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The "New and Improved" Incest Thread!

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landiek said:
But i would love a fragrant bath and made by a sexy guy. -fans self- I do declare I feel a case of the vapours coming on. ;)
Click to expand...

well, here's a bit more...

*

She doesn’t.

“Ooh, lovely,” his mother coos, beaming a smile at him before the door clicks shut behind her. “Thanks, Tony.”

And he’s left on the landing with nothing to do except make a start on the meal.

Tony stares at the door panel for a few seconds, picturing her undressing. He sighs, throat working yet again, a glance going to her bedroom door along the hall. Instead of walking towards the stairs, Tony moves in the other direction, hovering on the threshold, nervous and edgy. He throws a look towards the bathroom door, worried she might, for some obscure reason, appear and catch him mid-transgression. Pausing, unsure, Tony stands there for another half-minute, taking a deliberate step forward when the temptation gets to be too much.

He looks into the open drawer, the dildo lying within, all ribbed and veiny, its girth goading him. He sees his mother again, the image in his mind’s eye. She’s naked, all rounded and voluptuous, legs wide, the fluff of her pubic bush between her wide-spread thighs. Tony isn’t actually aware of the state of his mother’s vulva – she could be smooth and bare or completely natural, he didn’t see when he burst in on her and Johnno, not the way she was leaning forward with her buttocks angled towards him as she’d been.

However, the picture he summons to mind features a delicate wisp of fair hair like a puff of smoke, her breasts rolling, expression tortured, the dildo sliding in and out as she holds it in a backhand grip, really wedging it into her cunt.

Tony lifts the thing from its nest, surprised by the weight and density of the thing. He sniffs it, getting a disappointing whiff of rubber, faint but undeniable, the sight odour off-putting and dissuading him from taking a tentative lick.

He waggles it to test its malleability, squeezing it at midpoint, examining it as though he’s interested in buying one.

He wonders where she got it from. <i>When</i> did she get it? Was it here in the house before his father left?

Then it comes to him, the question of whether his mother has been in bed in this very room, using the dildo on herself while he’s been in his bed, wanking away while sordid imaginings fuelled his ardour. Had his mother tensed and grunted and bitten down on the cries of pleasure, her climax breaking at the very same time that Tony’s ejaculate had spurted out of him?

Tony groans, eyes closing. “Oh shit,” he mutters, carefully laying his mother’s personal property where he found it, careful to leave it exactly as was.

He’s just returned to dildo to its proper place when he’s startled by is mother’s call.

“Tony!” she yells, the volume of her shout an indication she thinks he’s downstairs. “Tony! I’ve left my dressing gown in my room!” Tony!” she calls out again. “Can you hear me?”

Adrenalin at the scare bursts his senses. Tony’s heart gallops. “Fuck,” he mutters through gritted teeth, skulking quickly past the closed bathroom door. He sneaks half-way down the stairs, turning and clod-hopping back up to the landing. “What?” he says, the deception complete. He’s outside the bathroom door. “Did you call, mum?”

“My dressing gown,” his mother says. “I forgot it. It’s in my bedroom … Be a love, eh, Tone.”

It’s the work of a few seconds. “I’ve got it, mum,” says Tony, opening the door.

“Thanks,” she replies, head and shoulders visible, the rest of her submerged beneath foaming bath water. “Just leave it there.” An arm appears, smooth and glistening and dripping water. His mother points to the door. “The hook,” she adds. “Hang it up, eh, love.”

Tony complies, turning to look at her when the job’s done.

He blinks when his mother’s voice registers. He’s been standing there too long, gawping.

There’s a hint of puzzlement in her tone, her expression matching: “Are you sure you’re all right, Tony?” she’s saying.

God, no. he’s definitely not all right. Tony is far from okay. But he can’t tell her what’s going through his mind, Tony might be burning with desire for his own mother, his head riddled with lewd imaginings, but he’s still not so far along that he can just blurt it all out.

“Fine,” he breathes. “Just fine, mum.”

