Their Invincible Love

"So what are you now," Raul asks, offering Daisy the lemon Drink. "My mother or sister?"

Daisy has uttered one hundred times what she would answer to this question. But Raul has not digested the matter as she had thought. Now, looking at his puzzled face, she does not know what to tell him. These three days they lived like two unrelated individuals. There is a long sexless pause of three days in their life as lovers. She told her their past with as much care as was required to save him from suffering from being known that he is a bastard, the most unbearable stigma in their society for which a son kills his mother.

The third day she went to work. Now she is home from work. The Editor of the one of the country's most-widely circulated newspaper is in her best attire. The navy-blue slack and blazer, the Armani cotton t-shirt, and a black pair of Milanese shoes make Daisy a prime minister or international lawyer. But a luscious one. Her dark hair, pointed breasts, and natural hips, delicately long arms, and robust thighs are not her best feature. It is her face and her deep wide eyes that are charming alike to a highway pimp, street beggar, high school teenager, or the country's president.

Her face is now a little bit work-worn, but it gives her a languidly sexy look. In other time Raul would by now begin to kiss her to heal her weariness.

Who knows? May be he is feeling hornier now, she thinks. There is something perverted about it, something unusual -- thanks to the stoic nature of her son – that has filled her mind and body with new spirit. The more Raul knew about himself, his identity as a miraculous son, the more mature and manlier he became.

She is constantly gazing at him. Her little boy is now a full-grown man. Looking at his strong jaw-lines she knows for the first time in her life that if ever she has thought to marry a man and surrender herself to his arms, she has thought of somebody in Raul's present self, a young man of immense depth who faces up to a disaster with primal stoicism. A romantic love, mixed with a hunger of three-day's sexual abstention, foams in her soul and sends waves of desire to her extremities. She feels it in her bosom. The maternal breasts, which she has forgotten while she was in her office, now wake up pleasantly, lurching inside her conservative bra. She feels the scraping of her elongated nipples against the cotton fabric. The thinking that the new Raul is closer to her body and mind than the old Raul sends warm bubbling signals to her motherhood. The thick rose petals of her pink pussy-flower unfurls in the air of vapid smoke supplied by a new sexual anticipation centered on her son. The rest of her lush body radiates a sexual heat. She feels perspiration gathers in the creases of her curves, in her armpits, in the denseness of her pubic hair. The feeling is most fidgety in her engorged clitoris. Ahaha, when my bastard will love my love bud with his hot tongue? What if he does not touch me again? Daisy shudders.

Raul is not much shocked. As she popped out the truth finally, he recalled Daisy's enigmatic role-play as his mother. He's tried to understand his heart. A slight humiliation oppressed him. But he was not responsible for it. He cannot blame anybody because Daisy has raised him well. In fact, his upbringing was most ideal among his friends. He never felt the need of a mother because Daisy was there for his every need. What he needed was time, he knew, to let his new position in the house to sink in.

And it has sunk well. Seeing Daisy back from office in a gloomy mood fills his heart with a manly love. In three days, this is the first time she seems to be his mother and he feels it in his soul. There is also a deeper feel in his heart. He finds Daisy is in a dual role. He doesn't want to lose the loving big sister that she has been to him so many years. There was nothing sweeter in seven seas and fifty-one mountains than the perspiration under his loving sister's generous armpits. There was not a safer shade that his elder sister's two up-thrust breasts spread over his head. There was not an aroma more soothing to his juvenile edginess than what smoked between his sexy sister's shapely thighs in her arousal. How generous of it for a big sister to nurture the sexiest garden between her thighs because her nasty brother loved to play in it. No. He is not ready to give up his sister whom he came to know to be the most desired love queen in the megacity, who raised him in disguise of a pampering elder sister.

But finding a mother is something new to him. Now that he can reconcile that she is his mother, her breasts seems to have been sweeter. He is in real need to taste them anew. The first thing he feels while feeling her as his mother is a hunger for her agile breasts. Water is seeping out from his taste buds and dipping his tongue in a pool of wanton secretion. He can't wait to bath her nipples with it.

Daisy drinks the entire glass of cool drink and puts the glass on the side-table. Her body refreshes like a new bride. Sitting on the couch, and looking into his eyes, she is thinking of the answer to his question. She is horny too, lovingly horny. This is the moment to tell him what she wants to be to her son.

