Tragedy

/* All characters in this work of fiction are over 18 */

Poor Tom, his world was shattered by the sudden death of his father. Even now, standing beside his father's grave with his mother's arm around his shoulder, he put on a brave face while inside he was in agony, sick with grief and guilt.

He was witnessing the burial of his father. He was feeling the normal feelings of gut wrenching loss, sorrow. A deeper, darker part of him was responding to his mother's touch. It was meant to comfort him as it always did. It also did something else -- something shameful. He had tried to fight it, resist it, for as long as he could remember. What was wrong with him? He had two wonderful parents who had loved him, cared for him, made him so happy. His father was gone, the man who had advised him, played with him, taken him to the beach, cared for him, been a best friend and mentor. Now he was gone, being buried, even as the sick feelings crept to the surface.

He looked at his mother. She was beautiful, elegant, graceful, and he loved her dearly. She loved him unconditionally and selflessly. He was a good son, caring, tender, sweet. Yet, he harbored a terrible, dirty secret, one that poisoned him and excited him. On this day, at this moment, he was repulsed by it, by himself. His mother's touch aroused him. Combined with the love and caring that it always conveyed it was the most intoxicating drug he could imagine.

In his darker indulgences he had fantasized about her. At first, almost innocent thoughts filled his head. His mind had extrapolated the sensation of her hands on him to their under-clothed bodies pressing together. The searing heat, the intense pleasure of naked flesh on flesh. The shame of his desires limited them to just the sensation of her body against his.

One day, their lips had accidentally brushed as they were about to kiss the other's cheek, but were caught going the same way. His mother had just laughed it off and probably forgotten it had ever happened. This seared Tom's senses. The taste of her lips had been heavenly. The sensation of their lips grazing was mind numbing. Since that day he had been mesmerized by those perfect lips and wanted to explore them further, to feel them against his lips again. He had imagined spending hours just kissing them, tasting them, savoring them in every way. From tender kisses to sucking on a lip to kissing her whole mouth, tongues thrusting, twirling, licking hungrily together. The intensity of his fantasy always had a physical impact on him.

One day he had seen his mother completely naked. The towels were being laundered. She was in a hurry. She had gone for a bath and forgotten the towels. They were in a linen closet in the hallway. He had not heard her call to him. He was walking down the same hallway when she came out -naked- dripping wet. Both were so shocked at seeing each other that neither one moved for what seemed like an eternity. The vision of her naked body was branded into his mind, the proud B cups sticking out invitingly without being obscene. The soft pussy hair that was maintained, but just a little bushy. The perfectly flared child bearing hips. A single drop of water clinging to one pink, fully erect nipple. Time stood still as he recorded every inch of her bare body. She was the vision of womanhood, like a goddess of love. An eternity later, her hands moved to cover herself; she could not possibly have done anything more erotic than that. One hand moved to cover her womanhood, the other forearm covering her breast. She possessed the most desirable contradiction that makes a woman so incomprehensible yet so intensely desirable. In that one gesture she wove together the essence of girlish modesty, womanly pride of her natural beauty, the innocence of a first love, and the knowing maturity of a worldly woman.

When she turned and walked away, the fluid sway of her hips and the slight jiggle of her bare ass cheeks had paralyzed him. Tom couldn't remember how long he had stood there even after she had gone. That was the day he had lost his guilt about his desire for his mother. That was the day he had given over to unabashed incestuous lust. That day he has masturbated seven times to the image of her. He was sore for a week after, so sore that he could not touch himself. The frustration of not being able to jerk off to the most erotic image of his life made his mind probe deeper, creating darker fantasies.

Predictably, his mother was naked in these new fantasies, unrestrained by shame. The actual event of seeing his mother naked was played back, only ending very differently than it actually had. In these fantasies he recalled that he had walked down the hallway, only he had been naked, having just showered himself. The sight of her had made him hard, incredibly, painfully hard. As she covered herself she saw his hardness and his desire. She bit her lower lip in indecision as she looked at him. She was proud of the physique he maintained. She was flattered and embarrassed by his reaction at the sight of her. She had finally gone back to her bedroom, but not closed the door. He had followed her into the darkened bedroom and only a little light was coming from the open door. The afternoon sun was completely blocked out by the curtains. He had come up behind her and hugged her as he did so many times before. His hip pressed into her ass cheek, but he kept his erection away from her. It was a loving and tender gesture, not a sexual one. Since he respected her in this way, she had not objected. His arms had slid around her waist and he had placed his head on her neck. Sighing contently, she let him hold her like that. The nakedness was not so much sexual as a bonding of two people who loved each other. He had kissed her neck tenderly, as her hands tenderly ruffled his hair, just like she always did. She was so intensely caring. They swayed together sweetly.

He had sighed softly, "Oh mom," melting her heart, causing her to turn to face her sweet son, cupping his face in her hands.

Looking tenderly in his eyes she whispered, "Oh Tom, my darling son."

