"Thirty Days of Incest: Day 4"
Stephanie was the type of woman who caught any man's attention due to her mysterious and sultry aura. At 38 years old, she still sported a youthful figure that had earned her an insignificant beauty title 15 years prior.
Born and raised in a small Kansas town, Stephanie's life took a dramatic turn when she fell pregnant by a con artist who promised her TV contracts. The small townfolk were judgmental and shunned her, branding her as a 'jezebel' for her actions. Despite having plenty of friends before her scandal, she now faced rejection and ridicule. Instead of staying in a place where she was scorned, Stephanie took her hard-earned savings and boarded a bus to New York City. There, she worked as a waitress until the birth of her son, Michael. Despite a tricky start, she managed to raise Michael on welfare when he was young, too proud to reach out to her family for help.
Michael was a chubby, adorable baby with a knack for making his mother smile. In her early years in New York City, Stephanie supported herself and her son by working as a waitress at a cocktail club, dressing in provocative outfits like mini-skirts and bikinis. Despite the lewd attention she received, Stephanie remained wary of any man promising her more. This caution stemmed from her experience in Kansas - an experience she had no plans to repeat. It didn't take long for Stephanie to receive an offer from a customer to help secure a higher-paying job, but fortunately, it didn't involve her engaging in sexual relations.
In no time, Stephanie's sharp wit and effortless flirtation earned her an even more revealing costume. She was unperturbed, fully aware of the male gaze and how to capitalize on it to maximize her tips.
Several years later, Stephanie had saved enough money to move into a better apartment in a nicer neighborhood. Michael, now 18, found living there unsettling. Stephanie was content with her job and new home, though her son's discomfort was oblivious to her. He was introverted and struggled to make friends, making him a target for bullying in his new school. When he didn't conform to their sports-loving culture, he was labeled a 'sissy' and 'mama's boy.' Despite her happiness with her job and new home, she remained unaware of Michael's emotional turmoil.
One day, an unusually troubling incident brought attention to her son's strife.
"I didn't have to work that night, happily," Stephanie recalled. "I think it was around two in the afternoon. I remember it was getting close to time for my son to arrive home from school. We had plans to visit the park after having dinner together downtown. Michael was eager to spend time with me, as he called it. This made me happy because I usually only saw him after four in the morning due to my work schedule. I didn't mind leaving him alone at night, given our new, posher apartment. Although I knew his understanding of women was growing, I didn't think it would be a problem."
"Then came a fateful Friday when things took an unexpected turn," continued Stephanie. "I was waiting for Michael to return home from school, anticipating our evening together. I didn't like the idea of my son being alone overnight, yet it didn't disturb me so much since we had a safer and more pleasant setting. I had assumed he was content since we had better accommodations, but I now recognize I was mistaken."
"That day, I had no clue how brutal life had become for Michael. I thought he was happy in spite of the advances in his age and his sexual interests," Stephanie reminisced. "Little did I know that he felt isolated, bullied, and ashamed - all due to his masturbatory habits."
"I stayed home, waiting for Michael to come back from school," Stephanie said. "We were scheduled to go to the park and have dinner followed by a show after nightfall. I was looking forward to our time together, as Michael enjoyed our bonding sessions. I was unaware of his suffering, however. At the time, I believed the age of teenage boys was when they began thinking about girls, which wasn't a bother to me."
The reverie ended there, leaving the details of the incident unclear. Stephanie's description of her life revealed a woman trapped in a world of men, managing to survive with her pride intact.
When Michael entered our home, he looked distraught and disheveled. His freshly-bought shirt was torn to shreds. He had smears of dirt on his face and a wounded elbow. Immediately, I believed that he had been in some sort of accident. I ran towards him, hugging him for comfort. He clung to me tightly, weeping with all his might.
Michael, sobbing, recounted the horrors that had befallen him. He revealed that there was a local gang of boys who had taken a liking to torturing him due to the absence of his father in his life. They had been calling him names, cruel monikers such as "bastard" and "mama's boy". They scared him with their threats, but he managed to avoid them throughout the school day. That was, until he was cornered by them in an alley after school. There, they taunted him and had added some new insults to their vocabulary - they claimed that I provided sexual favors to men in a nearby club while working there. Michael didn't utter the exact words, but I had no doubt as to what they had said.
