The Mistae

Author's note: This is the third installment of this tale. Thank you to everyone who has gotten this far and especially to those of you who have left feedback. It's very appreciated. Equally big thanks to all of you who sent private messages, some more colorful than others. If you want a reply then don't forget to fill out your e-mail.

Big thanks to CharlieB4 for helping me edit.

The Mistake - Part Three

28 Days Later

Samuel

"Mmmmm Sam... that feels nice."

Yes, yes it did feel nice. I was glad she thought so too.

She was on the bed on all fours, resting her head against a pillow. I was standing behind her on the floor, running the tip of my dick up and down her slit. The sensation of just doing that was great and I felt no rush in proceeding to the next step.

Her purple silk nightgown was pushed up to her waist and I amused myself by straightening it out, pulling it back over her ass to almost cover her sex. Neat and proper, sexy as fuck.

I pushed forward a fraction. Just enough to part her lips and barely enter her.

"Is this what you want

Ava?"

I put extra emphasis on her name. For some reason it turned her on when I did that. It still felt weird but I was getting used to it.

Just like clockwork she let out a moan and pushed herself back against me, my dick slipping yet another fraction deeper. I resisted the urge to slam into her, contenting myself with groping her magnificent behind. It might just be my favorite feature of hers. Right up there with her boobs, and really, up there with the rest of her too.

I was getting better at not calling her mom. Sometimes though, in the heat of the moment, I would slip and blurt it out. It still irked her when it happened but she no longer turned into a dragon that was about to rip my head off. Any time we weren't

engaged

she still wanted to be called mom though. I was more than happy to do it.

She

was

, after all, my mom... but right now she was also my lover.

Funny how that had happened. Or maybe I shouldn't say funny. Fortuitous, I suppose, is a word that fit the bill. Well, from my point of view, that is.

It hadn't always felt like it. Like for example the very next day after our little... mistake.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Evening After Coming Home

*Squeak*

*Squeak* *Squeak*

A very specific spot on the floor creaked every time I stepped on it. I had been doing it for so long, pacing back and forth, that I almost didn't register it anymore. I was nervous and a little anxious. Despite my efforts to engage in conversation she hadn't spoken a single word to me for the entire day. What did it mean?

Was she angry? Sad? Regretful? Embarrassed? The alcohol would have worn off so maybe she was just tired, maybe even hungover? No, that didn't seem like it. She hadn't looked tired or hungover, or even angry for that matter. Just... I dunno... wary?

She looked good though, so damn good. Even as I paced I wanted to rush out and find her, hug her and feel her close to me. It scared me, thinking that I might not ever get to feel that again. The safety of her embrace, the embrace of my mother. It was killing me knowing that I might have caused a rift between us, so big it might not be fixable.

So what was I to do? Should I let it be? Let her decide the aftermath of our encounter?

There wasn't much else to-

I stopped and turned to my bedroom door as it swung open. She hadn't knocked, hadn't made a sound other than the air flow of the door moving. Damn she looked good. Even in the long armed sweater and bulky sweatpants.

"Sam," she said, hugging her arms around herself. There was emotions in her eyes. Conviction and... sadness. My heart plummeted. "We... we need to talk."

Yes. Yes we did.

I motioned for the bed, offering her a place to sit. She didn't move, staring at it for a long moment. Then she shook her head and went for the desk chair. The signal couldn't have been clearer. I sat on the bed instead. The atmosphere was tense as she remained silent, drawing out the moment by looking around my room. I knew it was an effort to stall.

"Mom..." I said, unable to take the prolonged silence.

She closed her eyes and nodded, drawing in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking at me but not into my eyes. Her focus was lower, on a point somewhere on my throat. That action alone hurt. Real bad. "For what I did."

"There's-" I tried but she cut me off, her conviction flaring.

"I should have known better, should have put a stop to it," she continued, her voice hard. "It shouldn't even have been on the table what we did."

I shook my head just a fraction back and forth, staring right into those eyes she couldn't look at me with.

"I'm not sorry." I had said it quick, hurried so she wouldn't be able to cut me off.

