Lambs of Lust

Author's Notes: All characters within are 18 years or older.

This story features heavy use of mother-son incest.

This is going to be the first of a series of stories centered on the Lamb family, and in particular Andrew Lamb the sole male. Living with his mother and sister, he will evolve from a virgin shut in. But just how does his mother help with that?.... exposure.

Thank you neuroparenthetical and Rusty for all the feedback and editing on this story. couldn't have done it without you!

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Lambs of Lust: Exposure

"Did you hear from Tina? She told me Jim was out of town this week on business...

...well yes Abigail's gone too but I thought it would be nice to get together.

He has schoo-

Julia I don't want to get into it with you now.is living at home to afford college.

What does it matter if it's just commun college?

Abigail and Andrew are different people. Don't compare them.

He's your grandson... don't talk about him like that.

Well if that's your attitude maybe it's best we don't get together this weekend.

Uh-huh, bye."

Irritated, the widow pinched the top of her nose and took a deep breath. Flinging the phone to the counter, Amber Lamb's eyes turned to the picture of her family on the far wall to find her mental equilibrium. Her late husband, flanked by her children, smiled back at her in a bronze frame.

That was all she needed to turn from the sulk her mother-in-law put her in, soon breaking into a sweet hum to match the sizzle of the skillet on the stove. This evening could not go wrong as far as mother Lamb was concerned. Neither her children's growth into young adults or their mother-in-law's judgment could stop her.

As Amber flipped a few mushrooms in the pan and watched the gelatinous sauce slide over them, she wondered if all her crunchiness was why they had not left. Some in the extended family, like Julia, had alluded to the possibility in the years since Marvin's death. More have piled on their harshest judgements to her 20-year old shut in son Andrew.

Unlike Abigail, an 18-year-old high school senior, Andrew did not seem to have much of a future. His inclination for staying in his room playing video games, instead of participating in school activities or studying like his sister, had not gotten him far.Coupled with his scrawny and uncouth appearance, he was destined to reside in mommy's safety net for quite some time.

"Oop." Amber sat the pan down on the burner after a glob of sauce landed on her pink tank top atop her busty chest. She dabbed at it with her finger, her melon-sized tits giving to the pressure as she tried to scrape the sauce off.

"Ohhhh shoot." She fussed, upset that her favorite tank top was stained. With dinner bubbling on the stove, she hesitated, wondering if she could quickly change. Inspecting the brown color of the sauce, she nodded; she had time.

Rushing into the large master bedroom, she stood in front of the mirror with a wet washcloth. For pushing forty-two, Amber was a beautiful woman: moderate height; long, flowing brown hair wrapped in a long ponytail; a busty chest; and a tasty hourglass shape, from wide hips to skinny waist.

She wiped frantically, but steadily lost hope that her tank top could be saved. Finally, she decided it best to change and throw it immediately in the wash. Her hands grasped the bottom edge of it, pulling it up over her flat stomach. Just as the shirt began to crest her beige bra she heard the rumble of the front door closing. Her heart began racing happily, as she knew her beloved son had returned home.

"Mom, something burning?" were of course not the ideal first words she wanted to hear from him. Amber let her stained pink shirt fall back over her body as she rushed back into the main kitchen-living grand room.

"Oh shoot... thank you sweetie... ohhhh..." she groaned, finding Andrew Lamb tending to the mascarpone mushroom sauce, his backpack still on his shoulder. She ran up, quickly taking the pan and spatula from his hands and lowering the heat on the burner. Breathing a sigh of relief that dinner was not quite ruined, Amber noted that perhaps things were not going badly this evening after all.

Crisis averted, the beaming mother turned to her son near the sink. Andrew was just a hair shorter than her. Most would describe him as a gangly boy; he had lanky arms and legs, messy brown hair full of cowlicks, and a rather sloppy appearance overall. But Amber saw her pride and joy, a handsome young man who just needed his favorite meal and some tender love from his mom.

As she examined him closer, her earlier assessment of the evening not going badly may have been premature. Andrew's demeanor was exceedingly glum, a long expression, eyes that would not meet hers, and a preoccupation with staring out into space. Mommy mode kicking in instantly, Amber drew closer to solicit a hug.