But he can tell she isn’t convinced, he can see his mother’s eyes narrowing, her brow crinkling.

She shifts a little lower in the water, the level rising to her neck as her shoulders are submerged. There’s a gurgle from the overflow set just below the rim of the bath.

“Well, thanks for fetching my gown, Tony.” There’s something in her voice – is it an edge of suspicion. “I’m fine now. Ta.”

It’s a dismissal, and he recognises it as his cue.

“Oh, right, yeah. I’ll be off then.”

*

It’s odd, the feeling he leaves her with. Julie stares at the door, closed again now her son has left. Then, with the water massaging her, as she tries to relax, Julie closes her eyes.

His face is there behind her eyelids.

It was his expression that puzzled her. There was something in the way he’d stared, something wild, almost feral, that disturbed her. Despite recognising she’d experienced it before, Julie couldn’t define the feeling her son’s look had engendered. The expression on his face was one she had been acquainted with before, strangely familiar yet, simultaneously, unrecognisable – a word on the tip of her tongue she couldn’t quite recall. And, just like those moments of linguistic perfidy, despite knowing she knew, the harder she sought the answer, the more elusive it seemed.

Then, as had been the case so frequently over the last few days, Julie’s libido, so long dormant after her husband’s abandonment, yawns and stretches and begins to purr.

Her son and his strangeness vanish from her mind as Julie’s fingers swim towards her vulva.

A mewl comes out of her when her finger finds her clit. Julie has her labia splayed, the tender nub pulsing, water sloshing as breath hisses from her nose.

“Oh, God,” she moans, a finger easing into her opening. She’ll be full of water afterwards, but she doesn’t care, and all Julie can concentrate on for a few minutes are the tingles and delicious sensations of masturbating in a cloud of lavender scent while enveloped in warm water.

She’s rubbing at herself, alternating the urgent manipulation of her flesh half an inch above her clitoris with slipping two fingers in her opening, it’s too tender to take, her fingers right on the button. Julie has to bite down on the groans and swallow the sobs that threaten to burst out of her. She has to exercise a modicum of restraint otherwise the floor will be awash. She hopes, if she can manage it without moaning and groaning so much Tony can hear, to coax an orgasm out into the open. Julie needs some release, is desperate for a climax, some respite from the agony she’s brought upon herself.

“Fuck,” she grunts, the feeling swelling, the heat burgeoning, toes curling. “Oh fucking hell. Oh fuck, yes…”

And then, just as she’s about to tip over the edge, a few seconds before the irreversible tide washes over her and she’s lost, Julie hears a knock at the door.

Tony’s voice: “Mum? I just thought … well, I wondered if you want a glass of wine.”

Julie’s jaw is clamped shut, muscles twitching as she fights against the sob bubbling in her throat. Her entire body is rigid, the spasms held in check as the door opens.

“Wine, mum?” says Tony, his head and shoulders appearing around the door.

Julie’s head goes under, the silent scream of frustration coming up in a mass of bubbles.

“Oh, thanks, Tony,” she manages to gasp, pretending her son’s impromptu and very unwelcome intrusion just happened to coincide with her submersion, as though ducking under the water was the planned precursor to washing her hair. “You’re so thoughtful.”

It’s later, when she’s in bed, with the house silent and Tony in his own room that Julie gropes for the dildo, fucking herself to the climax she’d missed out on.

She thinks Tony is in bed, Julie doesn’t know he’s lurking in the dark outside her bedroom door, as he is for the next five nights, although the timing varies. Some nights she does it, others he doesn’t hear a thing as he listens outside her door.

He creeps along the landing every night until Thursday, pressing his ear to his mother’s bedroom door. Occasionally, he hears the unmistakable sound of her moaning and sighing, his mother uttering little cries, mumbling to herself.

It excites him beyond measure, this voyeurism, taking Tony to the limits of endurance. He strokes his cock and listens, barely able to restrain himself, yet, somehow he manages to hold himself in check and not burst into her room, a part of his brain functioning to tell him that wouldn’t be a good idea.