"That's-" Her anger flared but she bit her retort short. Then she looked away, staring at the desk, hugging her arms around herself tighter. "You should be... A mother and a son... it's not right. Your father-" Now it was my turn to cut her off.

"He doesn't satisfy you," I said. "He doesn't give you what you need. Doesn't give you the best."

The muscles in her jaw tensed but she didn't lash out, even though I saw that she wanted to.

"Don't talk about your father like that," she said, still not looking at me.

"Why not? It's true. You said so yourself," I said, pressing the advantage. "That you hadn't been so thoroughly fuc-"

"Sam!" she cut in, a little louder. "I know what I did and said. We have already established that it was wrong, that I was wrong."

"No," I retorted, equally loud. She jumped at it, her eyes briefly flashing to mine. I tried to catch them, to hold them there, but she averted them almost immediately. "

You

have established that. I haven't. I still say that we did nothing wrong. You wanted it, I wanted it,

we

wanted it."

"That still doesn't make it right!" she said, heat entering her voice. She was a passionate woman, after all.

"So you admit it?" I asked, again pushing forward. "That you enjoyed it?"

"Dammit Sam! That's not the point!" She was really getting into it. I hoped it would provoke her enough to actually look at me but so far no luck.

I stood up and took a step in her direction.

"Don't!" she let out, holding up a hand like a barrier. "Just... don't."

I didn't stop, instead taking another step in her direction. That did it. She turned her eyes on me, flaming as they now were, and stood up herself.

"No Sam," she said with such finality that I actually stopped.

We stared at each other for a long moment, almost a minute, neither of us backing down. This was a game she wouldn't win, that she couldn't win. I had far more experience than her in waiting out my opponent. I handled

all

negotiations in dad's and my company.

And I did win... sort of, just not the results I wanted.

"I," she said, breaking the silence first, just as I knew she would. "

I

did not come here to have a discussion.

I

came here to tell you that it was a mistake, something that happened that shouldn't have happened."

I opened my mouth to interject but she pushed on.

"

I

also came here to tell you that it's never going to happen again. It was a moment of weakness,

for both of us.

We are stronger than that or at the very least I am." She turned on the spot and headed for the door, her words seemingly final.

I wasn't having it.

"I'll tell dad," I said.

She came to a sudden halt. A long moment passed.

"No you won't," she said before resuming her walk. The sound of the door clicking shut was deafening.

No. No I wouldn't. With monotone movements, robotic almost, I walked over to the nearest wall and punched it. Ouch.

Fucking fuckity fuck fuck.

-o-o-o-o-

I kept a close eye on her the next day. On the surface she appeared normal, smiling and going about things like nothing had happened. She even spoke to me. Not much but a little. Only about mundane things though, like 'good morning honey', 'would you like some coffee?', 'pass the milk will ya', and so on.

It was easy to see that it was just an act though, a desperate attempt to ignore and dig her head in the sand. To go back to normal. It worked to some extent, but it also didn't. Whenever she noticed me looking at her she would give me a scowl, small but definitely there, before shaking her head.

It hurt, it really did, the tension between us.

At least Claire wasn't home to witness the drama. Saved me that headache.

Dad, of course, was as oblivious as a drunken fish. Not even when we were blatantly shooting daggers at each other from across the dinner table did he notice anything. Then again, perception had never been one of his strong sides. I was pretty sure that sooner or later though he would notice something.

Mom wasn't helping things in that regard either, tending to his every need like she was trying to apologize for something. It was... pathetic to watch, and a little heartbreaking. She was obviously doing it to send me a message too. Which it did, loud and clear.

'This is my husband, this is the man I belong to, not you.'

At one point dad spoke up while we ate.

"Hey Sam, I've been thinking. Isn't it time you got your own place?" he asked, looking at me from the opposite side of the table.

My eyes flashed to her as she walked behind him carrying dessert. Raspberry cheese cake, his favorite. She met my gaze head on, no blinking, no nothing. Had she talked to him? No, his question was genuine and not unusual. We had talked about it before.

"Yeah maybe," I said, staring straight at her. "It might be for the best."

"Of course we're not throwing you out or anything," he continued, not paying attention to where my eyes were. "But I would imagine you'd want the privacy, sooner or later."

