Oedipus Conquest

WARNING: If you are not 18 or older, please leave this page immediately.

Incest—a word that has extreme negative connotations. The image that most often comes about when the word is mentioned is that of a father forcing himself on his daughter. Any forcible sex act, especially done by a parent to a child, should result in the parent being punished in legal and non-legal ways.

This is a fantasy of consensual incest between adults. It is intended for adults who are interested in reading about consensual sex between relatives. If this offends you, do not continue any further.

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"Success is something you gotta want," the business class professor declared.

Peter smiled.

"It's gotta be something you need!"

The good-looking college junior nodded his head.

"It's gotta be something you want and need...to conquer and possess!!"

While listening to his professor, his mind was matching the words of his teacher to his own personal thoughts. The "success" and "it" was actually a woman.

I want...her. I need her. I want and need to conquer her...to possess her! To please her. To feel those magnificently large breasts yearning for attention. To taste that starving pussy, in all its pink and wet glory. To fuck this woman—on top, from behind—to enter her and hear her moan in long-forgotten pleasure and satisfaction. To take her heart. To make... her mine!

"If your competition isn't delivering the goods, then it is your right to go in and take it from them. Show the customers you can provide a value-added product or service, and satisfy them."

Yes, he isn't delivering the goods. He hasn't for a long time. He makes her very unsatisfied, unattended to, and unloved—physically, sexually, and emotionally. I can do better. I

know

I can do better! 'Value-added product'—I got several. I have exactly seven inches of manhood which will add value to her luscious cunt and mouth. I have a tongue and lips which will add value to her neglected nipples and clit. Most of all, I have a heart which I want only her to possess—this is value beyond compare!

The "he" was Peter's father. The "her" was his mother.

Over the past couple of years, the young man saw his father become so preoccupied with work and friends at the expense of his mother. The man, it appeared, intentionally made little-to-no time for his wife. This exasperated the son.

Your wife looks like Demi Moore and you'd rather apply for unnecessary overtime or hang out with your bar buddies instead of spending time with her?!

This boggled the 21 year-old's mind. He loved both his parents, but he loved his mother more (as most boys do). Seeing what the son deemed was injustice brought upon his dad's ignoring his mom caused Peter to love her even more than him.

Peter saw his mother, Valerie, as the perfect wife. She was faithful to her husband, adored him with physical signs of affection and loving playfulness. She took pride in her own part-time job and in maintaining the house. She was intelligent. Her personality was sweet. Her looks were stunning. Peter knew his mother was a raven-haired 42 year-old beauty whose figure put many of his co-ed classmates to shame. Initially Peter just viewed his mother's beauty with a son's natural pride. This changed six weeks ago.

It was the third week of August and the weather was hot. Humidity was surprisingly low but the heat was rising. Little did Peter know how hot it was really going to get, or what else would rise. He had planned to go out with his girlfriend. He walked the half-mile to her house when he saw her getting in the family sedan.

"Hey babe, where are you?"

"My boss called me. The other girl called out and he asked me to come in. Didn't you get my text?"

D'oh! Peter's cell phone was charging at home.

"No. I left my phone home."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she apologized demurely. "I'll make it up to." She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him, and slipped her tongue quickly into his mouth. At the same time, she brushed her crotch against his. She released her hold, winked, and then opened the car door.

"Bye."

The car drove off.

Disappointed and now—thanks to her body motions—slightly horny, Peter turned around and sauntered back to his house. Along the way, the sun's rays made him decide a dip in the pool was in order. He hoped his parents weren't around so that he could bust a nut first. When he got close to home, he took the customary turn onto the pathway which led downward to the Cape Cod structure. He mused to himself that his house was literally off the beaten path.

After he locked the door and started toward the back of the house for the pool, the college student stopped in his tracks when he heard a low moan. Peter smiled to himself. He summarized his parents were getting it on the private deck which was adjacent to the pool.

"Ooohhhh, Alex."

Hearing his father's name called by his mother caused his smile to get wider.

"It's about time, he spent

quality

time with Mom," he concluded to himself.

