People Like Them
by
Tragudis
This is a follow-up to Past The Point Of No Return (July 26, 2023 -- Incest/Taboo)
Oh, that dirty but wonderful little secret. The one Steffi Lanier and her son Brad have going on between them. The taboo of taboos, the Freudian slip of Freudian slips, the Oedipus complex of Oedipus complexes, writ large in the house they share.
The cat is out of the bag, at least it is between this mom and son. The unspoken mutual sexual attraction they kept hidden for so long is out in the open, spoken about and acted upon, and nobody knows it but them. Not her ex-husband Clifford, not Brad's older sister Merle and not any of their friends. What would they say? What would they think? Steffi and Merle know all too well, and therefore they have no intention of revealing the salacious goings on behind the closed doors of their single-family home in this respectable, upper-middle-class neighborhood where things like this don't go on.
Except they do, at least in this house on this quiet street on the outskirts of a major East Coast city that shall go nameless, least that city gets a reputation for this kind of sexuality based on just one mom and one son. Brad is between relationships, "legitimate" relationships; that is, between him and a woman with whom he is not related. Gina was his last girlfriend, great in the sack, he admits, but there wasn't much communication out of it to sustain the relationship. He still wants a girl, "just like the girl that married dear old dad," as that old ditty goes. Except that now he's done one better--the actual girl who did. Does it get any better than that?
No, not if you have a mom that reciprocates the way Steffi has. She just loves his "boy-next-door charm" and his "athletic physique," among other attributes. In a perverted twist, Brad is the boy, just like the boy that came from his dear old mom. Not that she's old. No, she's a middle-aged gal that has a son who brings out her inner youthful self, the self that had lay hidden under a bad marriage that finally ended when Brad was in high school. What's going on between them is so wrong, so naughty, yet so exciting that neither party shows the slightest inclination to stop. Simple, basic housework turns into anything but simple or basic. Their affair started with Steffi vacuuming, and it's become one of their favorite times to get it on.
Like today, like this Saturday afternoon. Steffi is wearing a short, low-cut red negligee, with white trim around the edges, yellow panties and high heels. No woman does housework in that outfit, not unless she's trying to seduce someone in the room. And Brad is that someone. He's on the sofa in shorts and a T-shirt, gawking at his mom vacuuming the white living room carpet, loving the erotic way she bends and stoops and spreads her beautiful legs in the process. She's squatting down, with one hand on the vacuum, the other tickling her pussy over her panties.
"I'm fully erect just watching you, mom," he says, folding his hand over the thing, so hard that it bends in a slight banana-like curvature.
"And I'm soaking wet just watching you watching me," she says. Her fingers continue to tickle her tinkle, while she looks at him oh so ravenously and swishes her tongue over her lips in anticipation of the delights that are but minutes away.
"You're not getting much work done," Brad quips, grinning in that boyish way of his that Steffi finds so endearing.
"No, I'm not," she says, playing the game, the seductive skit that's developed between them, one among several skits that come with their own variations and that end in basically the same way. She feels herself getting wetter and wetter, as if that were possible, and the erotic tingling that extends from her gushing pussy to her hard nipples and beyond is amazing, just amazing.
She steps over to the sofa and sits down. After crossing her legs, she places her hand over the bulge in his shorts. "Oh, my, if we don't take care of this soon, it might explode." She leans in and plants a kiss on the side of his head. "Now, let's go upstairs where we can take care of each other in the manner by which we've come to define it."
As they've come to define it means a romp in the king-sized bed she once shared with her husband when they were on good terms, before things went south. Brad is so far the first and only man she's shared that bed with since her divorce. Truth be told, she's in no hurry to find another man with whom to share her bed, nor share another man's bed. She's too caught up in a whirl of erotic excitement that she never dreamed of until that Saturday morning weeks ago when the sexual tension that had been building between them reached the boiling point. The ardor, the white-heat that enveloped them then only got hotter.
Brad follows her up the stairs, gawking at his mom's sexy derriere and slim, perfect diamond-shaped calves. He's seen her from this angle more times than he can count, even before they got intimate, yet he never tires of it. When he playfully lifts the hem of her garment, she turns her head, giggling like a young girl.
After they strip off their clothing, her giggles turn to moans when Brad's tongue does what Steffi loves it to do. Brad never was a big fan of eating pussy. Not before he did Steffi, that is. Unlike the girls he'd been with, Steffi makes sure she smells good all over, including the area between her legs. His tongue drives her to near convulsions with the speedy way he stabs it over and around her clit and today is no exception. "Ohmygod, yes, yes! Oh, baby, keep going!" And he does, on his knees while she sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread, massaging her breasts, with her garment pulled up and her panties wrapped around her ankle. She could climax this way, but today she can't wait to take Brad inside her.
When she pulls away, Brad says, "Mom, I was going to make you come."
"I know, baby, but I'm too hungry for your amazing cock to wait."
She proves it by nearly pulling him up from the floor and then onto the bed. Then, with her feet planted firmly on the mattress, she goes into what she calls her "pogo stick ride," bouncing gleefully on said amazing cock, her hands massaging her breasts. And then, only moments later, her voice merges with his in a crescendo of erotic expression.
"Whew!" she cries, putting her hand against her forehead. "There's something to be said for speed sex."
Brad doesn't disagree. He's sitting up in the bed, watching Steffi wipe his jizz from her cunt and getting turned on all over again. "Can I help you, mom? I mean, it is my mess."
She flashes a broad smile. "Sure, if you'd like."