Licentious thoughts and lewd imaginings have taunted his days and haunted his nights, and Tony isn’t too sure about how he got through the working week. But it’s Friday, the start of the weekend, and Tony relishes the thought of all that time in her company.

It’s mid-afternoon when Tony parks the fork-lift in its bay, lifting the battery cover to expose the big square bank below before he plugs the charger into the slot on the side of the machine. After that, job done for the week, Tony leaves the warehouse. He fires up his motorbike – the 250cc machine his mother made such a fuss about him getting, headlights on, hi-vis jacket adding to his profile, making him more obvious to car drivers. But the idiot in the Ford Focus still fails to see the motorcyclist, the front bumper of the car catching Tony’s back wheel, spilling Julie’s son into the road.
 
When I grabbed her ass she smacked my arm but she was laughing and smiling. She knows I want to fuck her, I've told her before but she never wants to talk about it if I try to flirt.
 
lookmanobrains said:
When I grabbed her ass she smacked my arm but she was laughing and smiling. She knows I want to fuck her, I've told her before but she never wants to talk about it if I try to flirt.
Click to expand...


Wow, you TOLD her you want to fuck her ?? And...while not obliging your wish, she let that go and still lets you fondle her ??
 
I wouldn't say fondle. I told her about 8 years or so ago that I had a strong urge to have sex with her. She said it wasn't going to happen. Since then I've flirted with her a few times but she always changes the subject. I'm married and so is she. I've told her I fantasize about her. When I saw her bent over in the kitchen tonight I gave her ass a nice rub. She laughed and I did it again. She smacked my arm and told me to knock it off. She came up alone to my house but my wife is here or I might've tried more. She might be staying tomorrow night too so I'll see if I can get in another touch.
 
I have always had an incest fetish, being an only child my mother was the main object of my lust. I would sniff and lick her panties. But never actually had a sexual relationship with her. My fantasies involved other family members too, aunts cousins, family orgies, my mom's uncles having sex with her too. I knew it was taboo but strangely seemed natural to have these fantasies. I am jealous of all who were able to actually have that intense incest relationship!
 
okay, a jump forward. it's a draft so there will very likely [certainly] be typos and fuck-ups.

but...

:

The front door opens at a push and she’s home.

It’s the two of them and nobody else has to know.

“Tony!” calls Julie. “Babe, I’m home! Mummy’s home, darling, where’s my big boy?”

He appears at the top of the stairs, and when Julie looks up she gasps.

Tony grins down at his mother. “I know,” he says, slowly stroking an erection. “I saw you park up.” Tony waggles his cock at his mother. “Did you come home early for this?” he asks.

At the sight of her son’s impressive jib, Julie swallows, her insides melting, heat flooding south. “You’re a bad boy, Tony,” she smirks.

Her son shrugs, his fist working his length in an absent fashion, as though he’s just keeping himself primed. He gazes down at his mother, expression suddenly thoughtful. “Are you coming upstairs, mum?” he asks. “I’ve missed you. I love you, you know.”

Love for her son climbs Julie’s throat. Her chest is tight, the cage of her ribs too small for the emotion ballooning within. She goes for humour: “You’re just horny,” she says, grinning.

Tony nods but his face holds the same wistful longing. “True,” he replies, “but I really do love you, mum.” His voice catches when he adds, “I’m so glad this has happened.”

Julie drops her bag at the foot of the stairs, a hand going to the newel as she starts the ascent.

Tony’s eyes are on her all the way, and he steps back a pace when Julie crests the top step.

“Is this for me?” Julie asks, her fingers curling round her son’s girth. Her eyes glint diamonds as she leans in to kiss Tony’s mouth, heat flaring between her legs.

Tony mewls and closes his eyes, his lips parting.

The couple kiss, mother and son’s tongues sliding and writhing, Julie’s hand cranking away.

“God but you’ve got a gorgeous cock, my love,” Julie breathes, her gaze locked on Tony’s.

