I…er…I don’t know.”

“Looking at these pictures, don’t you get…get…stimulated?”

I’d been horny before mother had arrived on the scene, but now, with the pictures and mother being so close to me I could barely keep still. My penis was throbbing and I could feel the pre-cum dribbling out of my urethra.

“Yes, of course I do,” I admitted.

“You really like looking at incest pictures?”



What could I say; “Because they’re a substitute for what I’d like to be doing with you, mother”? Hardly, but I was bold enough to say, “Well, you’re enjoying looking at them, aren’t you? Are you getting stimulated?”

Like me she didn’t answer but said, “It’s just that I’ve never seen…never had those things done to…your father never…she trailed off then returned to the fray. “Are you stimulated now?”


She was standing squarely behind me now and cradling my head between her breasts. “Show me some more pictures.”

I scrolled slowly through a variety of pictures presenting just about every possible means of people sexually pleasuring each other. Mother seemed utterly engrossed in what I was showing her; I could feel her breasts heaving and she pushed her hand inside my dressing gown and began to stroke my chest.

The situation was becoming unbearable. We were both shaking with sexual tension and she now leaned right over me and I felt her hand slowly creep down my body until it came to rest on my penis. She began to stroke its foreskin over its pre-cum soaked head, dragging a loud groan from me.

“You really have thoughts about me like that?”


“For a long time?”

“Yes, for a few years.”

Mother emitted a long shuddering sigh and pulling back my head she delivered a long, wet kiss.

“You really want to do those things with me?”


“Would you do them now, darling?” she said in a hoarse whisper.

“If you want me to.”

“Please darling, I’m so…so…oh God, do it to me…”

I stood and faced her and began to press her breasts through the cloth of her nightdress; she leaned limply against me and said, “Over there darling, on the divan like they do in the pictures.”

She took my hand and drew me to the divan, then opened my dressing gown to reveal my nakedness beneath.

“Oh darling you really are…it’s so big; it was as if she’d never seen a penis before she seemed so fascinated. She began to masturbate me again as I took off her nightdress.

“Mother, you’ll make me come.”

“No darling, not like that.” She lay back on the divan and spread her legs wide; “Put it in me, let me feel it in escort kadıköy me…”

If I was going to ejaculate in her there was no time for refinements because I was right on the verge and mother was pleading; “Please, darling, I want it in me….in me…”

I came between her legs and guided by her hand slid into her. She was very hot and very wet, and seemed to be trying to suck me deep into her.

“Oh darling that’s beautiful, let it go, come into me now, I want it…neeeeow…oh….ah…oh…darling…”

She must have been as aroused as I was because she began to shake as she tried to drag me deeper into her. I let it go and fired into her and we were both trying to stifle our moans and screams as we came together.

I finished before she did but she clung to me moaning, “Don’t leave me…don’t leave me…not yet.” I stayed with her until she began to relax, signalling the end of her orgasm.

When I pulled out she whispered, “It’s been so long, David.”

“You mean you’ve wanted me to…”

“Yes, darling, but I didn’t know how to start…how to approach you…if only I’d known.”

If she’d only known indeed; I thought of all the time we’d lost when we could have been making love.

As if picking up my thoughts mother said, “We can make up for lost time now.”

I’m not sure what I’d anticipated, perhaps a one-off sexual intercourse, but the indications were that now we had started I could look forward to more sexual encounters. I decided to check on the situation.

“You mean we are going to make love again…that it’s not just this once?”

“Of course not darling, I haven’t waited all this time just for a passing sexual union with my son. You didn’t want that, did you?”

“No, of course not.”

I was lying beside her and her breasts were very near. I took one in my hand and raised the nipple to my mouth. As I started to suck her she said, “Darling, you couldn’t do it again could you, not so soon after…Oh God, don’t do that to me if you’re not going to come into me, you’re getting me all worked up again.”

I continued to play with her breasts for a while, then gently parting her legs I came into her again. Her tunnel was filled with our previous discharges, making it very soft and warm, if a little squelchy and prone to make sucking sounds as I thrust in and out. Mother lay back as if in submission to my penetration, but with a seraphic smile on her face. It took me longer to come this time and after a while mother’s smile began to fade, to be replaced by an agonised look and her lower body started to work with my thrusts; then began the cries.

“No darling…no…no…you’ll make me…oh God no it’s too agonising…eeeow…yes….yes…don’t…stoooop…”

I don’t think I could have stopped even if my father had burst in upon us. I had my hands under buttocks and was beating into her with a fervour I had not experienced with anyone else. I wondered at my ability to put so much semen into her after my first discharge, but enthusiasm seems to work wonders.

For all our fear of waking father and my sister we gave full vocal vent to our orgasmic joy. I gasped the last dribble of sperm into her and lay lax and unmoving over her body. Mother continued to move over me until she too fell motionless.

She glanced at the wall clock. “My God, its four o’clock, I’ve got to get back to bed.”

I withdrew from her and she went on, “I’ll have to take a shower or he’ll smell you on me.”

That was a good point. It didn’t so much matter in my case since I was not going to wake up with anyone alongside me in the bed, besides; I wanted to relish her vaginal bouquet as long as possible in order to reassure myself it had all really happened.

