Here?! Conscience inquired in shock.
Sure here! Why not? It’ll make it that much dirtier!
But it’s incest!
Are you touching him? Is he touching you? Are you two fucking? No.
It’s still incest.
Well, technically yes. But isn’t dirty sex supposed to be the best? What’s dirtier than incest? Besides after you get yourself off now, you can later replace Richie’s face with someone else’s. You’ve been through so much, Mag. Why not treat yourself? Treat yourself to this voyeuristic delight! Pleasure yourself now to this forbidden sight!
It was as if Mag’s body was sold on Libido’s reasoning. Her nipples were quickly solidifying and moisture began to seep in between her legs.
Libido continued its salesmanship. You see that? You FEEL that? Your nipples are getting hard as pebbles and your cunt is brewing a tidlewave. Go ahead! Pinch your nipples. Caress your breasts. Finger your—
“Oh, mom!” groaned the slumbering lad. “Oh, mom! I’ll take care of you!”
His thrusts gained quality and quantity after he uttered the ‘m’ word.
The parent didn’t move or utter a sound. Even her mental fighters were silent.
“I’ll take care of you. Oh, you feel soooo good, Mom!” He rotated his hips and shoved up his stiff, expansive, denim-covered prick into the air, again and again.
Checkmate! Libido triumphantly proclaimed.
Mag’s brain was frazzled. Her son had never exhibited any usual attraction to her. She never had any Kay Parker-type inclinations toward him. How could all of this be happening? Her mind was scrambling for anything remotely sensible which could explain the unnatural sexuality which was occurring. After what seemed like an eternity, her mental capability came up with it.
Stress.
Stressful situations often caused sexual arousal. She was stressed because of her husband’s infidelity and the subsequent divorce. She was stressed that Richie volunteered to throw out his father. Richie himself about the whole thing, especially making sure his father left.
Yes, it was stress, she surmised. It was stress which was bringing on Richie’s dream and her own arousal.
Now that Mag had a reasonable explanation for an unreasonable situation, she could allow herself to submerge into this decadence. She quickly opened her blouse and lifted her massive rack out of the bra. The cool air felt good on her excited nipples. She cupped each breast and caressed it, her eyes glued to her dry-humping son. She felt the weight of “the twins,” trembling as her palms squeezed the curved edge of each tit. Her breathing was becoming labored, then turned to whimpering as she pinched the hard nipples and bloated areolas.
Next, one hand raised her skirt at the same time a thigh parted. The other hand traveled down from her chest. The southbound hand slipped under the frilly waistband of her panties and commenced to briskly rub her steaming cunt.
She wantonly glared at her son. “Oh, Richie! This feels soooo good,” she softly moaned as the flats of her fingers were skimming over her fleshy, drooling, inflamed lips.
As if the sleeping lad was sharing the moment with her, he chimed in with a repeat.