Curiosity—and the still-lingering horniness—caused the young man to tip-toe toward the sunning deck. He got to the window overlooking the deck, figuring to take a quick peek at his folks fucking, wish he was doing that with his girlfriend, then make a hasty retreat to his room to spank his growing monkey. He leaned against the living room wall and stealthfully peered through the glass.

"Oh, shit!" was his mind's first response. Then his jaw dropped.

On a sunning lounge was just his mother, Valerie. His buxom and beautiful mom was reclining on the lounger, in a royal blue bikini, eyes closed, and masturbating.

"Ohhhhh!" she swooned.

"Oh, shit," he mentally repeated.

Valerie had both palms over the flimsy material of the bikini top which did a lousy job in covering her heaving breasts. She rubbed her tits, first on the top of the quivering globes and then underneath them. It was when she cupped them that Peter's throat felt dry. He could see her hard nipples, poking through the blue fabric like mountain peaks. It always turned him on to see a woman's excited nipples poke through clothes. The fact that this was his mother had no bearing on him. Her dedicated fingers were tweaking the pointy, fat nubs, rolling them and pulling on them through the top.

Eyes still closed, the brunette wetted her lips. "Mmmmm," she appraised in between heavy breaths.

Peter's view was now taken to below his mother's waist, thanks to her undulating hips. They were your typical mature, flared hips. In the scant bikini bottom, the blue against her slightly tanned skin and their motions made the maternal hips look alluring. Her legs—long and sleek, and her feet—bare with red nail polish on the wiggling toes—were slightly parted, revealing the ultimate viewing pleasure. The eyes of the astonished son blinked repeatedly as he looked where he thought he'd never look, where he'd never think his pupils would be—locked onto his mother's vagina. The parental sex was encased in the thin cloth—stretched in the thin cloth...and left nothing to the imagination in terms of Valerie's condition.

"Fuck!" Peter yelled inside his head. A stain was prominently showing on the front of the panties portion of his mother's bikini. He was now fully erect.

For a few more seconds, Valerie adored her needy boobs with both hands. The right one would soon let go of that breast and quickly descended as she cursed.

"Shit, Alex why aren't you here when I am horny?!"

The X-rated admonishment jolted Peter out of his horny stupor. Her hand action returned him to the stupor in a nanosecond.

He started releasing a very low, "Ohhh," and then failed to complete it as he seemed to loose his voice. Peter was taken back as his mother slid her hand under the waistband of the bikini bottoms, driving deep into the gusset, and began to feverishly rub her cunt.

First it was a circular motion. Then it was up and down. Next, under the bikini, she spread her labia. Then her fingers arched, tenting the fabric. Despite the thin veil, it was obvious that the mother was now finger-fucking herself. Her middle digit pumped in and out of her hot, hungry hole as her bent knees started to bounce. Her manipulation increased the growing wetness of her slit. She did this at the same time her other hand remained glued to her breast and nipple, lovingly tending to them. Her cute, painted toes—pointed diagonally in the air —curled.

The masturbating mom's full facial lips formed an "O." Initially she was silent. Then she exhaled a long, "Ohhhh!"

Peter was a big Kiss fan. Of their three drummers, his namesake was his favorite. In the 1975 live version of

100,000 Years,

the original Catman did an amazing drum solo. Peter felt like his heart was beating faster than the drums in the song.

After almost a minute, Valerie opened her eyes at the same time she removed her hand from underneath her bikini bottoms and brought it to her face. She dreamily looked at the shiny palm and five fingers, the middle one being the shiniest. She put her hand to her nose, taking in a deep breath.

"Hmmmm!" she relished in smelling her own fresh musk.

Next she stuck the middle finger, the one most-coated with her love oils, into her mouth and greedily sucked it. She withdrew the finger with a resounding pop and then began to lick her palm and the other four fingers. In a matter of seconds, Valerie's secretion had been laved off her hand and sent down her adoring throat.

"Tastes so good," the overheating wife summarized hoarsely.

The son was astounded. As if his astonishment couldn't increase, it did. Valerie, in almost a trance-like state, swayed her head letting her raven mane sexily fly through the air. At the same time she reached for the front ties on the bra portion of her bikini. She pulled the strings which held together the two cupping pieces of material and pushed out her chest. A piece of drool dropped from the corner of Peter's mouth as he watched his gorgeous mother open her bikini top and release her large, bare breasts, thrusting them out and up into the afternoon sunlight. Both of her hands immediately began to fondle the freed tits, the stringy remains of the bikini top still hanging off her shoulders.