He loved when she called him darling. He had kissed her cheek and she kissed his. They nuzzled sweetly as he held the woman of his dreams, naked. His penis was throbbing, but he was careful to turn his body away just enough to avoid poking her with it. He wanted to touch her with it so bad, but he knew she would stop if the situation became blatantly sexual. He suddenly felt her nipples touch him as they embraced. Electric waves of pleasure flooded his body at the touch of her nipple. Her nipples grazed his bare chest, teasing him. They kept moving closer. Their bodies wanted to touch, to hold. Feeling the pressure of her breasts now against his chest, he almost passed out from the intense pleasure. He didn't want this to end. He summoned all his will power to keep from giving in, to keep from pressing his shaft against her. He trembled from the effort. Their bodies melted together, becoming one, like old familiar lovers. Their shared blood, and their shared genes, naturally re-joining, sensing the lost other half's embrace. Her breasts crushed into him as her pussy touched his pelvis. Her pelvis straddled his left leg as his body turned slightly to the right, his aching manhood right over her hip. The touch of her soft pussy hair against his bare leg almost made him cry out in pleasure. Desperately, he muffled the cry, burying his face into her neck. She gently caressed his neck, tousling his hair, almost sending him over the edge. Suddenly, her whole womanhood was on him, against his thigh, the hot flesh searing into his leg. His mind spun and his heart stopped, blood was pounding in his ears. He could not breathe with such an intense sensation. He clung to her for dear life. She took his weight, handling the burden as she always had. Sensing the burden he was to her, how she held him still, he fought for inner strength to carry his own weight.

Slowly, he was able to hold his own and to take some of the load from her. Sensing his strength, she leaned against him. He felt so incredibly manly. He was so proud to support his mother for a change. Her shift from protector to protected made him feel redeemed as not only her son, but as a man. She leaned her head on his chest, and then slowly looked up at him. He saw the familiar love and pride in her eyes that was so warm and comforting. This time, there was something more. A sexual glaze could be found in her eyes. He was the source of that pleasure. His chest almost busted with pride to see her pleasure.

Wordlessly, as if with one mind, they went together, arm in arm to her bed. She pulled the sheet back and they both slipped into her side of the bed. She stretched out her arm as she lay facing him. He put his head on her arm, facing her. Their legs were entwined. Moving closer, his penis touched her pussy hair, but ventured no further. Her fingers ran through his hair as his arms encircled her waist. One hand was on her bare lower back, the other rested on her hip. Whispering how much they love each other, they both fell asleep. For Tommy it was a bitter-sweet sensation. He had never experienced such intense pleasure nor such intense frustration. He wanted her so bad, he ached for her. As he had fallen asleep in his fantasy, in his reality he had awakened.

He was bathed in sweat, with his heart pounding, and a boner that threatened to kill him. It had seemed so real that he had jerked off at least five times a day for the next week. He was chaffed so badly, but he couldn't stop.

From then on his fantasies had become more explicit. At first, there were just images. They were awakening after having falling asleep together, naked in various intimate positions. They were waking up kissing, with their mouths locked. He woke with his face in her cleavage, caressing those beautiful breasts with his lips as his mother lay with her eyes closed. He was waking to the feeling of his manhood pressed against her hips as he rocked against her. She understood his need for release and she held him to her.

One day his fantasies crossed a taboo line, this time without any real world impetus. The tip of his shaft was inside of her. He awoke in shock, not daring to move as his mind slowly grasped what had happened. He has seen her wide awake, unmoving and looking at him. They just lay there, neither one saying or doing anything. He knew he should have pulled back. His mind screamed for him to, but his body refused to respond. Instead, his cock pulsated longer than ever before. Without moving, he had entered her deeper, as more of the tip entered her. She didn't move or respond. For a long moment there was nothing but the sound of soft breathing. She bit her lower lip, her eyes searching his. He could see that he had to decide. He moved ever so slightly towards her, with the whole head going inside. She responded only enough to allow him to comfortably move a little closer to her. He couldn't believe it. He had entered his own mother and she had let him. Her face was inscrutable. His body trembled with desire and fear. Could he go further? Dare he? If he tried, he could he lose what he had accomplished. Feeling a little embarrassed to look at his mother while inside her, he looked down abashed. Only to be greeted by the sight of his penis head lodged inside his own mother with the throbbing shaft sticking out obscenely. Gasping at the visual, with his senses heightened, he couldn't resist pressing himself into her. He watched the shaft probe her a little deeper, stars exploded in his head with the sensation. This was obscene, yet beautiful. One part of him was sick from his incestuous act. Another part of him felt so right to want to be inside of the woman he loves. He was finally expressing that love. This was an act of comfort, an expression of deep, intense love.

Without thinking, he kept pushing inside of her. He watched in wonder at his penis disappearing inside her. He was flushed with pleasure at the sensation of her velvet encasing him. He plunged deeper and deeper, burying himself to the hilt. Fully embedded, he finally looked up at her and the enormity of what he had done fully hit home. Her face was peaceful, with a touch of happiness. Her eyes were closed, and he didn't dare move. He didn't want this to end. He lay there slightly on top of her and he felt her soft bush tickling his hairless balls. It was such an erotic sensation. His body took control and started to gently rock against her, ever so slightly. He put just a little more pressure against her, then leaned back. The sensation was exquisite. He felt her pulling him into her with her muscles as he leaned back and released. Waves of pleasure lapped through his body. He could spend his whole life like this, drifting on waves of pleasure inside of his own mother. His mother's body slowly tensing, with soft moans escaping her parted lips. He felt such pride for making her orgasm first. Her convulsing body pushed him over the edge, to his own orgasm. His orgasm was an explosion of unadulterated pleasure.

The imagined orgasm was always so intense that he would promptly return to reality, like being awoken from a deep sleep, not sure which world is real and which is imagined. The satisfaction from the imagined act mixed with the emptiness from knowing it was only a fantasy left him feeling excited, but still empty.