Mom set the cake down with a thud, mirroring my stare, "I think that's a great idea."

Loud and clear.

It became so bad that I eventually had to leave the house, hopping on my bike to go anywhere. I just needed to get as far away as I could. I might have broken the speed limit a few times, once or twice on purpose. I loved that feeling, exhilarating and invigorating, of putting distance behind me, faster and faster.

I didn't make my way back to the house until late evening. By then I hoped they would have gone to bed, leaving the house silent. I loved the silence. Peaceful and perfect.

They hadn't, it turned out, but they were about to.

At the same time as I reached the top of the stairs, my helmet under my arm, she came out of the bathroom. We both stopped in our tracks, staring at each other, not speaking. She was wearing nothing but a nightgown. Purple, silky. I hadn't seen it before. It had to be new. Or relatively. Her hair was set up too, looking sexy as fuck, just like the rest of her.

There was no question about what her intentions were.

She began moving before I did, taking long slow strides that sent the nighty fluttering up her long legs with every step. I kept my eyes on her the entire way and she didn't look away before she reached the door to their bedroom.

'This is my man, this is the one I'm going to fuck, not you.'

I stood there for a long time, just staring at the closed door, listening to my own deep breaths. It was hard, resisting the urge to turn around and hop on my bike again. Even harder to stifle the urge to barge in there and begin yelling.

But there was nothing I could do but head into my room.

Dad was right. Maybe it was time to get my own place. There was too much... heartbreak, going on. She had obviously made up her mind. The best I could hope for was to not be excluded from her life entirely.

It hurt. A lot.

So I settled in for a second restless night. All I could think about was her doing things to

him.

Things that he didn't deserve, didn't have a right to.

But who the hell was I to decide that?

Yeah, I definitely needed to get my own place. I had already begun resenting dad and I needed to distance myself before it got worse. It wasn't his fault. Not really anyway. Maybe a little I guess. I still had the company to think about. There was more than just my life on the line. The fifty two employees we had would certainly be affected if dad and I had a falling out.

Fifteen minutes, that was how long I could stand it. I had to get away again. I couldn't stay in the house. It was too hard. A motel, yes, that would have to be the solution. It would be hard to explain but I had no other choice.

I had just made up my mind about packing a bag when my bedroom door swung open. I didn't expect it, didn't expect to see her standing there. But she was. Still as sexy, still my mother.

"... mom?"

I couldn't make out her eyes in the darkness but I could see when she shook her head.

"No. Don't speak. No words. No I told you so's and no... just... shut up." I blinked, stunned, both by her words and the fact that she was even there.

My eyes tracked her dark outline as she walked through my room. I didn't know what her intentions were or where she was going.

To my desk, it turned out, to lean over it and then... nothing.

... what? Was she...? Did she want...?

It sure looked like it.

I opened my mouth to ask. "Mo-"

"No words," she snapped, some of her trademark fury slipping into her voice. "Don't speak. Just do."

Was this... an opportunity?

Well, I already knew what the answer to that question was.

I crossed the room in a second, coming to a stop right behind her. The purple nightgown looked almost black in the darkness. She didn't move, didn't react, didn't turn her head to look at me.

I knew what she wanted, what she was asking me to do. I didn't even hesitate. Not for a single second.

She was slick when I pushed into her, causing her to let out a strangled sigh. So warm, so wet. Much wetter than the last time. I could hazard a guess as to why but I didn't care.

"Three minutes..." she moaned when I struck up a pace. "Three minutes... ugh... that has to be... ugh... some kind of... ugh... record..."

I knew what she was referring to, confirmed why she was so wet. I didn't care, didn't even hesitate or slow down. Dad had fucked up one too many times.

And I couldn't have loved him more for it.

-o-o-o-o-o-

I was brought back out of my thoughts by a whining moan.

"Sam... quit teasing me," she whined, giving me a pout over her shoulder.

She looked so damn sexy like that, ass in the air and head down. I realized I had been sliding along her slit for a long time, long enough that the head of my dick felt really sensitive.

After that night she had tried one more time to pretend like nothing had happened, that what I was giving her wasn't exactly what she needed. I let her be though, knowing full well that she would be back. And she was. The very next night even, after yet another failure from my father.