Somehow managing to keep verbally quiet Peter, upon seeing his mother's naked breasts, responded within an "Awwww, wow!" in his mind. He knew his mom had a rack; he couldn't help but notice. However, this was just the obvious, never viewed through sexually-charged eyes. Now the college student was in awe of Valerie's mammaries. He believed them to be in the 38 inch range, slightly sagging but for the most part still very full. Her puffy areolas and upright nipples were now also visible to him, making him think that he had nursed and suckled on these two beautiful tips when he was an infant.

Valerie kneaded her breasts, over and over again. She kneaded...and was in need. Enthusiastically she caressed the pair of shaking globes. She tickled and gently pinched the teats. Her tongue licked her lips as she manually serviced her excited chest. Her hips undulated as the horny parent soared into ecstasy.

"Oh! Yeah! Hmmm. Yeah, feels so good!" she wantonly crooned, before craning her neck forward to allow her tongue to lave the hard nub she was bringing to her mouth. She licked it like a kitten, then kissed the nipple and areola, then returned to licking. Her hands released that breast to cup the other one and repeat the oral steps for adoring the new peak.

Releasing the breast, Valerie yelled, "Oh fuck!" She quickly dropped her hands between her still-spread thighs. Her left hand pulled aside the sopped bikini bottom toward the inner thigh, thus exposing unknowingly to her son her dewy, aching pussy. Her right hand began to work on the fevered sex. Peter in this moment saw his first mature cunt...and the most taboo cunt of all—his mother's. The lips were pinkish and meaty. They were much meatier than his girlfriend's. They were also moist...very moist. Peter repeatedly blinked, seeing the forbidden nectar seeping out of her actual hole unto the lounger. Above the swollen petals was a small patch of black hair—matted from the wetness.

Valerie moaned in decadent delight as the flats of her fingers caressed her pussy. "Ahhhhhhh!"

After some vigorous rubbing, she repeated what she did earlier: bringing her hand to her face, inhale her own scent—this time quicker than previously—and lick her juices off her hand, also faster. With the bikini panties pushed into her inner thigh, she tasted the one hand's sticky reward while the other hand was busy tending to the vibrant twat. Then the tending hand went to the mouth while the previous one returned to the pubic region. All ten fingers caressed and spread. Both palms massaged. Secretion was savored. Valerie's vagina was in erotic delight, leaking out further sap, while her whole being soared to the heights of arousal.

"Uggghhhhh!" the busty mother groaned as she did another repeat. Using the same middle finger, she once again finger-fucked herself, this time in plain sight of her son.

At the moment Valerie started to pump her finger in and out of her open pussy—quicker and needier than before, Peter also began his own pump. Throughout this entire illicit masturbatory scene provided by his mom, he never touched himself. He was now harder than titanium. When his mother's bent finger began to frig rapidly in and out of her juicy cunt, he began to cum in his pants. His eyes, big as saucers, looked down at his tented jeans and couldn't believe he was ejaculating into his underwear without having touched himself.

"Ahhhhh, yesssss!!!!" Valerie whorishly wailed, her MILFish shape bouncing up and down as her inserted finger was accomplishing its mission: bringing her to her orgasm. Unbeknownst to her this was occurring at the same time her son was also climaxing, thanks to her.

Peter wanted to verbally announce, like his mother, the arrival of his climax. But he literally bit his lip, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the unique experience of releasing his semen into his underwear.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, FUCKING Yesssss!" howled the orgasming stunner. It made Peter open his eyes and view once again his hot, horny and nearly naked mother pump her finger in and out of her spasming, teeming pussy while her luscious hips rolled like ocean waves and her huge knockers danced about.

When it was all over for her, Valerie laid down in the lounger, clutching the arm rests for support as her breathing and vitals returned to normal. So were Peter's. He had just finished ejaculating the last of his hot load into his Calvin Klein's, and knew the show was over. He needed to extricate himself from the area immediately and quietly. He tip-toed backward, occasionally looking over his shoulder to ensure he didn't bump into anything. He reached the front door, carefully turned the handle to open the door, then slammed it shut.

