Cursed By Lust For Her Son

West Chester, Pennsylvania two weeks before Halloween.

Joe crouched down on the upper steps of the old Courthouse in Darlington Street pleading with Moira on the phone. He could barely hear her over the late October gusts swirling leaves around the building's massive Greek revivalist columns. The night was dark and cold, like her words. After her brief, cruel farewell the phone went dead and he buried his head in his hands. In a little while someone gripped his arm so tight it hurt. He looked up, and a grim face stared down at him. Mr. Policeman. Joe knew the cops in this town were different. If they even were cops. He was instantly afraid.

"You don't belong here, sonny. Courthouse is closed. Don't make me take my shades off."

The cop wore sunglasses, even though it had been dark for hours. Joe stood up, nodded in obedience, and hurried back to his home three blocks away in Hemlock Alley. He wiped away tears as he went.

He arrived at the front porch and tried to compose himself. When he pushed open the door of his mother's tidy rowhouse the wind blew the junk mail off the entry hall table. He bent over to pick it all up. His mom and sister looked up at him as he made his clumsy entrance. Mom was on the sofa watching TV, while his sister was sitting next to her painting her nails. He sat down on the La-Z-Boy recliner opposite, in a state of shock at the loss of his girlfriend, unable to speak.

Tonight his sister Karen was wearing everything black: blouse, crepe miniskirt, thigh-high leggings. Joe considered his sister too old for the Gothic Lolita look - she was older than him and he was nineteen - but she was short, slender, and looked younger than her age. So it kinda worked. Her crepe miniskirt fluffed up like a tutu when she sat down and Joe could glimpse her black silky underwear. He held his breath, trying to keep his emotions to himself. Afraid to let his pain show.

His mother sat curled up in her house-coat, flashing occasional glimpses of her beautiful body under her nightie. She was in her early forties, slim, a former model, still attractive. Petite, dark and Italian-looking. They both glanced across the room at him. His sister saw the expression on his face, and smirked.

"What's up, Joe? Moira dump you?" Joe's eyes filled and he could not prevent tears from rolling down his cheek. "Ha! She did, didn't she? It was only a matter of time," she added, and went back to her nails. His mom looked at him closely. She arose, frowning with concern, and walked over to him. She bent down in front of him, her breasts inches in front of his face.

"Has Moira really dumped you?" Her face dipped down close to his and he could smell her fragrance as she took his hand and stroked it. She looked at the phone he was clutching.

"Yes, Mom."

He felt so ashamed. She sat down next to him on the side of the recliner and put her arm around him, her leg touching his side. He could feel the warmth from her body flowing into him. A long smooth expanse of thigh appeared as her house coat fell to the side. He could see the usual fiery warmth in his mother's eyes as she squeezed him affectionately. He was used to it, although his friends always remarked on the look his mother gave him. He ignored them. As his mother stroked his hair, his sister piped up from the sofa once more, mock encouragement in her voice.

"Hey Joe, go down to Party World. It's open for Halloween. Buy a love charm or a spell to make Moira come back. That's your best bet." She smiled sweetly at him.

"He'll do no such thing!" shot back his mother in anger. He saw his sister wilt. She had forgotten their mother's absolute ban on any talk of witchcraft in the home.

"I'm going to bed," his Mom said, trembling, as if startled by her own outburst. "You should go to bed, too. Coming, Joey?" She took his hand and pulled him up. Meekly he followed, watching his mother's body sway in front of him as she led him up the stairs to his room. She opened his bedroom door and ushered him inside, patting his behind as he passed her.

"Moira wasn't good enough for you, anyway. Goodnight, sweet boy of mine." She closed the door behind him.

Before he closed the drapes, Joe looked out of his window. He could see some figures hurrying home under the street lamps, maybe students from the university after a night out in the town. He kicked off his shoes, long pants, and unbuttoned his shirt. He lay back on his bed, the phone still in his hand. He thought about Moira.

He clicked on the pics she had sent him only a few weeks before. Moira was athletic and blonde with an attitude. He flicked through them slowly. Moira in a bikini. Moira in a bar. Moira holding his cock. Unconsciously his hand crept down inside his jockeys and grasped his dick. He held it, squeezed, and gently tugged, never intending to take it further. It got bigger. He thought about all the times he had put his fingers up Moira's pussy, making her so wet. Automatically, his hand picked up speed as he called up more images of Moira.