Horrified, my immediate instinct was to confront each and every one of these boys' parents. I wanted to demand they explain the actions of their children or, if possible, punish them for such vile behavior. My anger knew no bounds.
Then, I heard the horrifying details of his beating. Apparently, he had attempted to defend me against these false allegations, but his efforts were in vain. The sheer number of these boys overwhelmed him and he was left with teeth marks on his chest and stomach.
I guided him into the bathroom and worked on removing his ruined shirt. It was then that I learned of the additional humiliation he had faced. Somehow, one of the girls in the gang was present at the scene, and they thought it was a grand idea to have her bite his genitalia as a punishment. My son described the actions in a roundabout way, as he understandsably did not use the explicit language, but I fully grasped the monstrosity of the assault.
I filled the tub with water and instructed him to remove the rest of his clothing. I told him that a warm bath would soothe his aching muscles and help alleviate his bruises. My motherly instincts pushed me to comfort and protect him.
As he stepped into the bathroom, still clad in a robe, I told him that I could bathe him as I had so many times when he was a child. However, it'd been a long time since I'd last seen him naked. And as he removed his robe and stood before me, quite a lot had changed. Michael had blossomed into a grown man before my very eyes. I couldn't help but notice the state of his genitals - more specifically, there were marks indicating the girl had actually bitten him there.
Despite my prompting for him to finish drying off on his own, I found that my hands suddenly started helping him with that task. In fact, they felt so drawn to his genitalia that I did not hesitate to examine them more closely. To my utter dismay, my fingers instinctively reached out to his penis. I couldn't explain why, but I would later realize that the infrequent experience of seeing my son's impressive organ in its full, engorged state was the cause of these actions. I held his manhood with the towel before pulling it away to stretch it out.
Michael stood before me, his already wide eyes widening even more, as he witnessed what I had done. Then, to my utter astonishment, he willingly parted his legs to make the process easier. Acting on instinct, I rubbed the towel between the crack of his thighs, dismissing any conscious thought. To my complete shock, I found my hands brushing up against his testicles.
I somehow managed to calm down long enough to move away and allow him to continue his drying process. I couldn't believe what had just transpired - I had just masturbated my son while he begged for help scrubbing his legs below the waist. How had this scenario unfolded? Was it because of his recent trauma? Or was this an act of lust that I found myself unable to resist? Only time would tell how I should proceed.
As I tried to reconstruct the chain of events that had led me to unintentionally pleasure my now grown and naked son, I was struck by the unexpected change in my mental state. I felt an intense urge to continue teasing him sexually. It seemed I had always resisted this feeling, but it was suddenly becoming irresistible. To my horror, I was becoming aroused by Michael's reaction to my actions.
Instead of allowing my secret to fester, I decided to face my guilt head on. Once he was safely wrapped in a bathrobe and sitting across from me on the couch, I admitted my actions, explaining my surprise at the arousal that came from touching him that way. He listened intently and seemed understanding of my confusion, but I couldn't prevent a spasm of guilt from washing over me.
Despite my best efforts, I kept returning to the thoughts of how gorgeous his naked body was and how big his erect penis had been. It became harder and harder for me to resist the temptation, and I eventually gave in, choosing to pleasure him. Before I knew it, I had told him that he could use my vibrator whenever he wanted to relieve his sexual frustrations. The scenario had changed drastically, and I was left trying to reconcile my motherly instincts with this newfound sexual yearning.
Was it the loss of his father that had led him to crave my attention, and had my actions been based in maternal love or something entirely different? And why did my aged body insist on desiring my offspring like this? I struggled with these questions, incredibly unsure where I now stood. My only consolation was that Michael still loved me and that seemed to be a motivating factor behind all his sexual advances.
