AUTHOR'S NOTE AND WARNING TO READERS: This is a story about a mother and her son. Be aware that it contains no pussy penetration whatsoever, instead being almost entirely focused on anal sex. I'd undoubtedly stick it in the Anal category if it didn't have an incest theme. My advice is that you only keep reading if you're fond of such things. This story was written to fulfil the request of a commentator who wanted "mother + son incest" and "anal only", so there you have it! Read the tags for more information.
This is a work of fiction, and everyone in the story is eighteen or older.
All of my stories are copyrighted.
--- A MOTHER'S COMFORT ---
The haunting scream echoed through the dead of night, and Gracie - jolted awake by the sound - found herself out of the comfort of her bed within seconds, moving over to her son's room with haste. She was met with the familiar sight of the poor young man thrashing and kicking, wracked by his night terrors. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat that made him seem almost ghostly in the pale moonlight shining through the window. His hands clenched and unclenched as he grunted and growled his exertions at some unknown foe. She wrapped her arms around him, and even in his sleep he would hug back - clinging to her as if she were an anchor in a storm, desperate for salvation. He mumbled incoherent words under his breath, some of which sounded like 'please' and 'no' - and occasionally he would scream loudly, terror seeping into every syllable.
"Mateo, Mateo, wake up, sweetheart," she urged him. Her heart was in her throat. It was so difficult to see him like this, in so much agony, writhing against her grasp, trying desperately to flee the visions only he could see. Mateo was almost 20, and had grown into a refined, confident young man who showed no fear when he was awake. But inside, he had never recovered from the accident. "Honey, you're okay now," she continued. The words were comforting, desperate, yet meaningless. There was no way to assure him that everything was fine. The images came for both of them at night, visions of the fire - and how it all ended for the most important man in both their lives. "Mommy's here, sweetie. Everything's okay." Gracie held her son so tightly as he wept, her own tears pooling in her eyes - but she didn't allow herself to cry. Not while her son needed her.
Eventually, he opened his eyes and looked up at her with his startlingly bright, blue gaze. He took a deep, shuddering breath as if he had just awoken from a trip to the darkest hellscape, and then he clung to his mother - breathing in the familiar, grounding smell of her. "I love you, Mommy," he said weakly, still trembling. She kissed him on the forehead and nodded, unable to form words due to the lump in her throat. It had been two years since they had lost his father - and although things had gotten slightly easier, the nightmares were persistent. "Thank you for always saving me," Mateo added, squeezing Gracie again. "Sorry for ruining your sleep.."
She shook her head, refusing to believe that her child could ever be a problem or burden. "You never ruin anything, Mateo." Her hands went up to stroke his unkempt, chocolate hair and she wiped away his tears with her thumbs. He was so much like his father; his tawny skin, his aquamarine eyes, the curls that refused to be tamed, and a smile that could light up the room. "Go back to sleep, sweetie."
He was so tired, he didn't need to be told twice. At least once per night, the night terrors would sink its claws into his mind and suck him dry - leaving him drained of strength. There wasn't much he could do but sleep the exhaustion away. And Gracie, always running to his aide, didn't fare much better. She watched him fall asleep as he nestled into his pillow, and then she left the room, hoping his dreams would be far kinder to him now.
Once back in her own bed, Gracie was filled with an endless guilt that couldn't be described. Mateo reminded her so much of his father when he was young, and Gracie had fallen in love for the first time. It was only natural that their son inherited some of his most significant traits - but unnatural how drawn she felt towards him. Her own son. It was wrong and shameful to feel so attracted to her flesh and blood, and she felt awful for finding even the slightest enjoyment in the moments she could hold him close when he was having his nightmares. Seeing him suffer pained her greatly, but being the one that could comfort him - being the one that could soothe his soul - it made her feel special. Needed.
With a heavy heart, she fell asleep and dreamed of what she had lost. Her husband's absence left an emptiness that nothing seemed to fill. Although, it felt as though Mateo could. He had grown into a fine young man with an infectious laugh and a smile so bright it could drive out the shadows. He could make his mother feel better without even knowing it. He could make her whole. If only she could make him see that they needed each other.
