Pushing My Luc

Summer vacation was winding down fast, taking with it the last vestiges of freedom that my sisters and I had been so thoroughly enjoying. All too soon, I would be starting my senior year in high school and it would be back to dull grind of boring routine.

"Samuel T. Young, you need a haircut, young man!"

Sick and tired of the shaggy look I was sporting, my mother took me by the arm that Sunday and propelled me into the kitchen. A dining room chair had already been prepositioned on the linoleum tile there, I discovered. On the corner of a conveniently nearby counter, meanwhile, were the rest of her supplies - a pair of scissors, a comb, a squirt bottle loaded with water, and an old blanket.

She propelled me into the chair and quickly had me wrapped up in the blanket, securing it with a clothes pin.

This was standard operating procedure around our place.

Armed with a couple of high school cosmetology courses, my mom had never seen any reason to spend this family's hard earned cash on a trip to the barbershop when she could take care of it herself for free. Opinion's varied wildly among us kids as to just how skilled she really was at this, of course, but she was adamant.

I could clearly remember some of the times I had sat in this chair under this self same blanket back when I was a boy. What a trial that must have been for her - dealing with a squirming, wriggling child who wanted to be anywhere but right there, pestering her endlessly about how much longer this was going to take.

And that was just me! I won't even try to get into the crying fits my sisters had when she refused to do their hair in some new style, convincing them that she was deliberately trying to ruin their lives.

My feelings about all of this would change forever after I hit puberty, though.

Suddenly, the way her body innocently bumped and rubbed up against my own as she worked made it nigh impossible for a young man awash in raging hormones to sit still in that chair. It made me look at her quite differently than I ever had before and there could be no doubting that I liked what I saw. When she came around in front of me, bending down so that she could make sure that she'd gotten the sides even and inadvertently giving me the chance to look down the neck of her blouse, I felt as if I were about to burst into flame. I didn't actually see much flesh, mind you, but it was enough.

Thank God for that blanket or she would certainly have discovered the erection she invariably left me with.

Obviously nothing ever happened between us. I mean, I may have been young and stupid, but I wasn't so foolish as to try to put the moves on my own mother! It wasn't as if I'd ever had much luck with the ladies anyway . . .

It was just fortunate that she had never figured out what kind of perverse ideas were racing through her only son's mind or I would surely have died of embarrassment.

So, humming softly to herself, mom busied herself with cutting my hair, bustling around my chair and rubbing up against me as usual. No matter how I tried to fight it, no matter how weird it was to get all hot and bothered over my own mother, I was soon shivering with excitement from what was happening.

I was eighteen years old now and it may be that this effect had been accumulating energy in me over all that time as it was even worse this time than it usually was and for once she couldn't help but notice that something was amiss. Seeing how I was trembling, hearing an occasional low whimper escape my lips, she gave me a quizzical look and asked me if I was all right. I assured her in a hoarse, cracking voice that I was just fine, thank you very much.

Considering me carefully, she guessed wrong about what my problem was, saying, "Don't worry, dear. I'm not going to cut either of your ears off."

"Thanks."

I was very glad indeed that she had not succeeded in figuring me out, breathing a little sigh of relief.

As I got worse and worse, I also thanked God that the rest of the family wasn't there to watch me make a fool of myself. All three of them were home of course, just not in a position to see into the kitchen.

I could hear the strains of Spongebob's theme song coming from the living room, which meant that my little sister Darla would be in there, paying rapt attention to the TV. The last time I saw my dad, he was in there as well, reading his newspaper, so I assumed that was where he was still. I hadn't seen my older sister Lesley in quite a while and presumed that she was upstairs fussing over her appearance since she had a date tonight.

Coming around in front of me and leaning down, mom rested a hand lightly on my knee as she looked me over. That casual, innocent touch was almost enough to make my already rock hard cock rip it's way through my jeans given the state I was in, but it got worse - much, much worse.