One day, I'm not sure how it happened, but my hands were on my son's penis, stroking it gently up and down while I stared at the smooth head and watched the clear fluid leak out of his body. There was no talking, and I couldn't stop my hand from moving. I could see him shivering as I masturbated him, and my mind was ablaze with a passion that I had almost forgotten.
I saw the red marks of the girl's teeth on his penis again, and I had this intense urge to kiss him there. It was completely new to me - I'd never put my lips on a man's penis before, nor had I thought about doing it. But the need to kiss and caress my son's penis was beyond strong, and I was on the verge of leaning forward before I knew what I was doing. Once more, Michael remained silent, simply standing and looking down into my face. He had a look I'd never seen before, one of passion.
Slowly stroking his penis again, my hand wandered down to his behind, feeling his solid muscles with warmth and affection. My face was just inches away from his genitals, and I could feel my face resting against the hard side of his penis before I realized what was happening. I wasn't rubbing his penis anymore, but instead kneading it sensually, massaging it against my cheeks and veering towards my neck. His erection seeped droplets of slick liquid on my face, and instead of being repulsed, I craved more.
My nipples ached under my bra, swelling and feeling raw. And I could feel the heat between my legs as my vagina was seeping fluids. Despite the desire to pleasure myself, I wanted to keep caressing my son more.
Michael began running his fingers through my hair softly, and as I sat on my heels, my face buried in the curly hair of his groin, unable to take my eyes off his gaze. I heard his heavy breaths and saw his chest rising and falling. The pulsating hardness of his penis against my cheek was so strong it felt like the world made sense.
I circled my hand around his manhood, and when I started stroking up and down slowly, I couldn't help but squeeze his buttocks lovingly. Suddenly, I felt a slight burning on my cheek, then realized I'd pressed the hard side of his member against my face. I was no longer caressing his penis, but feeling and enjoying it against my face.
My nipples were poking through my bra, and my panties were soaked. I wanted so desperately to rip them off and pleasure myself frantically, but instead, I wanted to hold on to my son. I wrapped my hand around his penis once again, and he began to thrust his hips back and forth, causing his penis to slide gently over my lips as I kissed and licked him. I grasped his testicles tenderly, moving them about in my palm while still stroking him with my mouth.
I lowered my lips across the smooth length of his penis next, nibbling and sucking at it until I reached the bulging head. I wasn't using my lips alone anymore - my tongue joined the party, and he let out low moans. I licked the sides of him, then circled them with my lips, reaching the very top and kissing him there before moving on. His excitement grew as he started hunching his hips, causing his penis to slip along my lips while I continued to suck on his balls. Think what you will, but it was all about taking care of him.
My lips moved along his side, and I gently nibbled at his penis as he rocked his hips forward. I finished by pressing my lips against one side of his penis, then turning my head gently to do the same to the other. As I did, I stroked his penis with one hand while cupping his testicles with the other, twisting them playfully. The way he bit his lip and stared intensely let me know my son was wildly aroused.
After working my way back to his testicles, I licked at them while I masturbated him, finally taking one in my mouth. The delightful sensation of his ball in my mouth made me almost swoon, and I hurriedly continued rubbing his penis. My son was breathing heavily and his hands were tightly gripping my hair, pushing my face into his testicles harder and harder. I could feel the impending ejaculation in his penis, and I suddenly wanted him to expel his semen. I quickly moved my hand up and down his penis faster and faster, sucking at his testicles wildly as I stared up at his face. My son began to gasp, and I felt his organ grow even thicker and harder in my held hand. Suddenly, I sensed the semen erupting through the big tube at the bottom of his penis, covering my hand.
I grunted and excitedly continued playing with his penis after his discharge, using my tongue to lick him from testicles to penis tip. I didn't take the head of his penis into my mouth, instead, I rubbed it around my face as he continued shooting his semen onto me. I opened my mouth wide and let some of the thick substance flow into me. I was bewildered, not sure why I wanted to keep rubbing his penis but I knew it would make me erupt. However, my son, perhaps ashamed, pulled away from me and turned around. He used a damp cloth to clean his genitals and walked out of the bathroom without bothering to wear his robe.