He was transported, thinking about their times together. Maybe these pictures were all he would ever have, now. He remembered cumming all over her swimsuit as she jacked him off when they were down on the Brandywine in the summer, and her laughter as she waded into the river to wash it off. That memory pulled the trigger. He never meant to cum. With a sob he let go of himself when he felt it rising up his stiff shaft. But it was too late. Now hands-free, his cock started to jerk up and down of its own accord and with every jerk a gout of cum sailed out and landed on his belly and chest. He tried to make sure his shirt wasn't getting soaked, tried not to get any on the clean comforter and sheets his mom had just washed. He was mostly successful. But he was covered in it. His own sticky cum. He reached across for the box of tissues on his bedside table. Empty. With a curse and another sob he got up carefully and headed to the bathroom.

*Mom's Secret*

Joe's mom stood up from the toilet bowl and fluffed her nightie down. She washed her hands and looked at herself in the mirror. Getting older. But considering the burden she had carried all her adult life, not bad. She looked at her breasts, barely hidden by the thin cotton nightie. She missed her husband so deeply, so painfully. Then there was Joey. She kissed the crucifix around her neck and said two prayers, one for her son and one for herself. She washed her face and dried it. Time for bed. She switched off the bathroom light, then remembered she needed some skin cream from the bathroom drawer. She fumbled around in the dim light from the window and found it. She stood up, pulled open the bathroom door and collided with her son as he almost fell through the doorway. She caught him before he fell and clasped him to her as he found his feet. She reached out and switched the light back on. Now the bright light shone on him as he stood there sheepishly. She took a step back, her breasts and belly wet with something.

"Sorry, mom. I didn't see a light on."

She looked him up and down. His eyes were downcast. He was wearing an unbuttoned long sleeve shirt and the clean white briefs she had put in his room that very morning. The briefs didn't look so clean any more. The bulge from his cock and balls was prominent, the center of a large wet patch spreading out, turning the dry white cotton grey and slimy. Her eyes gazed at his slick belly and chest, his open shirt flapping by his sides. She saw streaks of creamy wetness criss-crossing his body, some of it dripping down to his briefs. It was obvious what he had been doing. She pushed past him before he could say any more. She inhaled and could smell the semen on him. It was strong.

"It's all yours, Joey."

She heard him close the bathroom door behind her as she hurried to her own bedroom. She shut her door and stood in front of the full length mirror. Her nightie was stuck to her breasts and belly with wetness. The unmistakable scent of her son's sperm wafted up to her face as her body heat released its essence.

She took a deep breath and felt an erotic desire of such power she had never experienced before. Soaked in her son's cum. Wetting her nightie. Wetting her skin. She opened her palms and flattened her nightie against her body, making sure that her skin made maximum contact with the wet garment. Then she lifted her hands to her face and cupped her nose and mouth. The strong distinctive smell of her son's semen. She licked both palms and exulted in the familiar flavor, missing from her life since her husbands passing.

She flung herself on her bed and lay back straight, looking up at the ceiling as her hand crept down to her wet crotch, fingering and rubbing herself. She was already very wet. She hitched up her nightie above her waist and bunched it around her breasts, delighting in its forbidden contents.

She opened her bedside drawer and pulled out an old black picture album. Photos of her husband, her daughter, and of course Joey. Tonight she was only interested in Joey. She was on fire. She turned to the more recent ones of him, taken only last year as a freshman down at the Shore. He was in his swim shorts, dripping wet having just emerged from the water like a young Neptune. She marveled at his youthful chiseled body, his superb ass, the fascinating bulge in his crotch, and most of all the look of love he gave to the camera (she had taken the pics of course).

She thought about what she had just seen. Her son covered in his own sperm, which he had inadvertently gifted to her. She rubbed and wriggled and squeezed herself, pushing her fingers inside a little then slowly and softly back out over her slick labia in a lazy circle. Over and over, then a little faster, looking at her son. Soon she lay back panting as the orgasm swept over her, the photo album discarded next to her, the bed now wet with her juices.