--- 2 ---
Uncertain of when she had fallen asleep, and how much rest she had truly gotten, her alarm clock told her it was time to start another day, and the morning sun dancing in through the blinds was indication enough that her exhaustion had caught up to her and lulled her into an unconscious state. Groggy and unwilling, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling as her head pounded from sleep deprivation, and then she threw her arm over her face to block out the sun. However, she could only endure the sound of the alarm for a short time before she became fed up. With a groan followed by a long yawn, she rolled over and sat up - turning the offending alarm off in the process.
She made her way down to the rustic kitchen, decorated with warm, mahogany wood and polished stone. Mateo was already awake, whipping up pancakes for the both of them, wearing nothing but a tight fitting t-shirt and a pair of boxers. He greeted his mother with a bright smile when he saw her approaching. "Good morning, Mom," he greeted her as soon as he noticed her presence. His face was warm, his smile reaching his eyes. "The coffee's fresh if you want some. Pancakes will be a few more minutes."
Her fingers trailed across the smooth marble countertops as she poured herself a cup, and she hummed happily as the sweet aroma filled her nostrils and caressed her senses. Observing her son in this light felt strange - not unwelcome, but definitely peculiar. How could something so normal feel so thrilling? And yet it broke her heart, knowing how much he was struggling on the inside. Somewhere deep within him nested pain and anguish - and yet, he never showed it during the day. Instead, he had overcome so much, and truly stepped up to take the role of the man in the household. His college plans had been put aside, instead opting to work to help pay the bills, and he did a lot around the house too. Without him, Gracie would be absolutely lost.
"How are you feeling this morning, honey?" Gracie wondered, making sure to maintain a respectable distance from her son as she sipped from her cup of coffee. Black, no sugar. She looked at him with concern etched into her face.
"It was a pretty bad night," he replied, always honest. "But I'm okay, thanks to you. I cannot tell you with words how much I appreciate you comforting me during my episodes. Your voice and your warm touch is what pulls me back to reality. I adore you." The look of love that shone in his eyes was unmistakable, and it made Gracie breathe out in a way that suggested she had been holding it in for far too long. Mateo was an enigma - a stoic man, always in control. No matter the situation, he always appeared as if nothing affected him, as if he had long since buried everything deep inside himself, keeping himself safe from the tenebrous corners of his mind. But when night fell, he was back in the inferno, watching his father die anew.
Gracie allowed herself a few moments to admire him, and the man he had grown into - her gaze sweeping over every inch of his body, stopping momentarily at his beautiful smile before looking up into his eyes once again. "And I adore you, sweetie," she replied. Even in the hardship she felt an incredible sense of pride. He had gone through so much, yet here he stood before her, determined to survive - and beautiful like no other.
--- 3 ---
Once the evening came, Gracie was so tired that even a cold shower couldn't wake her up from the fog of sleepiness. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her body begged her to lay down and let go. The day had been long and dreary at the Cheesecake Factory - and while she could blame her exhaustion on the terrible shift, the truth was that she had felt the same way for weeks now. The fatigue never seemed to subside. Between Mateo waking her up with his night terrors and her own misplaced emotions for her son, her sleep was awful, and she could no longer fake enthusiasm during work.
By the time she was in bed, ready to doze off and meet her dreams, her mind went wild with ideas of what tonight would bring. In her fantasies she envisioned herself comforting her son, saving him from his woes, wrapping her arms around him - the fear, the terror, the nightmares all far behind. He would fall asleep so easily with her arms holding him tight, safe from harm. They were each other's strengths. Yet part of her wanted more. Could such a thing be healthy? She couldn't bare the thought that loving him like that might damage him - that her feelings for him were wrong. The guilt was eating her alive. And yet the ache in her chest every time she thought of Mateo only grew stronger.
She awoke to the sound of his whimpers from his room across the hall. They both slept with their doors open so that Gracie would notice if anything was amiss, and could come to his aid. Once more he was dreaming of the flames, and Gracie was out of bed before she had even awoken fully. As she entered her son's bedroom she saw him tossing and turning, his mouth hung open as he mumbled nonsensical words - desperate pleas. She hurried over and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her bosom, clad in her nightgown.