I got up and looked at my reflection in the mirror. White globs of my son's semen clung to my face, chin, and lips. I used my hand to wipe off the big pools of semen, then I curiously popped my finger into my mouth and tasted his fluids. The musky flavor brought back the pleasure. I rubbed my clitoris while recalling the sensations I had experienced while masturbating my son.
Stephanie struggled with her actions towards her son. The park trip and dinner were forgotten. Mother and son avoided each other's eyes during the rest of the day. When Stephanie was preparing dinner, they ate in silence, neither one having the courage to discuss the event.
They both had a restless night, and the next morning on Saturday, the realization came that something was lost between them. Stephanie made up her mind to convince her son that what happened was an accident - a sign of her love for him, not a desire for incest.
But that wasn't the outcome.
Since the night before, I spent the night thinking about the interaction. I had to be honest with myself and admit to enjoying fondling him that night. My jaws ached from relishing the sensation of his fluids in my mouth. His musky taste was still in my mouth, and despite planning to clean my teeth, I kept it there. I accidentally rubbed my clitoris while thinking of how to explain to my son that what had happened could never happen again.
Upon waking, my son didn't like when I tried to touch him. He was lying on his bed, reading comics, when I entered. He briefly looked at me before shyly averted his gaze. I asked him if his teeth marks had healed, and he grunted a response. I reached out and touched his shoulder, and he shivered beneath my hand. I told him I was sorry for what happened the night before, saying that I had done so to soothe him. He didn't respond, so I continued lying, saying that our actions were normal and appropriate between a mother and her son. (I even asked him if he had taken up masturbation yet, which didn't elicit a response.)
I had convinced myself that it wasn't bad, but I had lied to him. I apologized to my son for my deceitful reassurances, explained that I was manipulating him; I didn't show regret for the actual deed. He may have continued to feel uncomfortable during lunch, and I felt the same way. I had ruined our relationship - a cherished bond that I will never recover.
As I was aimlessly working in the kitchen until mid-morning, I felt nervous. Whenever Michael came out of his room, I instantly left to avoid having to talk to him. When my efforts of avoidance failed, I sat down on his bed and looked at him. He looked down at me quickly and was red-faced. I asked him if the teeth marks were gone, and I received a one-word answer. I caressed his arm, making him tremble. I continued lying, insisting our actions were natural and OK. I claimed that our actions were fueled by love - not any incestuous desires.
However, my plan was a failure. The words I spoke were the opposite of what I intended. I told my son that it was perfectly fine, and yet, he didn't look convinced. Finally, I questioned him directly: "Do you think what we did was wrong?" He kept silent, leaving the question unanswered. Moments later, he told me to get out of his room. I left the room to avoid further awkwardness and potential arguments.
I knew where our conversation was heading, and yet, like before, I couldn't resist asking the silly questions. While we chatted, he inch closer to his comic book, making me unable to see his blushing cheeks. As I spoke calmly and softly, he continued to tremble. I couldn't help but glance at his crotch area and was pleasantly surprised to see the bulge building up. It was on the left side of his pants, and his half-hard penis was visible. I traced my fingers over his belly, telling him about our naughty deeds, making him shiver and softly moan. I observed his penis again and saw that it was fully erect now. I leaned forward and started unbuckling his belt, then proceeded to his buttons.
I pushed his pants apart and caressed his left leg, feeling his penis there. It twitched and quivered beneath my touch, and I inserted my fingers into the fly of his shorts. I found his penis and pulled it out, exposing it to my touch for the second time in two days. He didn't protest as I stroked his manhood, nor did he say anything when I held his penis firmly and jerked it off.
I brought my legs up onto the bed, sitting beside him while I played with his organ. He leaned closer to his comic book, making the noise of delight louder, trying not to whimper. I moved his pants and shorts down, leaving his entire genitals exposed. I examined his balls, which had no teeth marks, and he welcomed my fingertips.