Mother kissed me and murmured, “When we can, darling,” and left me. As I made my way to my bedroom I heard the hiss of the shower and wished I was there with her.

A number of things arose out of that night: mother took a sudden interest in learning to use the computer; “When we can,” proved to be more frequent than I’d expected with hardly a day going by when we didn’t find time for a little sexual conviviality.

Inspired by the incest site, and others she found, mother became very exploratory. We surveyed the rift of Labia Majora; penetrated the Labia Minora that guards the way to the Tunnel of Vagina; we circled The Isle of Clitoris; sailed up the Canal of Anus and I tasted the delicious tips of the twin Mounts of Mamma.

Mother became an advanced student in Erotica and from the insights gained she pressed me to “Try this,” or “Let’s do that.” All necessary equipment was brought into play: penis, lips, tongue, fingers and even fist. When assured we would not be interrupted strips of soft cloth were employed as restraints.

With regard to me mother seemed to become genital fixated to the extent that, while standing bostancı escort on some low steps engaged in the innocent occupation of changing a light bulb, she approached me, pulled down my zip, and began to play with my manhood. Upon it’s swelling up to full stretch she took it into her mouth, and there, poised with a light bulb in my hand, I ejaculated.

Such were the demands on my testes and their product I ceased all sexual contact apart from that with mother. I suppose that comes under the heading of, “Conservation of Energy.”

Things took a slightly different turn when, after about three months of this blissful mating, and after we had just finished a happy union, mother asked, “Do you suppose those women on the computer site sometimes get pregnant? I mean, you never see any sign of a condom in the pictures or read about them being used in the stories.”

I took this to be a casual enquiry and said, “Well, you spend more time looking and reading the stories so you should know better than me, but I suppose they’re either on the pill or past getting pregnant.”

“Yes,” she said thoughtfully, “you’re probably right. Sometimes they do mention about the mother being on the pill or being past getting pregnant, but a few stories do have the mother getting pregnant by her son.”

“There you are then; you knew the answer to your question.”

“Yes, but I wanted to see if you’d noticed,” she said dreamily, then, “Are we going to do it again?”

We did it again.

Nothing more was said about pregnancy for another three months and then mother made her shock announcement, “We’ve done it, darling.”

“Done what?”

“We’re pregnant.”

“We’re what?”

“I’m going to have a baby.”

“But you’re on the pill and you’re too…”

“I took myself off the pill, and no, I’m not too old. Isn’t it wonderful?”

I didn’t exactly share her enthusiasm for her condition, in fact my own response was more one of horror and doubt.

“But mother, couldn’t it be father’s?”

“My love, unless I make an approach he never comes near me, and ever since we started I haven’t bothered.”

“You mean ever since we started having sex you haven’t had intercourse with father?”

“That’s what I just told you; and you may think I’m demanding, but where do you think I’d get the energy or even the desire to approach him?”

“But he’ll go mad when he learns you’re pregnant.”

“That’s true; he won’t like it very much, starting another family, as it were.”

“But mother, if he hasn’t had sex with you he’ll want to know who the father is. What are you going to say?”

“I’ll tell him the truth…”


“I’ll tell him I stopped taking the pill.”

“But you’ll still have to tell him who the father is.”

“Not necessarily darling; leave it all to me. By the way, we won’t have any sex tonight.”

Given the state of nervous guilt I was in I thought it just as well we weren’t having any sex that night since an erection was highly unlikely.

Despite my mother’s assurance that I could leave it up to her, I had a sleepless night. There would be hell to pay when my father learned about mother’s pregnancy. I tossed and turned and had no desire to go to the computer for solace. “That bloody thing started all this,” I unfairly complained, because after all, it had been me who had used the site.

Next morning, and after father left for work and before I went to my job, mother came to me smiling. “All’s well darling; I managed to get him to do it with me.”

“Do what?”

“Have a sexual intercourse, what else? It took a bit of effort on my part, but in the end he was able to dribble into me.”

“You mean you did that to make him think he’s the father.”

“Yes. So we don’t have to worry, we can carry on as normal.”

“But he’ll be able to work out the timing.”

“I don’t think so. He’s not very good at arithmetic and there’s always premature birth.”

“But it’s so deceitful.”

Mother looked stern; “You haven’t worried about deceiving him up till now, so why the sudden rush of conscience?”

“But that was before…”

“I got pregnant? Everything comes at a price, my love, and this is part of it. The other part is that you’ll bear some of the responsibility and pay extra board to help with the costs of having a baby.” At that moment I wanted to berate mother for her deception in going off the pill and not telling me, but then, she hadn’t told father either, and I had enough guilt of my own not to start accusing mother.

As with many similar situations we experience in life I was saying to myself, “Never again.” And like many such resolves made in the moment of crisis, it didn’t last. Sex with mother had been so good, and as it is said, “An erect penis has no conscience,” that within a couple of days we were back on the sexual track.

This was done with mother’s sworn proviso that after the baby was born there would be no more. “I only did it because I wanted it with you,” she said. “It’s like having you back in my womb again.”

Well, it wasn’t quite like me because the baby was a girl.

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