"
Our Secret
" generated controversy, compliments and confessions from mothers who had one time sex with their sons. The confessions were usually sent to my email. But the requests were the same: more stories where the mom/son relationship spins out of control and results in sex! One time only!
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The family reunion was better than most. As usual it was held on the old family farm the family had inherited after the death of my grandparents. Uncle Harry had taken it upon himself to add some improvements. The old cinder block farmhouse was basically untouched. But uncle had turned the old barn at the far end of property into a communal shower. He had kept the tree shrouded lawn area intact. The family tents were pitched in the clearings formed by the various clumps of trees. It added an element of privacy. My tent was pitched adjacent to an old willow; mom and dad tent was just the other side of that same willow.
Uncle Harry was making a nuisance of himself telling stories he had told countless times before. His wife, Aunt Ethel, while shushing him was making spectacle of herself in a swimsuit that was at least a size too small. Her enormous jugs pushed obscenely out of both sides and the top. And that was just my father's side of the family!
At 47 my mom is a full figured bosomy woman. In her stocking feet she stands about 5' 9", maybe 170 lbs. Years ago I had peeked in her lingerie drawer and saw her bra size. She was a 36C then. As I watched her across the fire I could see she was a good deal larger now. I'd say she was 38 C to D.
My mother's side was boozers. Despite the implied and express disapproval of their spouses, her brother and sister were doing their best to empty the accumulated liquor for the group. Trooper that she was, mom was doing her best to keep up with her older siblings.
The title of their conversation could be: Incoherency!
It was punctuated by interrupted sentences, slurred incomprehensible jokes followed by loud guffaws.
Mom had reached the point where standing was not an option. She sat wide legged, her feet splayed in front of her. From my vantage point I could see that her cotton Bermuda shorts had pulled tightly against her pussy. In the shifting play of light and shadow caused by the blazing open fire, I thought I could see the outline of her sex. Her sweat stained tee shirt clung wetly to her emphasizing her large breasts.
I mentally shook myself. A small smile found its way to my lips. I was perving my mom! Like most teenage boys, she had been the object of my early sexual fantasies. As I grew older and hopefully, wiser, she took her place in my mind as the mother figure that all other women must measure up to!
Dad and I shared private jokes about mom, the casual drinker, trying to keep pace with her veteran drinker siblings. We had a little bet on whether one of us would have to walk her to their tent or could she make it alone. Privately I wondered if I would have to walk them both to their tent.
Now I must confess I was doing my share of drinking! But like most drunks, I pointed out how much the others had drank while minimizing my intake! But we were all drunk!
It was a good night. The hot day had cooled to a comfortable night. The arc of the Milky Way filled the sky on this moonless night.
I sat next to my dad, Tom. The heat of the bonfire served only to intensify the effects of the alcohol. I watched as his head dropped to his chin, only to snap back as he fought sleep and alcohol.
Dad is a paunchy 50 years old. At 6' 3" and a good 250 he is still an imposing figure. Since I had been back home I had figured out that he and mom weren't having sex much if at all. I mean my room is just down the hall and the silence at night was deafening! When I was still a teenager, they had provided lots of masturbation material with their loud lovemaking. Mom was a screamer and when dad used to hit that good spot, her screams echoed through the house! That was usually followed by shushing and giggles.
Across the blazing embers of our fire, my cousin Anne caught my eye. She slowly and suggestively ran her tongue over her full pink lips, ending in a puckered moue. My cock stiffened at the promise of that lewd gesture. I puckered and blew her a kiss. Nervously I glanced around the fire. No one, especially her husband, Sam, seems to have noticed us.
In some ways she was a carbon copy of my mom. But then all of the women on that side of the family were voluptuous. Anne used to tease me that she wasn't big but statuesque!
We were both 22 and had been fucking each other since we were in our early teens. It had started with normal inquisitiveness and quickly graduated to some of the best sex we had ever had. We had shared our firsts: The first oral, our first 69, our first anal and, ultimately our first child.
Our 4 year old daughter sat between Anne's husband's legs, her head against his thigh, sleeping peacefully. A pang of jealousy shot through me as I watched them. The fact that another man was raising my daughter hurt deeply. The added fact that he slept with my woman every night caused my jaw to tighten and my fists to clench.
I forced myself to relax. I knew the decision to convince her then platonic boyfriend to fuck her and then tell him he had got her pregnant was the right one. The scandal of disclosing that our incestuous relationship had produced our angel, Susan, would have ripped the family apart. And the social stigma would have followed our baby for the rest of her life. Yes, we had made the right decision, but still it hurt.
Before Susan was born, I left for college. The school was 8 hours away so my visits home were for Christmas and summer break. I found out about my daughter's birth in one of my infrequent calls with my mom. It hurt that I couldn't be there.
In the intervening four years, Anne and I had stolen moments. During the summers there were more cheap motels than I can remember. When I was home for the holidays, there were passionate stolen trysts in the back seat of cars.
Once, during the holidays, we had risked all for a quickie in the basement storeroom of my parents' house. We could hear the entire family celebrating 3 feet above our sweating bodies. Anne had leaned over an old dusty trunk while I plowed the depths of her married pussy. If they had been listening instead of partying, they would have heard the animalistic snorts, groans and moans of our illicit sexual act. If they had taken a few steps down the hall and even fewer down to the basement, they would have seen me invade that luscious tight ass. They would have heard the screams of our orgasms as we came together and I planted my seed deep in her anus.
Another time I had stopped by their bungalow for a visit. Her husband offered me a beer and apologized for not spending more time with me. They were having friends over later and he needed to mow the grass. Anne and I exchanged pleasantries as we sat in her living room. We talked about school, married life and Susan.
I held up my empty beer questioningly. Anne smiled broadly. She stood and walked into the kitchen. She turned to face me and lifted her house dress to her chin. She was naked under the dress. She turned slowly modeling her naked body for my eyes. Her breasts were larger because of child birth. She had stopped shaving because her husband preferred a full trimmed bush.
She turned slowly so that her ass was towards me. She bounced and made her ass jiggle. She looked over shoulder and grinned devilishly. She let her dress drop and reached in the fridge and got me another beer.
Later Anne took me upstairs to see our baby. She was sleeping peacefully in her crib. The burr of the lawnmower could be heard just below the window. I leaned over and kissed her lightly on her precious forehead.
Anne and I embraced and watched our baby sleeping peacefully. We began kissing. Anne's tongue invaded my mouth. Our tongues dueled as our passion grew. I raised Anne's dress and squeezed her ample ass as we kissed. Both of our breaths were quickening. When I ran my hand between Anne's legs, it was drenched by her wetness. As her husband mowed the grass just below the window, we made out like teenagers.
