I Abused My Mother
I decided to tell my story on this site after reading some stories about mother-son relationships, although I think mine is not even as interesting compared with the things that I've read. I am 34 and she 53. Our case is quite recent since we are talking about incest. It really started four years ago and not in a very beautiful way. There was much embarrassment from both sides, but still I became her lover and until today I receive your visits at my house. She's not like the mothers in those thousands of stories out there, already 49 years old at that time, looking her age off and a little under-groomed but I think whoever is on the receiving end of this desire wouldn't normally look for a woman with her characteristics.
She and my dad were separated, one of the many times he left us... but she was falling into depression all over again.
I'd take tranquilizers and sleeping pills, be hysterical from time to time, apathetic at times.
The fact that I was taking this kind of medication made me worried and irritated, always having to take her to bed. That's when I had the idea like Jericho to make a dent in the situation. She was dressed and realized she could pick him up without any problem as she lay on the couch, I still had the whim to adjust it so as to have an excellent view of what I wanted, the bouquet. I pulled one leg down until my foot was on the floor and left the other leg on the couch, this way she had her legs wide apart. It wasn't that hard to keep going from there; all it took was lifting up a dress and enjoying one of the best views of my life:
Seriously, I don't know what made me do it because there was no tatbu to see her naked at home. Not that she always felt comfortable but every once in a while something happened.
At that age, as a grown man I had already slept with several women and made love to some of them. But what I felt at the time was unlike anything I'd ever experienced in sex before; my erection went boom! Her pube besides being hairy like one where her combs come out from underwear edges were big - an awful forehead if you want to be clear... The noble feelings that I had were all worthless, and I'd blocked out everything: morality, shame, remorse, responsibility.
I remember very well that even the abnormality of wanting to eat my mother's bottle was just an extra attraction, it felt good thinking about being in between her legs. I started playing a little bit. First I touched the bottle on top of his underpants which is delicious, excess hair made the bowl look like a hot pillow, and spent quite some time there, playing over him pressing with your finger to mark the opening of the bucket.
Every now and then I'd look at her face to see if she was still awake, no sign of waking up, start kissing and running my tongue in the pocket even over her panties which by the way were half-transparent yellow that only helped contrast with this immensity of hair. I came back to myself when she wriggled a little and muttered something, froze up and walked away for awhile but saw that she was still fainting.
My dick was like a piece of cabbage and I even thought about sticking it in her mouthpiece. The sight of those fleshy lips protruding over the abundant hair made me numb. I forgot that she'd just woken up and stuck my tongue back into it again, couldn't believe it, girls with whom I had climbed had small shaved buttocks, which makes me compare my mother's cunt to an enormous chocolate cake, one you think of eating alone hidden from everyone, at this moment lust and gluttony looked alike.
I pulled out my cane, lowered my panties to the middle of her thighs, she didn't wake up and started punching myself looking at his face and that saxophone he was playing.
It was hard even to get her dressed before I tried to take her to bed, couldn't leave her there with my legs spread wide open and my panties down. She left the room feeling badly that something wasn't quite right and I knew it; after enjoying a glimpse of her bouquet she seemed totally distorted, disgusted by me, herself, what she had done. This feeling eaten away at me for days or weeks but diminished over time. When I came back, she was still there in a deep sleep from the sedatives. So I shook her several times until it gave any sign that she would wake up... My mistake!
The next day, she mentioned in no uncertain terms that something had occurred to her last night and I swore to myself that I would never do such a thing again.
I started to masturbate all the time thinking about her, and took advantage of it by looking for moments when she was naked or even in underwear. She would show up at his room right after he came out from the bathroom always with some excuse, ask something, say something...I think that's where she began touching herself; made a malicious comment on an undies she had been wearing the other day; walked into her bedroom and she was taking off pants that didn't fit anymore - she got fatter since my dad left us last time. She asked me what I thought about a social kind of trousers that she almost never wore, and I said I didn't know which one I was talking about. That bought time; she just went in her underwear to pick it up. When she put them on, they were really too tight, but honestly my goal had been to see her as long as possible without pants. In the interim I commented that actually the problem was with the big ugly panties. I said this in the most natural way I could get away with, but still words came reluctantly out, she only replied there was nothing wrong with the panties, so I kept insisting and then things got weird. It falls into the nonsense of saying exactly this: The lady has to put on a smaller panties, which marks well her ass, that comes in a little and highlights your pussy!Our one, it seemed like an iceberg had invaded the room! we were silent. She quickly put on pants and asked me to leave because she had to finish getting ready.
There I thought that had buried me for good, was afraid that she might have some flash of the night when it was bolinked by me, to start suspecting my going to his room, anyway ... more time sauce.
I had to give her a chance that she was dressed or not, and my first poop came when I decided to disrespect it. It's been more than two months since that night.
