Looking back, I'm not exactly sure when things progressed from innocent hugging to mortal sin, but all of a sudden I realized that my mom's tongue was in my mouth and that I was kissing her back passionately. She tasted of vodka and tears, and I found myself wondering if this could really be happening or if I was just dreaming it all. I pressed my mouth against hers hard, our tongues continuing to wrestle in our forbidden kiss. Dream or not, I knew I didn't want it to end.
Hell, I'd been fantasizing about my mom for years now--ever since my senior year of high school, shortly after my eighteenth birthday. In fact, one of my fondest sexual memories was of catching her sunbathing in a tiny string bikini one Saturday afternoon when she thought I wasn't home. I must've stood there staring through the window for ten minutes or more, cock raging hard, unable to make myself look away. From that day on, I couldn't look at her ass and not get hard. Of course, it wasn't just her ass--though I must say, even to this day, that her ass is a thing of beauty--but the rest of her body as well. Her tits aren't big, 34B, but they are extremely perky and fit well on her trim, athletic body. And her looks... well, I wouldn't say she could be a model, but she is definitely in the milf category. Nice features, long shiny, dark hair, sparkling eyes and an engaging smile.
Yeah, my mom was hot, and once I became aware of that fact there was no way to become unaware of it. What started as a first-time hard-on from seeing her in a sexy bikini, soon progressed into a fulltime obsession. My teenage hormones were out of control, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop myself from admiring my mom's body. My admiration quickly blossomed into fantasy, and inevitably I soon found myself jerking off to thoughts of her. At first it was just images I had stored in my head -- her ass in that bikini, glimpses down her shirt, her bending over -- but that too evolved. I soon began picturing us hugging and kissing, touching each other's bodies, and then more and more.
I should point out that my mom was not like any of my other friends' moms. My mom was still young, still with what was going on in the world. Because of her good looks, she had been somewhat of a wild child, drinking and partying at an early age. Which resulted in her being pregnant with me at an early age, she had me when she was only nineteen. I never met my father, don't even have one listed on my birth certificate, but I never really felt that I was lacking in any way. Growing up, Mom got married twice (I think mostly to try and provide that father figure she felt I needed), but neither lasted very long, the second ending when I was twelve years old. From then on it was just the two of us.
Which was fine by me. We lived together in a two bedroom apartment, and she worked full time in order to support us, so I was afforded a lot of free time without supervision and was often home by myself. That was the case one day when I arrived home from school a couple weeks after the bikini incident. Like usual she was still at work and wouldn't be home for at least a couple hours. I went into the bathroom to take a piss and happened to notice some clothes on the floor next to the hamper. I bent down and picked them up, and was ready to deposit them into the hamper when I realized that I was holding a pair of my mom's sexy, lacy panties. I'm not sure why, but just looking at them sent a tingle throughout my body, and before I knew it, I had raised them to my face. As I sniffed their aroma, I found myself welcomed into a whole new world of sexual bliss -- the incredible, wonderful smell of pussy.
The smell was incredible, and instantly I found myself fully aroused. I ran the silky fabric across my face, inhaling deeply over and over, pulling her scent deep into my nostrils. I had never encountered anything like this before, and was immediately lost in the sensation. Without ever making a conscious decision, I found myself with my pants down and jerking off furiously, all the while sniffing deeply of my mother's stained panties. Almost immediately I came like a freight-train, spraying all over the bathroom wall.
From then on, almost everyday when I came home from school, I would search through the clothes hamper until I found her panties she'd worn the previous day. Then I'd rub them across my face, centering the soiled cotton crotch directly against my nose, and inhale her womanly scent while jerking my cock. I'd imagine she was standing in front of me, and it really was her pussy (or ass as oftentimes as not) that I had my face buried in. Then I'd suck the dirty fabric into my mouth, trying to taste her, imagining in vain that it was her I was licking instead. In no time at all, I would be shooting come all over, my fantasy fulfilled for the day.
Afterward, I'd clean up and return the panties to where I'd found them, feeling guilty about jacking off to thoughts of my mom and telling myself that this was the last time, but then the next day I'd come home from school and eagerly do it all over again. Occasionally, I was rewarded with an overly odiferous pair, and these I'd sometimes take to my room and hide until I went to bed that night. Then I'd retrieve them and masturbate a couple of times while inhaling their smelliness and fantasizing about what I'd like to do to my mom.
This--me fantasizing about, and jerking off to, my mother's underwear--continued on rampantly for the rest of that school-year and summer. Then I went off to college and, for the most part, forgot about my mom's hot, sexy body and the many things I wanted to do to it. Every once in a while though, I would wake up with a huge erection and the last images of her and I locked in some kind of dirty, nasty sex still in my mind. These dreams seemed somehow more vivid and real than any other erotic dreams I had, and sometimes even brought me to orgasm. Still, even these faded after a couple years, and I went on with normal life, convinced that it had just been a phase and that I wasn't really a pervert.
Now, four years later, all those many incestuous thoughts and dreams were washing over me once again like a tidal wave. Only this time... well, this time maybe there was something I could do about it. It seems I really was a pervert after all.
--------------
I had decided to come home for Christmas. It wasn't the first time I'd been back since leaving for college, but it was the first in a couple of years. Mom knew I was coming and picked me up at the airport. After dropping my bags off (she still lived in the same apartment and still kept a room for me, although it was now cluttered with a bunch of her stuff), she announced that she was taking me out for dinner.
We had a nice dinner, splitting a bottle of wine (which she drank most of, wine not being my thing), and caught up on things. After dinner, we stopped at the local bar and decided to have a couple drinks before returning home. I had drank with my mom a few times that final summer before college -- like I said, she was still young and remembered how things were when you were a teenager. She knew what college life was going to be like and was okay with me drinking as long as I was safe and responsible. That being said, I'd never
really
drank while around her. A couple beers at most. But now things were different, now I was completely legal and had been doing my share of partying over the past few years.
So we had a couple of drinks and a shot to celebrate (belatedly) my 21
st
birthday, and then a couple more drinks and then another shot, all the while just talking about what's new. All of a sudden, I realized that I was getting pretty drunk and that I didn't want to get
too
drunk in front of Mom. Then looking at her, I saw that I needn't have worried--she was already quite drunker than I. It seems college does build up one's tolerance.
"Alright," I told her, "I think it's time for us to get going." I paid our bar tab, and decided that we'd better not drive. Luckily, our apartment was only a few blocks away, and walked the short distance without incident.
We probably should have just called it a night right then, but since we were already pretty tipsy, we decided to have another. Mom poured us a couple of vodka and Sprites, and we plopped down on the couch and continued to talk. I don't recall exactly how we got around to it (and it's not really important anyway), but ultimately Mom started crying and telling me how much she loved me, and how sorry she was that I didn't have a father growing up and such. So I hugged her and told her how much I loved her too, and how I didn't blame her or anything like that.
So there we sat, holding each other, telling each other how much we loved one another, both apologizing for nothing. Each 'I love you' was followed by a kiss, and each kiss was held just a little bit longer than the last, and like I said, I'm not sure who actually made the first move (although I really do believe it was her) but suddenly we were making out instead of just kissing.
As this realization dawned on me, it took all of about two seconds for my cock to pop to attention and all of my old fantasies to come rushing back into my head. I knew that this was wrong, and that I was drunk and she drunker, but I had no intention of stopping it now that it had started. In fact, I was sure that this would be the only chance to ever make my dreams become a reality, and I decided to do everything I could to see it through.