As usual, I could not keep my eyes from dipping whenever she did this, but just this once I saw something more than just the shape of her breasts through her blouse. She had left the top button undone and so I could see right down inside her top and, with no bra in evidence in there, I was given the full effect. I don't mind admitting that my mouth fell open in shock and awe as I took a good, long look at my own mother's full boobs.

I was never so disappointed as when she straightened up again and went back to work, stealing that view away from me.

Coming up beside me, moving in close so that she could work on some particular area of my head, I recall that her crotch then ended up pressed into my arm. I recoiled from that touch not because I didn't want to have any contact with that part of her, but because of how much I did. Unfortunately, this took that part of my head that she was working on out of reach and so she pulled me back into place, admonishing me to sit still.

Clenching my teeth, I obeyed.

Was it just my imagination, or could I really feel a tingling warmth radiating through her skirt from that most intimate of places? Was it just wishful thinking that was making my nose twitch, or could I really smell the sweet scent of arousal?

I closed my eyes tightly, wondering how she might react if I were to suddenly slip my arm out from under that blanket, wrap it around her, and grab hold of her butt. I heard a loud gasp from right beside me, followed by the sound of scissors and comb clattering to the tile floor, and almost chuckled out loud. Yeah, I supposed that was the absolute least she would do if I was so stupid to . . .

Wait a minute. What was going on here? Why had she gasped and dropped her tools?

Opening my eyes, I got the shock of my life when I realized that my arm had moved without any conscious direction from me and that I really did now have my hand squarely on her ass.

Probably the normal reaction anyone else would have if they found themselves in this kind of situation would be to jerk their hand away as if it were instead resting on white hot coals, at the same time offering up a feeble and humiliated apology. Certainly, I tensed up in anticipation of the smack upside my head that was surely coming.

Somehow though, I never thought of taking my straying hand back and no blow ever came. To my amazement, she did not complain and she or make even a pretense of trying to pull away from me.

Uncertain, with my heart in my throat, I ever so slowly tilted my head back so that I could see how she was reacting to all of this. There was an expression of stunned amazement on her face at first, but as our eyes met and held each other, I watched as it was gradually replaced by a nervous smile.

One of her hands came up slowly and I was certain that she was finally going to push herself away from me, but instead she drew me in, pressing my head firmly into her breasts.

To say the least, it was a serious shock to my system to realize that she didn't really have a problem with this, but I wasn't about to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.

It was a heavenly moment for a young man who had never managed to get anywhere near a pair of tits before to find himself snuggling into warm, soft pillows like these and I thrilled when I felt what could only be a set of hardened nipples. I had never imagined that it could be so blissfully perfect.

In response, I moved that hand I had behind her, though it was again more because of instinct than out of any kind of deliberate decision. Cupping a cheek, I gave it a little squeeze and was rewarded with a little coo of pleasure from my mother.

It was an intense moment for us both - we were crossing a very serious line here and we both knew it. It was obvious that it was effecting us both as we were breathing much harder now. I was confident that we were mirrored in other ways as well as my heart was pounding away in my chest and, with my ear against her chest like this, I knew that her's was as well. As I was still looking up into her eyes, I could see that her face had flushed a rosy red and I expected that mine must have, too.

I could certainly understand why I was so willing and eager to play this dangerous game, but I was having rather more trouble understanding why she was ready to do these crazy things with her own son. I wasn't thinking clearly enough at that point to want to try to figure it out.

Maybe, just like me, cutting my hair had been getting her all worked up all this time and I simply hadn't noticed?

She leaned forward slightly so that she could pull the sheet away from my lap, sending my shorn hair flying everywhere in the process, and I decided to keep my focus on the here and now. Her eyes left mine for a moment, looking down at my lap to find the huge erection I had once been trying to hide from her, then rose again to show me a wide and delighted smile.

"My big boy."

I was no different than any other guy my age in being absolutely certain that I was hung like a horse and so I wondered idly if she was so pleased because she knew that she had given me that erection, or if it was because of it's sheer size.