“Mum, please,” the young man whines. “If you keep doing that I’ll…”

Julie chuckles, a rich and throaty snicker bubbling out of her while her fingers squeeze Tony. “If you come you’ll ruin my skirt,” she pouts. “I’ll take off then, shall I?”

Tony’s mother eases her son away with a hand on his chest, fingers next going to the waistband of the pleated kilt.

“You watching, Tone?” Julie murmurs, pausing for effect as she watches her son’s reaction. Stripping down for him, teasing and drawing out the moment, keeping him dangling, that’s as big a trill for Julie as it is for her son.

Arousal ripples through her; she feels her nipples tighten when she sees the hunger on his face.

“Do you like the undies, babe?” Julie whispers after unwinding the kilt.

Tony boggles at the sight: his mother’s plump pudendum packed into pale green knickers.

Julie poses for a few beats and then drops the kilt to the floor.

“Well?” she asks, “do you, babe?”

“Mum,” Tony whines, his throat working, eyes almost bulging from their orbits. He strokes his cock, licking his lips in anticipation, arousal a leaden, visceral drag. “Take them off.”

Julie wags a finger, head tilting, eyebrows arching. “Oh no,” she chides, smirking. “No-no-no … No.” Easing past her son she walks away, deliberately exaggerating the roll of her hips, knowing her buttocks will jiggle as she walks. She hopes her son’s eyes are glued to the cheeks of her bottom and that he’s standing at the top of the stairs staring at her.

When she throws a quick look back over her shoulder, Julie’s smirk widens to a satisfied grin – he’s doing exactly that. She stops outside her bedroom, unfastening the white blouse she wore for work, shedding the garment, it too falling to the floor.

Tony watches his mother’s blouse float to the carpet; he sees one bare shoulder angled towards him, her breasts in profile with the bra matching the pale green of her undies. His fist cranks harder. Tony tongue slides over his lips, desire coiling in his guts.

“You’re a naughty boy,” Julie chides, pouting with false admonishment. She waggles the forefinger again. “You shouldn’t masturbate in front of your mother, Tony.” Her hands go behind her back as Julie turns square on to face her son. “It makes me wet and hot to see it,” she adds, voice hoarse with her own yearning. “Doing that in front of me…” She holds the cups of the bra to her body. “Seeing my lovely big boy doing that…”

Tony sighs and rolls his eyes when his mother’s breasts sway free. The bra dangles from her hand.

“See what happens to me, Tony?” says Julie, chin on chest as she looks down at herself. The bra joins the blouse, discarded, forgotten. “My nipples are so stiff and tender, babe.” She looks up quickly, eyes going to her son’s face. “Can you see? Can you see mummy’s nipples, Tone?” Julie hefts her breasts in her palms, both hands squeezing the globes together, flesh squashed against flesh, the tips of her forefingers teasing the elongated teats. “Look at them, babe,” Julie whispers. “Do you want to suck mummy’s tits?”

Tony growls and releases his cock, the feral twist to his features sending a surge of excitement through Julie. She’s got him wound up. He’s hot for her; her own son is mad with desire for her.

Despite the damage to his leg, which is slowly but steadily improving, Tony gets there quickly, grabbing at his mother when he arrives.

“Don’t you just love being in the house together, Tony?” Julie says, leaning back at the waist slightly while her son mauls her tits, his tongue sliding all over her skin, nipple to nipple.

“I do, mum,” Tony snuffles before sucking one teat between his lips. His mouth smacks off Julie’s flesh. “I still don’t believe we’re together, like this. I never expected … I never thought…” Then he abandons the attempt at speaking, focussing his attention on his mother’s heavy globes for a few more seconds before she pulls his face up for a kiss.

“I can’t quite get over it myself, Tony,” Julie gasps when the kiss breaks. “It’s a crazy thing to do. I’m not sure how it all came about.” She kisses her son again, holding his cheeks between her hands when she pulls away. “But isn’t it exciting, our little secret?”
 
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