"How was your day sweetie?" Her bright shining disposition was a stark contrast to his brooding. He felt almost cold as she drew him close.

"It was fine," he contradicted the impression of his demeanor.

Amber's mind raced. Her beautiful face and clear skin ruffled and breasts pressed against him as she assessed all the potential factors

Feeling the awkward sensation of his mothers hefty breasts against him, Andrew pulled back, leaving Amber a touch disappointed. His eyes were staring curiously at her chest, though. His gaze made her a little uneasy.

"Mom, you have something on your shirt," he noted. Amber felt her heart bouncing a bit; his face was close enough to expel hot breath on her cleavage.

"Oh! I got some sauce on my shirt a bit ago. I was trying to change just now when you came home and found dinner burning," she recounted with casual embarrassment.

"No, there is a big glob of it." He began to point.

"Where?" Amber looked down at the original stain and saw no such glob.

"Uh here." Andrew's response carried his finger to the breast opposite the one she'd previously wiped down. Taking initiative, the boy rubbed his thumb haphazardly upward from his mother's under-boob and unknowingly across the spot her nipple hid under her clothing.

Amber faintly squeaked. Sure enough, there was a large glob of sauce on her son's thumb, which he quickly rinsed off in the sink without any further question or trepidation. Amber, on the other hand, brought her hand to her breast. She played it off as if she was checking for more sauce, but it was really there to steady the feeling that pierced her.

"Ohhh ohhh... thank you hun." She nodded, trying to hide her heavy breaths as she awkwardly tended to dinner on the stove. Her cheeks were flushed as she toyed with the sizzling mushrooms, staring past them as she processed the last thirty seconds in her mind.

It had been a long time since she'd had the attention of a man. She was beautiful, but too engrossed in her children's lives for a fling or even a casual encounter. Not since her late husband had a man touched her on her tit. She imagined how fitting was it for a son to revisit the father's old stomping grounds. Amber didn't realize how much a little attention of that sort would affect her.

Before too long, she snapped back into her previous mode of thinking, her son's forlorn expression biting at her as she watched him cross the room.

"Anything special happen darling? Oh, I know, did your test go well?" She began mixing the meal's various ingredients together, but watched Andrew from the corner of her eye. He found the living room sofa with a plop.

"No... test was yesterday, did fine."

Amber puffed out her cheeks with a cute huff of frustration. Something was wrong with her Andrew, and she was getting no closer to finding out what it was. Setting dinner aside to cool, she marched over to the living room, her soft feet carrying her quietly enough so that, as she came above her son's rested position, she caught a glimpse of a cute girl on his phone.

"Ohhhh who's that Andrew? She is cute!" She came to the front of the couch with a wry smile. Andrew, for his part, sat up abruptly, taken by surprise by his mother's sudden appearance over him - though her nosiness was quite typical.

"Mom! Geez..." He rolled his eyes and slid his phone into his backpack. Mumbling about his mother's inquisitiveness, he made to get up from the couch and scramble for his room, but a stiff tug on his sleeve stopped him. His mother pulled him back to the couch, taking a spot close to him.

"It's just a girl off instagram, that's it," he deflected, looking to a far corner of the room.

"She goes to your college?"

"Yea she does but..."

"Ohhh so you have a little crush on her huh?" She nudged him playfully. Andrew scooted further away.

"No! It's just well she... I sorta yea think she is... but I don't really know her." His flustered fumbling was all the confirmation Amber needed.

"Ohhh... so when are you going to ask her out?" Amber gushed, placing her palms together. She was very excited that her son might actually have a love life - or that he at least wanted one - and was eager to learn more. Amber had thought him an uninterested virgin, content to live out his days in his room playing video games. Of course, that was her in-laws' line of thinking intruding on her thoughts. She'd always known Andrew could do it.

"Ask her out?!?" His tone seeped with indignation. Amber stuck out her pouting lip. Interacting with her son always made her playful.

"Are you crazy? I can't do that!" He shook his head, a tinge of frustration in his eyes.

"Of course you can sweetie! You don't expect her to come ask you out do you?" Amber dismissed his lack of confidence.

"You don't understand, Mom."

"Oh please, Of course I do. It wasn't that long ago that I was in her shoes. Handsome guys with a cool confidence approaching me were always the hottest." She made her voice sultry, and that made Andrew blush as he groaned and rubbed his face vigorously with his hands.

