As I began to walk away from my incredibly lovestruck son, he quickly came up behind me and spun me around to face him again. Once again looking deep into my eyes, he said “A wise person once told me it’s fun to be naughty every once in a while and just not worry about the consequences.”
Before I could say anything else after he’d perverted my own words against me, his lips were on mine again. His stubble-beard prickled against my skin again. My nostrils filled with the strong, sweet aroma of his deodorant again. Again, I was equal parts disgusted with ourselves, incredibly horny, intoxicated with the taboo, giddy with adrenaline at the possibility of cheating on my husband, and flattered beyond words by the actions and words sexy young man who found me so desirable he didn’t care that he was about to fuck the woman who his father was married to. I raised my arms and put my hands on his chest again. This time, however, I stopped denying my feelings and admitted that it’d been far too long since I’d felt so desired. Yes, the incest taboo is one of the greatest biological forces in humanity, but it paled in comparison to my desire to feel attractive and sexual again. And I felt so sexy and so wanted and so loved that I’d genuinely stopped caring that it was my son who made me feel that way. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, pressing my lips up into his, moving my hands around his torso and around to his back, embracing him, pulling us closer together than we had been since he was a little boy. I could feel his hardness struggling against his loose-fitting pyjama boxer shorts and pressing into my body. His hands rubbed my back, and he moaned into my lips. I wrapped my arms tight around him and moaned in response. His arms slid down my back and under my butt as he suddenly lifted me up and carried me about eight feet to the bed and he laid me gently down on the hard motel bed linen. He would’ve done it all without ever breaking our kiss, too, if it didn’t make me giggle and cry out “Whee”, feeling like a bride on her wedding night.
My legs dangled off the edge of the bed and Joel stood above me, hunched right over. He ran his hands down the sides of my torso and down to my knees and back up, his fingers feeling all the curves of my body. “You’re so incredible, Mum,” he almost whispered in reverence.
Rather than just predictably reply “You too,” I sat up and kissed my son again, this time relishing the feeling of his stubble-beard. He kissed back and we moaned in unison. He opened his mouth slightly and out came his tongue and licked across my lips. I read his cue and opened my mouth, meeting his tongue with my own. Our mouths locked again and our tongues danced wetly in each other’s mouth. I held the nape of his neck and moan-sighed as I felt the last semblances of my rational, “incest is wrong” mind slip away and gave in to the pure lust I now felt for the boy I’d raised as my own.
Soon enough, I reached for the bottom of the t-shirt Joel was using as a pyjama shirt and began to slide it up his torso. Once I got it more than halfway, he obliged me by pausing our make out session and slid it over his head, tossing it aside without a care. My son now stood before me and I took a moment to breathe in the sight as a woman instead of as a mother. He has a very nice physique – I’d say he was at the upper reaches of “solid”, perhaps sliding into “chubby” if he didn’t start cutting back on the fast food. He has nice broad shoulders and his tummy was starting to develop, but you can’t tell from the front. He has a little bit of chest hair – around his nipples, in the middle of his chest, and a snail trail that starts just above his belly button. I think he must do some push-ups or something, because his arms are quite nice and fairly large for someone who just drives a truck for eight hours a day. As he looked down at me and I looked up at him, I could definitely see the outline of his manhood begging to be set free from his boxers, but that would come later. For the time being, Joel was more focused on looking at me. He knelt down between my legs in front of the bed and reached for my slip.
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