He grabs a tissue from the night table while Steffi leans against the headboard, legs spread. Flat on his stomach, he begins to wipe, acutely aware that his cock is pressing hard against the mattress. It takes less than a minute, about the same it takes his cock to once more get back on terms, so to speak.
Steffi gawks in slack-jawed wonder. "You're amazing!"
"No, it's you who is amazing," he says. "I don't believe I could do this with anyone else. I can get you wet again if need be."
She dips a finger into her pussy. "Well, yes, I suppose I could use a little more lube."
The compliant, sexually charged son goes at it, putting tongue to pussy, greasing her for another round. He really gets a kick out of doing this, hearing Steffi moan, watching her writhe under the stabbing motion of his tongue.
Minutes later, she's on her back, eager to once again receive him. Eager is as eager does, as this mom-son duo proves over the next ten minutes or so. No speed sex this time, though the pyrotechnic feeling they put into it is no less, well, pyrotechnic. It's all there, the grunts, groans and moans, the smacking sounds of loins on loins and the sweet smell of sex, a mix of sweat, body odor and commercial scents. The aroma fills the room.
Another crescendo, and then they lay next to each other, holding hands, sated and depleted. "Mom, can you imagine any of your friends doing this with their sons?" Brad asks.
She turns on her side to face him. Dragging a finger across his belly, she says, "I think you know the answer, Braddy. Not a one. Nor do I suspect that you can imagine any of your friends doing this. You know, I keep thinking about how Merle would react if she found out. Gawd, she'd have us both committed."
Brad chuckles. "She might not be as horrified as you think. She always was on the liberal side."
"Politically, maybe. But when it comes to sex, I imagine she's no less conventional than most people. And even if she has her kinky side, she'd find incest over the top. Let's just hope we never have to find out."
Brad didn't tell Steffi that he feels compelled to tell someone, that he's felt that need ever since it started. He can see why True Confessions Magazine was once so popular. People need to "confess" what they've done, no matter how kinky. In fact, the kinkier the behavior, the greater the need to tell someone about it. His sister Merel will understand, he thinks. They've always been close. Brad always looked up to his big sister. Being a few years younger, he sometimes turns to her for dating advice and other things. He doesn't want to betray Steffi, his only hesitation. Yet the compulsion to confide in someone eats at him every day. Merel is the only one he feels comfortable enough to tell. He doesn't believe that Merle will freak out the way Steffi thinks. She'll be shocked, all right, he admits. But then, when she calms down, she'll be okay discussing it. And what's more, he thinks she'll keep it between them.
*****
"Brad, it sounds really important for you to want to come over on a weeknight."
"It is, Merle, believe me it is."
"Okay, see ya in a bit."
Merle runs through all sorts of things in her head, trying to guess. With that sense of urgency in his voice, it sure does sound important. Did he get a girl pregnant? Possible. Maybe he borrowed money from a loan shark and was being threatened with bodily harm for failure to pay it back. Nah, that didn't sound like Brad at all. But maybe he had this secret life outside college. Whatever it is, she's on edge with anticipation. Better change into something "presentable." She had just showered and had slipped on her robe. Off goes her robe and on goes a pair of house shorts, a T-shirt and house slippers.
Merle, in her mid-twenties, has done well for herself. She's a college graduate who works in the human resources department for the state. The job has good benefits, and her salary is enough to own a modest, Cape Cod style house in the burbs. She's had quite a few boyfriends in her life. No surprise, young women who look like Merle usually do well with the opposite sex (and sometimes with the same sex, though that's not Merel's thing). She's got beautiful blue eyes, long dirty-blond hair, and one of those faces that look good from any angle and in any photograph. Maybe it's the small features, the way they fit her face in such a perfect way. A raving beauty she's not; cute as the proverbial button she is. Looks-wise, she inherited the best of her mom's DNA. In addition, she's slim and still in shape, even though she's a few years removed from her college lacrosse playing days. Regular workouts at LA Fitness keep her that way. The woman is disciplined.
Merle almost runs to the door at the sound of the bell. "Hey bro," she says when he steps in the door wearing jeans, sweatshirt and sneakers. "How about something to drink?'
"You know it," he says. "Beer or wine, I'll take either one. Maybe both."
Merle chuckles. "Wow, whatever this is, it sounds awfully serious. Beer, I don't have, so wine will have to do."
He nods, then paces the carpeted floor while waiting.
"A Reisling for you and one for me," she says. "Let's sit and you can tell big sis all about it."
Once seated on the sofa, Brad, with his hand shaking, takes several sips. Merle watches, amused and alarmed at the same time. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous," he says.
"Yeah, I can see that. Take your time."
After one more sip, he says, "I'm not sure where to start."
"Most stories start at the beginning, but you can start any place you'd like." Merle takes her first sip, waiting and feeling her heart beat the way it does while watching a good suspense movie.
Brad takes a deep breath and turns to his right to face her. "Well, it involves mom and me. By the way, she doesn't know I'm talking to you about this. Can you keep it just between you and me?"
Merle looks serious. "Sure, I guess so. But I can't say for sure until I know what the hell you're talking about."
He nods. "Right, I guess that make sense. But after you hear it, you'll probably want to keep it just between us."
She exhales, then says, "Geeze, Braddy, get to the point already. I feel ready to explode with anticipation."
"Okay, so here goes. Ready?"
"Oh, Jesus, I've been ready." She rolls her eyes.
"Okay, so for the past month or so, mom and I have, well, um, we've gotten closer than a mom and son are supposed to."
"Closer? Closer how?"
"Closer to the point where it's inappropriate. Can you guess?"
Merle is running through her mind something that sounds worse than getting a girl pregnant or running from a loan shark. "I'd rather not guess. You're here to tell me."