"Yeah that's great Mom, but I am not one of those guys," he insisted.

"Of course you are sweetie. You're handsome! I'm sure if you just walk up to her and ask, she would melt right into your arms." Her fingers strayed to her son's hair, fussing with it around his ears. They ran softly through his locks for several moments before he brushed them away.

"No Mom, you don't get it!" He just kept getting more agitated. Amber's cheeriness faded as she placed her hands in her lap. It was just as she'd feared: her son had no confidence. The constant judgment of those who claimed to love him was weighing on his mind.

"I can't go talk to her because I'm me! I don't have the guts to just go up to a girl and talk to her. I've hardly ever talked to any girls in my life!" His voice was near shouting as he carried on. Amber felt frozen in place.

"That's not true... you've had girlfriends before." Her reassurance was only met by a glare. "What about that girl with the pink hair highlights that one time at the supermarket?" Her recollection of a rather punkish-looking girl that had waved to Andrew at the store one time was hazy at best.

"Mom, she was just a lab partner I had," Andrew scoffed.

"Oh... well, then, the girl who came over here that one time? The one with the curls?"

"Mom, she was selling something."

"Oh...." Amber tapped her chin, trying very hard to think of an instance her son had had sustained contact with the opposite sex. She wondered if perhaps they were on to something here, despite how much she wanted to boost her son's ego.

All her best efforts were simply making the girl-averse boy more frustrated. Amber's mouth opened and closed a few more times in an attempt to conjure up words of encouragement, but the silence endured.

"It's just... I know you think of me as this well-rounded and handsome son. It's just I am not. The older I get, the less I think of myself." Andrew's tone solemn as he stared at the stale brown carpet. It had been a few years since he had opened up to her. He'd been much more open with her about his feelings back when his father had died.

Amber's heart sank. She wanted to reach out to her boy and give him all her love, but she realized that it was not a mother's love he needed.

"It's just... I haven't talked to girls because I feel so much smaller than them. Just worthless, sort of." He mumbled his last thought, worried that he was perhaps opening up too much, but knowing that his mother wouldn't let it go.

"Andrew..." Amber reached her soft hand out to his shoulder, but the boy stood up swiftly, heading for his room.

"It's fine Mom, I'll be fine." He shook his head, as if it would shake the feeling away.

"Let me know when dinner is ready. I'm just going to get changed." He swung his backpack over his shoulder and disappeared. Amber heard the sound of his door slamming shut.

Amber sat on the couch for a moment, contemplating what her son was going through. Her heart sank further as she thought about his life, and how he must be regretting all the things that had happened. His father dying five years ago had been hard on him, and part of her wondered if only a father, not a mother, could give him the help he needed.

A timer chimed in the kitchen, snapping her back into reality. Her brows furrowed as she clenched her fist. She knew she could not bring his father back, but she had to do the best she could despite the circumstances.

A few minutes passed as Amber prepared dinner: pasta with a brownish red sauce, bread, and other courses that she hoped would fill her son's empty heart through his stomach. Like everything Amber did as a mother, it was a bit overboard. She even took the time to arrange each place setting in a decorative way. If Andrew did not know better, he would expect house guests.

Looking at the spread, she took a deep breath, praying for nothing but the world for her son. Two places were set on the long formal table, one at the head for the man of the house, and her spot just to the right of it.

"Andrew, dinner is ready," she called out, fluttering her apron.

Dutifully, she stood next to the table waiting for him, hands crossed in front of her as she anxiously fiddled with her fingers. She knew he would take his time getting to the table, as usual, but given his frame of mind, she didn't mind it at all. In fact, as the door to his room opened, she could feel her heart flutter with nervousness.

Rounding the corner to the dining nook,, Andrew paused.

"Where is Abigail?" he asked, his eyes conspicuously looking at the lonely pair of placements.

"Oh, she is on a school trip this week. It's just you and me tonight." She watched as he found his seat at the table.

Grasping his fork, the boy let go of a small smirk, content to dig into his favorite home-cooked meal. After a few bites, though, he paused. He noticed that his mother wasn't eating, but simply looking at him with an expression far deeper than motherly adoration.