Since then things had been Great, with a capitol G. The scene in front of me had been an almost daily occurrence, sometimes even more frequent than that. Her under-stimulated libido now craved a lot of attention and I was happy to give it, keeping up with her every need.

"Baby... come onnn," she whined, jiggling her ass up and down. That still felt weird, her calling me baby. It was a relatively new thing though and I could get used to it.

"So needy. So demanding," I said with a grin. "Tell me this is what you want."

As I said it I edged forward a tiny bit, parting her lips but not entering her.

"Yes dammit! It's what I need," she snapped, obvious frustration in her voice. "And either you give it to me

now

or I'm going to tie you down and take it."

"Heh," I chuckled. "You're so sexy when you beg."

I pushed forward, slowly. Her lips widened even further to admit me into her folds, stretching around my rod as I penetrated her.

"Uhhh yeees," she moaned, pushing back against me to make it go faster. It felt incredible, just like last time, just like always. It was like our sexes were made for one another, a perfect mold, a perfect fit. I could feel the bottom of her insides at the exact moment as I felt my balls rest against skin.

"Fuck Ava..." I said, holding still there for a moment, just enjoying it. "You feel so fucking good."

"Mmmm," she pulled forward on her own. "This is nice... exactly what I need..."

It was still so surreal, that I was fucking my mother like this. Or rather, that she was fucking me, moving back and forth on my dick as I stood still, letting her take whatever pleasure she wanted from me.

I knew she still had issues with it but it showed less and less as time went on. The short of it was that she was hooked. Dad hadn't given her the satisfaction she needed and after The Mistake she had realized that there was someone who could. To her credit she still tried to fight it — her urges, but each consecutive battle and defeat just made the next one shorter.

If it hadn't happened, if this incestuous relationship hadn't formed, then I'm sure she would have eventually sought satisfaction elsewhere. Maybe not right away and maybe not even in a year but eventually she would have. She was a woman with needs and I was surprised that she had managed to hold out for as long as she had. Habit would be my guess. She had gotten used to the poor performance of her partner and it hadn't been until The Mistake that she had realized what she could have. What she was missing out on.

But now she knew, and I would give it to her for as long as she wanted it and would have me.

"Your ass is perfect," I said, staring down at said perfect ass. I loved the way her cheeks jiggled ever so slightly every time she hit bottom.

"Your... ugh... dick is... ugh... perfect..." she said between grunts. "I would know... ugh... I... ugh... made it..."

The effect was immediate. Her words made me twitch inside her. She had never so much as alluded to our positions as family during sex. It had been

strictly

off limits. Her just admitting to it out of the blue like that, mistake or otherwise, made me so fucking hot.

I grabbed her hips, slamming into her with great force, a loud slapping sound resounding in the bedroom as my balls hit skin.

"Fuck yes!" she cried, pushing herself away from the bed surface, standing up on her arms before throwing her head back. "More!"

I obliged, starting the strenuous exercise of getting her off. It was physically demanding, yes, but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. It was

great

workout and I hadn't felt the need to head out for a run even once over the past few weeks.

Her enthusiastic vocal performance was encouraging, egging me on to do a better job, adding just that little bit of extra fun to our coupling. We kept at it for a good five minutes and by then she was really getting into it. It wouldn't be too much longer before she popped.

That's when we both let out matching groans of frustration. We had both heard it, the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming shut. It definitely wasn't Claire as she was spending yet another weekend with her

boyfriend.

"Honey, I'm home,"

he called, his voice coming echoing up the stairs and relatively clear through the crack in the door. We had left it like that on purpose for this very reason.

I let out another grunt of frustration, slamming into her. "Why is he home already?" I growled, aimed more to myself than her.

"I'm sorry baby," she said, letting out a long sigh. "Just keep going. Maybe he won't come up here."

Fat chance of that happening. Still, I wasn't going to stop fucking her if I didn't absolutely have to.

"Yes...!" she yelled. It wasn't clear if she was answering him or if it was caused by my thrusts. Probably both. "I'm up here honey. I'll be down in a bit."