"Anyone home?!"

A smile returned to his face as he heard the lounger scrape against the deck pavement. He could picture his mom hurriedly moving to fix herself. The scrape was followed by a second or two of silence, and then a worried-sounding response.

"Hi, Petey! I, I thought you were going out with Amy."

Standing in place, he yelled back, "She got called to work. I didn't see her text. I am going upstairs to check my email and then hit the pool." He figured to give her some time to gather herself together.

"Sounds good." There was relief in the tone of her voice.

Peter scampered up the steps, his now-deflated penis swaying in his collected muck. Before he entered his room, he retrieved from the bathroom an immense roll of toilet paper from the dispenser. He closed his bedroom door and laughed to himself. He started masturbating when he was 15 and during those six years never came inside his underwear. He took off his jeans and then seemed to marvel at the load in his CK's. He doubted he ever came that much with his current girl or the previous one. He stripped off the ruined jockeys, threw them in the garbage-bagged waste basket, cleaned his cock and balls with the toilet paper, and then threw the toilet paper into the basket. He replaced the trash bag with a new one and threw the now-knotted previous bag into his closet.

Good thing I have an early class tomorrow

he bemused to himself.

These will come with me and get thrown in the campus dumpster.

As he donned his swim trunks, he heard the bathroom door open and close. The sound of the shower soon followed. He knew his mother was in there. Peter left his room, passing by the bathroom with a wicked grin. When he got to the deck, he saw the lounger she had been on. He looked around to make sure no one could see him, even though the deck was private and the bathroom window faced the other side. He bent forward to inspect the lounger. There was no visual evidence of the maternal orgasm, but his nostrils twitched. He inhaled. The devilish grin reappeared. He was about to lick the seat but a pang of guilt hit him. He straightened up and headed for the edge of the pool. He felt very guilty for watching his mother play with herself, for sniffing the lounger and almost taste-testing it. Before he dove in, he recognized that he and his mother had something in common, his guilt not withstanding. They both loved the smell of her excited cunt.

The memory of that afternoon was burned into Peter's memory like a copied CD. The guilt came and went over the next few days. When it was present, its severity ranged. But other, new feelings and thoughts were being born. They centered around two topics: his mother, and his parents' marriage. He had to come with grips that he no longer saw his mother, figuratively and literally, the same again. She was still 'mom,' but her inherent womanliness and attractiveness were made evident. Her womanliness, attractiveness—and sexuality—became a thought process and an awareness of Peter's. Valerie could be standing before him in a parka, wool cap, scarf and mittens—he now knew what was under all that clothing. He never considered before or wanted to know what his mother looked like without clothes. Now? While he felt incredible guilt, he also felt a little curiosity, a little...want, to see her nude form again.

But this was mom.

But she's hot, and obviously horny. It bothered him...yet enticed him, ever so slightly.

In terms of his parents' marital relationship, Peter knew there was a big problem. His father was preoccupied with other things, putting his devoted spouse in second—sometimes third—place. This was obvious in "routine" things like forgetting her birthday (but remembering Happy Hour after work on Fridays). However, after seeing his mother pleasure herself while wishing her husband was doing the pleasuring, Peter deemed his parents' marriage was really in trouble. He couldn't be 100% sure but he didn't think either of them was cheating, though it seemed that eventually, because of being ignored on all fronts especially the sexual one, she would be the first to cheat.

The son quickly concluded that his father was a major dick for what he was doing to Valerie. He felt that way before that fateful afternoon. He felt even more so after it. Peter only had two girlfriends in his life: the current and previous one. The previous one had dumped him, after he spent his teens with a low self-image when it came to women. So he couldn't fathom his father. The man was married to a woman who looked so much like the

Striptease

actress, at the time of the film, and he preferred spending time and money on his barfly buddies?! Now that he saw his mother virtually naked and obviously sexually neglected, he was absolutely dumbfounded with his dad.

A little over a week after Peter spied on his mother's pornographic performance and he was mentally drifting off in business class, a decisive thought came to mind.