"Tell me please who you are?" Raul demands stupidly. The youth is not as keen on an answer as to start talking with the towering personality of the sexiest lady of earth and paradise whose flavor overwhelms his body and mind. He cannot wait to dip in the charms of the goddess of love, sex, and feminism, no matter she is his mother. Yet it matters most that she is what she is: a biological mother and an impostor sister.

"The both," Daisy pops, greening from ear to ear. Her golden earrings flash with her wicked green. Her eyes consume him with an all-encompassing sexual appetite. She takes off her blazer with one jerk and throws it to the other side of the hall-room. She makes it known clear that today they will play more wicked games. Their heaven will be now more debauched, but more pleasant and more livable.

"Baby," Daisy cries. "Baby, my baby, come to me."

She had never undressed so quickly. Undressing her is always fun to Raul. But now she is doing it all by herself. She takes off her t-shirt and her slacks. The slack goes with her blazer, but the t-shirt lodges on Raul's head. She knows how he loves the warmth of her body in her discarded attires. Now that she is stripped to her bra and panties, she considers leaving them for him. She does not want to deprive him the pleasure of denuding her breasts and womanhood, whatever her urge is.

The damp cotton of her attire covers his face. The warm scent of his mother fills his nostrils. He fills his lungs, breathing in deeply in the clean perspiration of his mother in her discarded attire. His manhood responds to the loving feel of this twisted intimacy between the two animalistic beings of one flesh and blood. He gathers her regal garment in her palms and caresses it as if he is caressing her soft skin. He is cursed with an ecstatic shut between his eyelids and does not see in what glory she is waiting in front of him.

Daisy's heart fills with sublime love when she sees how much he adores her discarded attire. It's an outer garment. What would he do to inner ones, she ponders; and her most inner garment, her maternal panties soak wetness in their warm crotch. She feels it in her skin when a trimmed bunch of her pubic hair receives the wetness of her desire. A part of the warm secretion spreads over her ever-fidgety clitoris. Aha, heaven, aha paradise, she wallows in the tormenting pleasure of waiting and anticipation.

Holding her garment in one hand, Raul takes off his jersey. Without losing one single second, he wears his mother's discarded t-shirt. It's a little bit tight for his unfettered torso. The damp armpits of his mother's t-shirt press on his own kinky armpits. He feels his mother's dampness wets his skin through the hair in his under-arm. This is the most intimate kink of love between them. There is also no less hot exchange of love between their bellies through her damp attire. Especially where it touches his navel. His mother's dampness touches the creases of his navel. And he presses the cups of her breasts on his nipples and feels the tingling dampness on them.

"Kinky, no; perverted, no," Daisy revels in her son's twisted gratification. "Paradise, yes."

And now he sees her. He looks straight at her tapered regal legs, from her toes until the lace of her conservative panties. He hates thongs. He loves her panties to be conservative so that they can cover her queenly hips. He loves to see the two full moons of her gorgeous hips reveal before his eyes when he slides her panties over them. She buys only those pairs of panties which he chooses for her. She is glad that he chooses those in which she feels businesslike at work, not the ones which give a lady the feel of a nakedness when she is performing an earthly responsibility.

His eyes climb up the solid muscle of his mother's Athenic thighs. He stares at the heavenly sight of her fortune, covered in his favorite undergarment, between her thighs and waist. Her hips are perfect. A smoke of warmth hovers like a vapor on the damp sight where the fabric covers her pubic hair. If he was denied any other charm of her body, he could masturbate day after day only to the sight of her hips and her pubes in her panties and live happily all his life without desiring any other nasty thing of this unholy world. But he is fortunate that she is kind and generous and denies him nothing.

He looks at her sexy waist. The flat mass of her belly muscle is one of God's most generous gifts. The older she grows the more beautiful and deeper her navel becomes. And yet, she is not growing at all in other parts of her body. Her curves are becoming agiler day by day. Her hips, breasts, and her portal to her innermost paradise are growing, but only in reverse. She is the master of her health, her sex, and her sexiness. She is in full command. She is certainly the most knowledgeable lady in five continents.