With things going so well right now, I did what any teenaged guy worth his salt would do - I pushed my luck a little.

I flatter myself that I heard a disappointed whine when my wandering hand gave up it's perch on her butt. That hand slid slowly down her leg, then up and under her skirt, so the next thing I heard was a little cry that spoke of both alarm and excitement.

As my hand moved steadily up the back of her thighs, lifting her skirt higher and higher as it went, she shifted her stance so that her legs were a little more open to give me room to do whatever it was I was going to do, breathing so hard now that I began to fear that she was going to hyperventilate. The two of us let out mirror moans when my hand finally did reach it's destination and there was nothing more between me and her full moon than a thin pair of panties.

I was pulled out of her cleavage then and, before I knew what was happening, she had covered my mouth with her own in a long and passionate kiss. It would not go down in history as my first since I had already shared a few with the girls my own age, but it was by far the best.

I couldn't have been happier with how things were progressing in that kitchen and felt the need to push my luck again. No longer content to allow a pair of panties to stand between me and my prize, I tugged them down hurriedly and a bit clumsily, maneuvering them just enough so that I could claim her bare butt.

Her response to this was more kisses that were much more aggressive, shoving her tongue right down my throat. I did my very best to give her back everything I was getting of course, but only just managed to hold my own against the onslaught.

At the same time, I found the time to marvel over the silky smooth texture of her skin and I did a very thorough job of exploring every inch of my mom's ass.

When the tip of my middle finger was finally introduced to the puckered opening to her back door, she involuntarily broke off our kiss and rose up on her toes, letting out a long and breathless gasp. Licking her lips, she gave me an uncertain look, but did nothing to keep my finger from sinking deeper and deeper into her.

It was at about this time that I suddenly remembered that I had two hands and that one of them wasn't doing much of anything at the moment.

I brought it up, aiming to grab hold of one of her breasts and saw her eyes dart to follow that oncoming hand, biting her bottom lip. Otherwise, she didn't seem to react to it at all until it was almost at it's destination, just a few centimeters away from making a successful landing. Rather unfortunately for me, that was when everything suddenly changed.

To my great confusion and disappointment, she suddenly jerked back, stumbling a few steps back from me. One of my hands became dislodged from her bottom, while the other one missed her tit and caught nothing but air. Further, I had been leaning into her and so her sudden retreat almost sent me tumbling sideways out of my chair, but I recovered quickly if not gracefully.

What had happened? Things had been going so wonderfully between us, in my opinion, but now she wanted to stop?! The most difficult thing I've ever had to do was slam on the brakes that day, bringing my racing engine to a complete and very abrupt stop.

Mom seemed to need some support and spent a little time leaning heavily against the edge of the counter, breathing heavily and looking everywhere but at me. I waited, giving her some time, hoping against hope that she wasn't really bringing our torrid adventure to an end. Maybe she merely wanted to take some of her clothes off, or perhaps some of mine?

But no, it was not to be. As soon as she had regained a little of her composure, she hurried to pull her panties up and make sure that her skirt was back where it should be.

She bent down to recover her dropped scissors and comb, I could not resist the opportunity to try to restart the stunning, exciting event we had just been taking part in. I reached out for her again, but as soon as she felt my fingertips brush her, she leapt like she'd just gotten an electric jolt and was quick to back well out of reach.

"Please, Sammy," she desperately pleaded, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. "Just keep your hands to yourself and let me finish this."

Well, whatever else I might be, I am not a rapist and so I naturally accepted her wishes, no matter how hurt and confused I may have been. I just sat still and kept my eyes on the ground in front of me as she went back to work, my hard on dying a quick death. Mom hurried to get done, in the meantime, finishing in record time and giving probably the worst haircut in all her career as the family hair stylist.

But what had happened? Had I gone too far, too fast? Had I been too clumsy and inexperienced?

I couldn't help but notice that she spent the rest of the day avoiding me, making a very deliberate effort not to get caught anywhere all alone with me.