"'Mom?" he questioned, slipping a bite into his mouth as the sauce spilled over onto his chin.

"Oh..." she said as her son made a mess of himself, leaning over the table to wipe at his chin with her thumb. The moment passed by slower than any that evening. Her thumb met his cheek. Andrew greeted it with a wince while pulling away some. The twenty-year-old considered himself far too old to have his mother wipe his face for him.

Amber's breasts hung under her; she was so engulfed in the moment, Amber's breasts hung under her, lightly licking at Andrews plate of food to make companion stains on the canvas that was her shirt and apron. Feeling the warmth of the sauce on her chest she sat back in her chair, Amber pulled at the fabric and frowned.

"Mom, you're making a mess tonight." Andrew poked fun as she pursed her lips.

She really was making a mess of herself that night, though more so as a mother rather than what Andrew could see on her shirt. More and more, she felt like she was failing as a mother, falling short of both her in-laws' expectations and her son's.

Her mind returned to the moment that Andrew had slid his thumb across her breast: the chill it had made her feel, the sensation that had run down her spine. It had been awhile since momma got some from a man - about five years., She'd given everything she'd had to her children in those harrowing times. Flippantly, she wondered if hers were the only breasts Andrew had ever touched. That thought lingered far longer than she thought it would.

It was like a switch had flipped in her brain. Suddenly, the path forward was clear - frightening, but clear. If she wanted to give it all as a mother, it would be the only way to go.

"Andrew, why don't we try something? Why don't you talk to me like I'm a girl at your college?" She hadn't even taken a bite yet, twirling her fork in her noodles.

"Uh... what, why?" He stumbled and scoffed at the idea. His words were dismissive, but his eyes were full of panic. He'd already been glancing at his mother as if she were one of those college girls. Amber, even in her early forties, could give any of those hussies a run for their money.

"Mom, it's just now that... that wouldn't work." He shook his head, taking nervous, hurried bites of his food, his teeth grating across the metal fork.

"Andrew, just try. Act like I am that girl on instagram... just ask me out. Practice the words." Amber put down her fork and sat up straight, donning an alluring smile. Her folded arms pushed out her breasts - not intentionally, but more as a reflex. She was remembering her own college days, and was already feeling less like a mother and more like a woman.

"Well uh... fine." Andrew relented, his eyes scanning the ceiling cautiously. It took a moment for him to think of the words, but when he felt he had some, he brought his eyes down. They immediately fixated on his mother's body.

It was then that he froze, his mouth hanging open as if to say the lines he'd rehearsed in his head, but struggling to get past the body of a girl sitting across from him. It was just like with the girls at college, though he didn't quite remember those girls being as busty as his mom.

"Just take a deep breath sweetie." Amber smiled at him, chin resting on her hand as she anxiously waited. She thought to herself how pitiful he was, watching him fail to even get out a few words. His eyes were also fixated on her chest, which made her blush feverishly.

There was even a second where she felt his eyes fall to her cleavage. Her little boy was ogling her breasts as he struggled to find a pickup line to play off his mom. Amber's heart had raced as she let it go on, something about the feeling of him stammering over her, eyes drinking her a long-lost pleasure.

"Hun... take a deep breath... what's wrong?" She placed a hand over his and caressed it with her thumb.

Andrew sighed, his hand wiping the sweat from his face.

"See it's just.. this is exactly it, I can't talk to beautiful girls like this. Even you, Mom. I just get lost and feel so inferior." His frustration grew, but Amber was caught up in him calling her beautiful.

"Inferior?!" Amber detested that idea being in her son's head.

"Honey, you are not at all inferior...." she grasped his cheek and softly rolled her thumb across his temple.

"Girls are just people, just like you, just like me..." Her mind went somewhere that made her hesitate.

"No... they aren't like me, they are... just like these unapproachable people. Whenever they talk to me or I talk to them, I just... I don't feel like I can do it."

They sat silently at the finely set table, both thinking about where they were in their lives. Andrew was a year-old failure to launch, unable to talk to women - even his mother when she pretended to be another woman. Amber was a single mother who had given everything to her children since her husband's untimely death. She felt like she was failing her son, but at the same time, felt an itch welling up within her that she could not reconcile.