Raul devours the sight of her breasts, covered in her white maternal bra. Those healthy breasts have been giving a man pleasure only for two years; and that man is he, a juvenile all-the-time horny young man. As far as he knows now, the other time they were touched was only once when she was fourteen when a wayward prince impregnated her. But she has taken care of those blissful gourds all these years and he is now harvesting them for his pleasure. He is glad that she has taken care of her body.

'Who knows, she has planned everything ever since I was very young, and she has taken care of her breasts thinking of me,' the post-mature son thinks gleefully. Whatever, she does not need a pair of bra to support her solid breasts. Yet she wears them, because it is thought to be decent. But she wears them nowadays mostly to give him the pleasure of taking them off with his own hands.

He looks at her long neck. A small necklace adorns her golden neck. An invisible line of feminine wisp crawls toward her hair. She is not missing one single second of his devouring her glories with his eyes. When his eyes meet her head, she unclips the mass of her hair and let it fall over her shoulder, an act of sheer eroticism, but romantic and sweet, because she is the only mother in the city or country or the world who is doing it for the pleasure of her son, not for a disgusting beast in the name of husband, fiancé, lover, or pimp.

Finally their eyes meet as he looks at his beautiful mother. Lust and love brings blood to their faces. They are in the heaven of their dream. But their dream is their reality. It is dream because it is rare that a mother and son love each other this much and this way. It is reality because they are doing it. She is feeling it in the seeping wetness running to the opening of her motherhood. He is feeling it in the growing rage of his filial manhood. He takes off his boxer, exposes his fully-hard manhood to the hungry eyes of his mother. The incestuous couple jumps into each other's arms. Their lips meet in an all-consuming kiss.

In autumn in this part of the world, nature falls on the earth in the garb of a foggy blanket. In the city, only those people are blessed with this romantic blessing who have a garden adjacent to their house. Daisy and Raul are lucky that they have a thick strip of rose garden surrounded by a wild bush. The house is in a part of the city. But they enjoy all four seasons in it because of the garden. The house is walled on one side with thick blue glass. They can see everything outside but from outside nobody can see them. And there are no humans in their premises to watch over their act of love.

Their bodies are ablaze, not with the autumn heat to kill which they have air-condition, but with the heat of a dog and a bitch whom autumn makes so horny that the bitch thanks her Creator for the knot in the nail of her dog for which she can keep him inside her throughout the season. Growing thirsty with this doggie arousal, they keep drinking one another's saliva. The mother, less thirsty but hornier, drinks drop by drop her son's liquid spit. The son, thirsty like the dog he is, drinks voraciously chewing on his mother's juicy tongue. Their lips clasp together. Their tongues love each other as if the two oral digits are their own marital pair, a bride and groom, enjoying their own flavored world of warmth and sensuality sliding from side to side on each other, opening one's taste buds on another's. Raul often touches his mother's soft mouth walls with the tip of his tongue, gathers clean watery saliva from the creases and brings in a pool on her tongue. Then lapping inward, he drinks. It's sheer worship of her oral sexuality. If not for any other reason, she loves the powerful act of his devilish tongue only for its wicked capacity to rape her oral inertia and give her the feel of being worshipped with the most manly means a lady can dream of only in her wildest dream.

His wild rod of fuck-flesh touches every bit of her naked belly. The slamming of her son's aroused manhood exhausts her belly of blood which runs up to her pussy-lips and the mound of her clitoris, distending these delicate parts of her sex painfully. Her pussy juices sloppily spread all over her pubic mound. Thanks to her clinging panties, the liquid-flow reaches the upper edge of her pubic hair and touches the waistband of her panties. She is more aware of the hot dues that gather in the hollow of her rosebud anus. The smoke in her belly-button grows darker as the wild cock throbs across her navel's sexy ridges.

Daisy tightens her grip around his son, smothering him with her powerful breasts. She clasps fistful of his muscles just for the sheer pleasure of their manliness. Gathering his untamed torso in an overwhelming maternal embrace, she takes both his lips between her soft motherly lips and wetly chews on their manly softness. After the adoring-thank-you kiss, she looks into his eyes, with the meekness of a bride but the sexiness of the goddess that she became to him since the first day she opened her shapely thighs for his enjoyment.