How many times had she done this, looking at photos of him? Countless. But never, ever, had she touched her son in that way. She had never crossed that line. He had no idea that she craved his body day and night.

After a while she got up and peeked out the window at the town of West Chester. Her mind drifted back twenty two years. She opened her bedside drawer and pulled out another black book. She opened it and found the page she was looking for, scuffed and dog-eared. On it was a photo of an old boyfriend, Rab, taken while he was asleep and without his knowledge. The photo, secured by transparent adhesive tape, bowed out a little as if something was hidden underneath it. Rab, she had discovered, was a strange and powerful person. A man she now knew to be the essence of evil. She had kept the photo to remind herself of her hatred for him.

He was a black magician. She didn't know it then, but she knew it now. Turned out West Chester was infested with them. The town was a global crossroads of the occult where the forces of The Lord wrestled interminably with Satan's disciples and the Black Magi in a three cornered contest that had been going on for two centuries.

Rab had not taken well to being dumped. He had hurled terrible curses in Latin at her in an uncontainable fury. Then he told her what they meant. It was a subtle, but vicious curse. She was to be damned with an overwhelming sexual desire for her firstborn male. The curse could only be lifted by having full carnal relations with her son. Once she did that, all her desire for him would disappear. Leaving her to deal with the consequences of her incest. A gotcha curse of the worst kind.

Of course, she didn't believe it. She laughed it off, went her own way, found a nice man and married him. She had given birth to Karen first. No problem. Then Joseph came along. To her horror and shame as her son grew up she realized the curse was real. Her husband, whom of course she never told, had been a blessing. A tower of strength. She wanted to run as far away from West Chester as possible. But he had a good job at QVC Studios and refused to move. But when he had died five years ago, and Joseph approached manhood, it had taken every ounce of her willpower not to rip her son's clothes off every day. It still did.

The only acts she permitted herself were alone, in private. Thinking about Joey. She hoped God would forgive her for that. Her priest, Father Antony, was well aware of the real dangers existing in the town. But he knew nothing of this abomination. She shut her journal and put it back down on the bedside table. She got into bed and tried to sleep.

*Joe goes shopping.*

On Saturday Joe moped around, visited friends at the university, and ended up walking back into the center of town in the afternoon. At a strip mall on Gay Street he found a popup Party World Halloween Shop and he wandered inside, looking at the kiddies supplies. Soon bored, he left and turned along the sidewalk. Right next to the Party World was another popup, a tiny store that used to be a Radio Shack. All Hallows' Supplies it said in big black letters. He looked in the window and pushed open the door. The smell of perfumes and incense was overpowering, and it was quite dark even though the sun was shining brightly outside. He looked around. Jewelry, amulets, charms. Strange-looking books. No costumes. No kids stuff. A girl who had been down behind the counter straightened up.

"How can I help you?"

She had auburn hair, wore a metallic gold sheath emblazoned with black Kabbalist symbols that shimmered over her curvy body, and she smiled at him with a face that reminded him of Scarlett Johannsson in one of her raunchier roles.

He looked her in the eye and the words just came right out. "My girl's dumped me. Her name's Moira. I want her back."

"I'm so sorry. My name is Alicia. What is your name? Do you prefer a love potion or love charm?" She raised her eyebrows inquisitively. Very matter of fact.

He took a step back from the counter in surprise. The words had come out of his mouth unbidden."My name's Joe. How much does it cost? What if it doesn't work?"

"It's on a trial basis. If it doesn't work, no obligation. If it does you pay later. Much later. I recommend a potion for your particular problem. Sign this."

"What's the catch?" Joey looked over the document she had put in front of him. It was in Latin.

Alicia looked a little embarrassed. "Well... I need your soul. When you die of course. Not right now."

Joe grinned and relaxed. He was enjoying this charade. Obviously some sort of joke. "I don't believe in an immortal soul, and I don't think your potion will work."

"Excellent," she murmured, her eyes burning bright, like dark embers in the grate heating up in a sudden draught when an outside door is opened. She waved the contract at him. "Sign here. There's a short English translation. It captures most of the key points." Alicia stroked the back of his hand ever so gently as she gave him the pen.

Joe leaned over to read. Sure enough, in return for his soul at his natural death he was entitled to receive a potion ensuring that 'Your chosen will come to you willingly and consumed with desire'.

