Author's notes: This is the fifth installment in an eight-part series of a Japanese woman exploring her evolving incestuous world. In previous chapters, Laurie committed the first taboo of incest by losing her virginity to her younger brother and discovering the shameless joys of a sister-brother romance. Her second major incestuous taboo was their love child, Jonathan. In this telling, Laurie discovers the forbidden pleasures of the third major sin of incest. Enjoy.
Thanks to Amela for her editing to make this chapter more enjoyable.
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Life has a way of punishing the weak willed and sinful, and I was both. I should not have been so weak willed as to let Kenny, my younger brother, seduce me in my own bed. I should not have been so sinful in carrying on with him and enjoying every drop of sperm that he could pump into my willing body. I was punished in spades and rapid succession for my naivete and transgressions: knocked up by Kenny in an "oops" moment of youthful passion, urgency and stupidity; married to a convenient boyfriend, Bruce; gave birth to Jonathan, my love child; and one year later, had Bruce's true son, Andrew.
What I didn't know, however, was that life reserves a special double whammy for those who don't learn from their previous mistakes. This cosmic truth became apparent some eighteen years later when I was ensnared in another downward spiral into depraved incest - but this time with my very own love child, Jonathan.
Now, in my poor defense, I shared the same weaknesses of many mothers. Caught up with taking care of a household (a husband and two boys) along with working full time, I didn't take much notice of Jonathan's gradual physical changes. One day I happened to turn around to find that he was an over six foot tall, muscular, and handsome young man. If I was so inattentive as to Jonathan's physical development, I was simply clueless about Jonathan's burning curiosity about females, his rampant hormones, and his surging sexual urges.
I thought nothing of traipsing around the house wearing only a simple spaghetti-strapped smock with panties underneath. It never once crossed my mind that my eldest son was secretly ogling my small, braless breasts with their big, meaty nipples, the length of my legs, and the jiggling sashay of my buns. I didn't suspect anything when Jonathan just happened to stumble upon me as I was undressing or that he would burst in while I was taking a bath to ask some burning question. I failed to notice all those telltale signs that Jonathan was exhibiting of his growing interest in me, his mother, and in more than just a normal mother/son way.
This all changed one Saturday afternoon when I happened to stumble upon Jonathan in the laundry room, jerking off with my silky panties wrapped around his erection. I remember how my breath caught in my throat. I immediately frozen in place from the instant realization of what was happening. I should have turned away out of utter mortification, but I was awestruck by the sight of my son's fully engorged and extended cock. Simply put, for a Japanese-American eighteen-year-old boy, Jonathan's masculine endowment was of breathtaking proportions.
However, what really held me in place was Jonathan's predatory gaze as he rapidly beat his meat. I was a bird paralyzed by a swaying snake that was intent on devouring me and, while I knew that I should fly away, I was unable to do so. As my panties slid up and down his shaft, the lust in his eyes told me in no uncertain terms that I was the object of his masturbation fantasy. My heart fluttered to my throat as my breath came in short breathy grasps under Jonathan's lustful stare.
It was only when his hips jerked violently to his loud guttural grunt as he exploded in my panties that I could tear my eyes away. I stumbled away, but with the undeniable awareness of the humiliating but unmistakable wetness between my legs.
As any mother would, I denied my sons' sexual interest in me. More importantly, I dismissed how my body had reacted to the sight of my son's erection. I, however, could not help but notice how Jonathan would always manage to position himself as I cleaned so that he'd could look down my neckline or up my skirt whenever I bent over. I became increasingly aware of the crusty wads on Kleenex in his bedroom trash can, the occasional stiff clump of his hardened underwear in the hamper, and his frequent and lengthy showers.
I told myself that these were natural adolescent urges and that I should be nonchalant about my son relieving himself so as not to embarrass Jonathan, a healthy young man. However, as my son's interest in me grew, so did the discovery of my semen-laden panties and bras found in the bathroom hamper and laundry room. Yet, as distressed as I was, a part of me was strangely (or perhaps perversely) proud that a handsome young man would find a dowdy thirty-eight-year-old woman attractive - even if that woman was me, his mother.
Unknown to me at the time was that Jonathan was in the grips of an overwhelming teenage male imperative: find a female to fuck. As a virgin eighteen-year-old, this was compounded by the second male imperative: find a female now! Unfortunately, like other young men of his age, the internet and the ubiquitous YouTube provided my son with a wealth of graphic how-to-do information on seduction and various sexual acts.
Even more unfortunate was that the only female who was readily available was me. It never dawned on me that Jonathan had locked on me like a sex-seeking missile and I never stood a chance of escaping. Like Kenny, my first lover and Jonathan's biological father, my love child was a chip of the old block - an irresistible force that I would be unable to resist or deny.
In retrospect, I had to give Jonathan credit. He didn't come on with a heavy rush but instead opted to patiently bide his time. His chance came when Bruce and Andrew went hunting for a long weekend on another island. Jonathan begged off, saying that he'd stay behind to "take care" of his mother which I found curiously endearing at the time.
This was because my marriage with Bruce had hit a rocky period (one of many) punctuated by his "boom-boom" bed sessions (which is a nice way of saying marital rape) the evening before his departure. Work and my familial demands prevented me from running home to return to the open arms and ever-hard penis of my brother, Kenny. As a result, I was feeling very despondent and in need of some time apart from Bruce.
I felt an immediate sense of relief when I dropped Bruce and Andrew at the airport. By the time I returned home, I was caught up in a somber depression about what to do in my life. I knew that if I could somehow make it home to Kenny, I would have that large dose of loving care and tender intimacy that I craved for in the pit of my stomach. In my despair, I yearned for the downright randy incest that had always been the proven remedy to sooth my state of unhappiness with Bruce.
As was my habit, I went straight to my bedroom to immediately begin changing into the loose smock that I normally wear around the house. I was so absorbed with my thoughts that I was unaware of Jonathan standing in my bedroom doorway, watching me take off my work clothes and shimmy out of my pantyhose under which I never wore panties. It wasn't until I undid and discarded my bra that I became aware of Jonathan's presence.