"I am the both, poor boy," she says lovingly, not taking her eyes off his. "I am your sister, because I raised you as a brother. You cannot forget the loving sister that I am to you, nor can I forget the juvenile brother that you are to me. But, my dear child, think of the truth now revealed to you. I carried you in my womb when I was only fourteen. I was myself a child when I carried you. As I was very young, it was difficult for me to feel that I was your mother. I feel more like a sister than a mother. But we have to accept biology. We have to accept that you got life in my womb, I fed you with my blood, and you grew up in my womb. You first saw the beautiful earth through the opening of my motherhood. You know my smell, my feel, and my emotion. You are my child. As I am growing old, I feel motherly affection for you. Listen Raul, the warm shelter between a sister's legs is heaven, but the peaceful sanctuary between a mother's thighs is paradise. And you can have both. I envy you, poor Raul. Think of your friends, all the horny youths, thinks all they have a horny manhood suspended from their waist, crying in sadness and melancholy, and there is no pussy around to bless it. Think how lucky you are. Don't you love me Raul? Don't you love me, whoever am I, your mother or sister? But it is so much the better that I am your mother, that I raised you as a brother. My pleasure doubles when I hug you as both a submissive brother and a juvenile child. Doesn't it make you happy, son? That I am your loving elder sister and mother, that I am letting you fulfill your manly needs with me. I try to be feminine for you. So that not only motherly or sisterly love, you can enjoy the love of a sweetheart. So that you can enjoy all the sex you need in this vital times of your young life? Tell me son, tell me you love me. You forgive me for any misfortune that might or might not befall you, but don't tell that you don't like what I do for you."

Both mother and son look at each other with tearful eyes. Two big pools of tears fill Daisy's deep eyes to the brim. The reticent Raul feels hot tears slide over his blushed cheeks. Daisy's soliloquy is what has been boiling in his fuming mind, word for word. If Raul was not aware of her intellectual and spiritual capacity, he would be astonished at its dormant lucidity. He has prepared him for the same statement. But thanks God, she gave it. Otherwise he would miss the sheer seductiveness with which she wrapped him throughout her warm sexy utterance of every musical word. Without Daisy, this earth would have been dim and unattractive, and endlessly boring.

The incestuous couple wallows in some sadness that does not exist. They are tearful because of the chemistry of love that they recreate faking the sadness of misfortune of their past which they do not care about. But it is good to make themselves feel their love more deeply in this way. This heavenly love makes them want each other more intensely than ever. Daisy's healthy nipples make it known through her thick brassier.

Raul holds the strings of her brassier and kisses on her back below the clip that joins the two ends. Her flesh responds like the forming of a nipple or clitoral hood at the touch of his manly lips. He peels the two flat strings from her damp leather as if it is not denuding his mother's breasts but an act of playful adoration ordained by divinity. He scuttles on her front not to miss the unshackling of her cringing nipples. Lovingly, he slides down the wide cups, feeling the obstinacy of his mother's impliable breasts against the sliding apparel. The purple nipples stand steeply before his lustful eyes.

The round globes of desire crave his attention, salute him as if he is not her son, but the king of her feminine fortunes.

Daisy takes her worn t-shirt off Raul's surrendering torso. Raul is upset that she has not allowed him to take one of her red nipples between his lips.

Daisy is in her panties and in her stylish half-heeled Milanese shoes. But Raul is stark naked. Daisy's eyes fall on his prickly boy nipples. They are small and invisible. But they are sharper than jungle nettles when he is aroused. Daisy can't swallow the naughtiness formed in her breast at the sight of her boy's aroused nipples. She hugs him, clasping his manly asses. Her palms burn on his ass-muscles. But it is her nipples that are now in real ecstasy.

Their chests nicely fit against each other's. With practiced movement, she brings his nipples under the control of her motherly nipples. Her whole body jerks as his stiff nettles prick the flattened creases of her own aroused nipples. She clasps his asses for her dear life. This feel, her boy's sharp nipples pricking her dry but healthy grape fruits, gives her the most intense non-orgasmic ecstasy of incestuous sex. Today the feel is more intense, because this is the first time she can make it know that the nipples making love to his nettles belong not only to his loving elder sister, but also to his very sexy mother, who carried him in her young womb 20 years ago.