"Okay." Joe signed, laughing. "Where's the potion?"

Alicia dipped down behind the counter and retrieved a small pot from a chest freezer. Joe watched her ass as she bent over. The pot was the size and appearance of a half pint ice cream tub. She placed it on the counter in front of him. "It must be kept frozen until consumption. This one is strawberry. I hope Moira likes strawberry?"

Joe nodded. He wasn't sure what this was all about but Alicia had been worth the visit. He picked up the tub and turned towards the door. "See ya, Alicia."

"My pleasure, Joseph."

He paused outside and turned to get a final glimpse of her, but the shimmering reflection of the sunlight on the glass made the interior seem as dark as night. A policeman was watching him from across the street. The cop looked amused. He hurried home, labeled the pot 'Joe's DO NOT TOUCH', and hid it behind some frozen fish in the freezer. He would find a safer place the next day. It was Saturday night and Joe didn't like to miss Saturday night in the town, even without Moira on his arm. He changed his clothes and headed out the door, yelling goodnight to his mom who was upstairs changing for her all-night shift at CVS.

*Joe and his sister revisit their relationship*

Joe stumbled back home at two am. He'd been to one of the frat houses in town. He wasn't a student at WCU- he commuted into Philly to Temple - but he had a lot of friends at the university. Handy for parties. He burst into the house and unintentionally slammed the door behind him. He was glad his mom was out. But the lights were on.

His sister was sitting on the sofa. She had perfected the Goth look she had been working on earlier and was in the same black crepe mini, with a black satin button-down blouse and a dark grey bow. Her face was white with pancake foundation and her eyes were peeping out from thick black eyeliner. Her legs in thigh-high woolly stockings were crossed daintily, her ankle boots teetering on her toes as she wriggled them about playfully. Joe took in all of this in an instant. He also saw, with shock, that his sister was daintily dipping a small spoon into a little pot that looked familiar. She looked at him with dreamy eyes.

"I found it hidden in the freezer. You should learn to share. Want some? It's really nice. Strawberry."

Joe leaned down and snatched the pot away from her. He looked inside. She'd eaten about half, and the rest was melting fast. He was furious. "Karen! I'm putting it back in the freezer. Don't touch it again. It's a gift for someone else." He went off to put it back in the freezer. When he returned his sister was looking at him funny.

"Sit next to me, Joey," she ordered in a breathless voice.

Only his mom ever called him Joey. His sister usually called him dickhead. He sat down next to her and looked at her closely. "How do you feel?"

She looked at him with wide eyes and moist lips. "Horny and wet."

Joe reeled. It couldn't possibly be true. The potion worked? His sister's hand crept across the sofa and with no subterfuge whatsoever grasped his crotch. He could feel her fingers on his balls and cock. He jumped up and backed away. His sister, still smiling at him, leaned sideways and felt around behind one of the cushions. She pulled out mom's 'home-defense' 45 caliber Glock and pointed it at him.

"Fuck me or I'll shoot you right now."

Joe felt real fear grip his heart as he stared down the barrel of a gun for the first time in his life. He tried to stay calm and think. Could he run? Joe dragged his gaze away from the Glock and looked her in the eye.

"No, no, no. You're my sister. What happens when we wake up tomorrow? You're not yourself tonight, Karen. You hate me, remember? We hate one another."

Her finger was on the trigger. Mom kept it loaded, of course. Joe knew that his sister's firearm safety and proficiency skills were zero. The thing could go off anytime. She patted the sofa. Trembling, he sat down again beside her.

"Take your pants off."

He undid his belt and pushed his trousers down to his ankles. His shoes were still on. She gestured with the Glock to pull down the rest. He did so, and a very frightened small dick made its appearance lying next to his thigh. Joe watched his sister's eyes widen with excitement.

"Adorable. Swing your legs around and lie back on the sofa."

She stood up, still pointing the gun at him. He did as he was told. Now he had his pants round his ankles he could not run away. She dropped to her knees on the floor, the Glock still pointed at him and with her other hand she took his entire shrunken cock in her mouth. Her tongue started to work on him in the warm sloppy embraces of her mouth, teeth nibbling and caressing. His cock started to grow, very slowly.