Disappointed and discouraged, I finally turned away from her and trudged off to my bedroom.

Fooling around with a relative was a pretty big deal, I reflected glumly. Most everyone in the world seems to think that incest is gross and perverse. I guessed that she must have gotten a little carried away in the kitchen, just like I had, but that the reality of what we were doing had sunk in slowly. I supposed she had simply been unable to cope with the idea of cheating on her husband with her own son.

I couldn't hold that against her. Not really.

Nonetheless, I spent the rest of the day in my room behind a closed door, fantasizing about what it might have been like to have an affair with my mother, wearing myself out by jerking off over and over.

* * *

It was not long after the dawn of the next day when the first rays of sunlight came filtering through the curtains and falling right on my face, rousing me from a fitful sleep and rescuing me from some very odd dreams.

I was still only partially awake when I heard those old hinges on my bedroom door creak open and closed again. Yawning drowsily and blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I rolled over onto my back and propped myself up on an elbow, wondering what was going on. To my great surprise, I found none other than my mother standing just inside the room in her housecoat, a nervous smile on her face.

"Mom . . ."

She would say nothing, nor would she wait to see if I could put together a coherent sentence. As I watched, my eyes growing wider and wider and my jaw falling open, she instead unfastened her robe and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it slide off to land in a heap on the floor behind her. I was presented now with a vision straight out of a wet dream as my mother stood before me in nothing but her wedding ring and her birthday suit.

I just could not stop staring at her, meticulously committing every detail to memory.

My face was an open book to her in that moment and it was clear that she could see for herself how much I was enjoying the sight of her without her clothes. I saw her eyes flickering along my reclining body though in search of more concrete proof of my approval, but in vain thanks to the way the blankets were arranged atop me.

Had she asked, I would have been happy to tell her that she had instantly banished all traces of my drowsiness and had me standing at attention already.

She drifted across the room towards me, her eyes finding mine again.

Neither of us said anything, but then there was nothing that needed to be said. When she arrived at my bedside, I was only too eager to throw back the sheets in blatant invitation. I always sleep in just my boxers and so this time, when her eyes dipped, she was rewarded with the sight of my drawers straining to contain me.

I reached out with one hand to pull my hard cock out, but she stopped me with a wordless smile, preferring to do it herself. Taking hold of each side of my underwear, she turned them inside out as she slowly hauled them down and I sent off a quick thank you to whatever deity might be listening that there were no pee stains or skid marks. The boxers were dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

The sound of a real live woman squealing with pleasure as my manhood was unleashed, quivering in it's eagerness to be put to the use it was made for, certainly was a nice boost to the ol' ego.

Mom reached out to run two fingertips slowly along the underside of my shaft all the way from the bulbous helmet back down to the balls, making my rock hard penis jerk and jump, impatient to be introduced to it's first pussy. When I also let out a throaty groan, she shot me a concerned look, though.

"Quietly, my darling," she instructed in a whisper. "We don't want Lesley to catch us like this."

I answered with a nod. My big sister occupied the room next to mine and, knowing her habits as I did, it didn't take a genius to realize that she was probably still in there sleeping. It was rare for her to get home from a date so much as one minute before her curfew, so sometimes she didn't get up before noon after she'd been out.

Mom carefully climbed up onto my bed then, straddling me. She reached down between us with one hand, taking hold of my cock and steering it and herself until our most intimate parts were in perfect alignment.

I cannot deny that I was struggling.

Seeing this beautiful and completely naked woman in my bed, being held so firmly and so intimately, knowing that I was just about to lose my virginity to my own mother, all conspired to sap my reserves of strength. It took every ounce of will power this young and very inexperienced teenager could muster to keep from spoiling everything by coming too soon.

With the head of my cock at the entrance to her cunt, she hesitated a moment, searching my eyes. I guess she was making absolutely sure that I wasn't having any last minute reservations about committing incest with her, but whatever she saw only made her smile.