After this fascinating research session, my cunt was begging for attention, so I pulled up Literotica and did a search for incest stories and couldn’t believe the massive amount of stories about incestuous relationships. There were brother-sister, aunt-nephew, dad-daughter, and mom-son. There were also quite a few mom-daughter stories and other same sex variations. I redefined my search to mom and son and began reading. Although they were fiction, the stories drew me in as I imagined I was the mother and Paul the son. After a few stories, I brought myself to an intense orgasm.
The next day, I went online and read a forum full of people who admitted to having incestuous sex. Eventually I came across one that stirred me:
I started having sex with my son just after his eighteenth birthday. As he grew from teenager to man I couldn’t believe how much he resembled his deceased father. When he wore a tux for his prom, I knew I wanted him. I researched the morality of incestuous sex, I chatted online with women who had had sex with their son and decided that for his nineteenth birthday I would give him the present that it seemed many boys fantasized about…his mom. We have been lovers ever since. Although we are not man and wife legally, we act like a married couple. Kennedy
Her story resonated in me as it was the exact same emotions I was feeling. I clicked on her name and was thrilled to see I could contact her by email.
Curious to know more, I emailed her:
Kennedy, I hope I am not being forward, but having read your brief declaration of your intimate relationship with your son, I was hoping for advice. I too want to have sex with my son. I too have lost my husband. I too see my husband in my son’s looks, voice and mannerisms. Can you give me advice on how to cross the line? Eager Mother
Pressing send, I went back to Literotica to read a few more stories before heading to work.
Getting back from work around ten at night after a long day at the hospital, where I am a nurse, I slipped out of my shoes and went to check on Paul.
I unbuttoned another button on my blouse before I knocked on his door and said, “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” he said.
I stepped into his room and found him on his bed reading a book. “How was your day, honey?”
“Riveting,” he sarcastically responded, looking at me.
“Is that an SAT word,” I joked going to his bed.
“I don’t think so,” he shrugged, seemingly looking down at my legs as I walked towards him.
“What are you reading?” I asked, reaching him and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“A Fault in Our Stars,” he answered, “I need to finish reading it before the movie comes out later this month.”
“Cool,” I said. I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek again, before adding, “It was a long day, I’m going to go shower.”
“Okay, Mom,” he nodded, his cheeks again going red. Obviously my kiss either turned him on or embarrassed him. I was dying to know which.
I stood up and headed to the door. Stopping, I turned around, noticing he was again looking down at my legs. Curious if I was correct, I sighed, “Darn pantyhose,” and returned to the bed, put my foot on the end of the bed, bent over and fixed my nylon at the toes.