I twisted around to face my son, but left my knees crossed. I gripped his penis firmly and started stroking it, following the same rhythm. I gazed at the small slit opening and closing again. I tightened my grip, and then loosened it, yet kept the motion going. I started feeling the gush of cum inside me, wanting it to happen all over again.
I was wearing a dress, and as my legs were crossed, my dress stretched, revealing my knees. I didn't feel shy or naughty while I masturbated my son; instead, I felt an immense love for him. He wasn't trying to hide it anymore and instead let me continue.
Unlike other times, he had not been circumcised, allowing his loose foreskin to move over his dickhead. I reveled in the perfect sight of the ball-shaped head disappearing under the loose skin and reappearing to shine brightly. The sight of him and the pleasure he felt made my heart explode with love.
I took his comic book and lay it down across his face, making it impossible for me to see him. He had his hands on the bed, letting me have complete control.
Michael, unlike other times, had no feeling of disgust or embarrassment; this was pure passion. I took in the sight of his thick penis and the foreskin over it, nothing but love in my eyes. As I continued to stroke his penis, I reached for my dress, stroking my knees and thighs. He started looking at me, watching my fingers pull my dress's hem upwards and away from my thighs. It was then I realized he could see my panties. With my position, it was visible, and he could even see my vagina underneath - not in all its glory, but I could see that he was enjoying the view.
I stroked his thick penis hard, rubbing my thigh and knee with my right hand. He watched my hand as it moved up and down my throat. The friction was building up inside me, making me hot and moist. It felt like the most amazing feeling, and the notion that he was watching made me excited. We were both equally aroused at this point.
The comic book hid his face, but I could see his gaze focused on my hand and the sight beneath. I appeared to enjoy his flaxen hair and his small moans of pleasure. I masturbated him with joy and brought him the same pleasure.
Despite how big my heart was growing, emotions and desires took over as I imagined his climax. I was aware that he couldn't last long and looked forward to it. I strummed him like a guitar, and my vagina was being moister by the minute. I saw myself ready to feel the same eroticism I was giving him.
I had no remorse or shame about using his cock to bring me pleasure. My insides shook from the excitement as I caressed his foreskin and rubbed his penis harder, sensing his climaxing. The room seemed silent, but his light, quick breaths and the creaking of the bed filled the empty room. I was free of any negativity, ready to enjoy this sexual revel in the best way possible.
While moving my hand in a rhythmic motion on his penis, I caressed my thigh, pushing my skirt up my leg. My dress edged closer to my hips, approaching them rapidly. Michael's gaze was fixed on my inner thigh, zeroing in on the waistband of my underwear as my hand reached higher. My left hand sped up and down on his penis, and when my palm brushed against my crotch, I couldn't help but make a noise of extreme delight.
I placed my hand over my vagina through my underwear and rubbed frantically, thrusting myself into a state of intense arousal. As I pumped my son's penis, I deliberately pulled his underwear aside, exposing my vagina. I then proceeded to openly and shamelessly masturbate myself, his observance heightening the experience. I directed my gaze towards his penis, fearful of missing the moment when his semen released from him. Meanwhile, he couldn't take his eyes off my hand, which was repeatedly stroking at my engorged clitoris and puffed-up lips.
The climax was near, and I was eager to synchronize it with my son's ejaculation. Consequently, I intensified my hand movements on his penis, panting and huffing as I persistently squeezed my hand inside my vagina.
My son suddenly moaned loudly, his pelvis rising to meet my hand, and then, he erupted into a spectacular orgasm. His semen spattered in the air before dripping back down onto my hand, coating it in a warm substance. When a second stream of his fluid hit, I suddenly yelled out in the middle of a highly intense orgasm. We both were thrashing violently as we reached climax, and his eyes locked onto my vagina as I slapped at my clitoris and jerked like crazy on his penis.
Once it was all over, I cleaned us both up, then left him alone with his comic books.
Read also:
- Day 2: 30 Days of Incest
- Father, Child, and Aunt
- Surprise for Father's Birthday
- New Mother's Story Part 11: Wedding Ceremony Update Part 2
Source: www.nice-escort.de