I cursed that inconvenient jeans, with her weight, the tight clothes, it wouldn't be easy to play. The way out was a small hut claiming that those medicines were killing her and then she would spend all next day complaining of body pain from sleeping on the couch. We had argued before because I did not like receiving friends at home with her sprawled on the sofa. She said my colleague would go home so she could touch herself and get into bed. She was already babbling instead of talking, so I practically carried her into the bedroom and decided to sink my foot in the mud that night.
I sat her down on the bed and without thinking twice, went from behind and ripped off her blouse. She was still awake but no longer conscious. Seized an opportunity and put my hands in her boobs, took it really, she said something that I didn't understand. Lashed her up and walked to the front, pulled out her shoes, unbuttoned her pants and dragged her downstairs. She stretched herself with only panties and a bra, did not want to go deeper right away. Spent some more time in the living room and returned to the bedroom when she had definitely embarked into the world of dreams. It was the big night. I ripped off her bra and panties, delighted myself in her... this time taking all my clothes off as well but not penetrating it for fear of hurting her.
Several times she mentioned waking up, except that unlike the first time I didn't mind and even thought it was a good situation to penetrate her. So I went into the kitchen, got some oil and came back, licked my fingers with the viscous fluid and stuffed myself in her mouthpiece, licking her clitoris, giving little kisses on her nipples, going so far as rubbing the head of my stick against her mouth.
At a certain moment, I turned her on my stomach and opened her legs wide. There he was, that wonderful button with its tight folds. No doubt about it, I lay down in the middle of his legs and passed my tongue from lips to butt without being ashamed to speak, licked her own ass and kissed him too; once again she gave some blows and closed her legs. As I couldn't take any more, I knelt between her legs and did the old punch ritual, but this time I got there and put my stick through her arse while stabbing myself. Enjoying herself on her bottom.
I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself up with toilet paper and then came back into my room, wiped down her folds.
She questioned the fact that I had woken up naked and replied that when I took her to bed, I removed her clothes so she could sleep well but couldn't get by with my sweater on. She told me there was no need to take them off as she had become accustomed to sleeping like this much less taking off her panties and bra; I remained silent. The same day I found out that if she didn't know or at least suspected something had happened that night. She surrounded me a few times in conversation about having had a very restless sleep and finally asked whether I had "moved" around her somehow while she slept.
At the time, I thought about hiding or denying it all but got caught in the middle and wanted to know what she meant by having "melted" on her.
I don't know what came over me, but I let it be known that I had touched her a few times and enjoyed the sight of my own mother naked in front of me. She turned purple, green, blue, yellow -- she looked like a rainbow, jokingly, but didn't say another word about it, which is when I found out she did not know how to deal with this situation, which could have been reversed for me.
This story is a bit long, so I'll stop here and write the second part again soon. I know that many people may not like this beginning, but when I started to tell what happens between me and my mother, I wanted to do it from the start because otherwise it would be just another erotic tale invented in a moment of excitement. Those who want to correspond with me can send me an email photographer_amateur_sp@hotmail.com
She and my dad were separated, one of the many times he left us... but she was falling into depression all over again.
I'd take tranquilizers and sleeping pills, be hysterical from time to time, apathetic at times.
The fact that I was taking this kind of medication made me worried and irritated, always having to take her to bed. That's when I had the idea like Jericho to make a dent in the situation. She was dressed and realized she could pick him up without any problem as she lay on the couch, I still had the whim to adjust it so as to have an excellent view of what I wanted, the bouquet. I pulled one leg down until my foot was on the floor and left the other leg on the couch, this way she had her legs wide apart. It wasn't that hard to keep going from there; all it took was lifting up a dress and enjoying one of the best views of my life:
Seriously, I don't know what made me do it because there was no tatbu to see her naked at home. Not that she always felt comfortable but every once in a while something happened.
At that age, as a grown man I had already slept with several women and made love to some of them. But what I felt at the time was unlike anything I'd ever experienced in sex before; my erection went boom! Her pube besides being hairy like one where her combs come out from underwear edges were big - an awful forehead if you want to be clear... The noble feelings that I had were all worthless, and I'd blocked out everything: morality, shame, remorse, responsibility.
I remember very well that even the abnormality of wanting to eat my mother's bottle was just an extra attraction, it felt good thinking about being in between her legs. I started playing a little bit. First I touched the bottle on top of his underpants which is delicious, excess hair made the bowl look like a hot pillow, and spent quite some time there, playing over him pressing with your finger to mark the opening of the bucket.
Every now and then I'd look at her face to see if she was still awake, no sign of waking up, start kissing and running my tongue in the pocket even over her panties which by the way were half-transparent yellow that only helped contrast with this immensity of hair. I came back to myself when she wriggled a little and muttered something, froze up and walked away for awhile but saw that she was still fainting.
My dick was like a piece of cabbage and I even thought about sticking it in her mouthpiece. The sight of those fleshy lips protruding over the abundant hair made me numb. I forgot that she'd just woken up and stuck my tongue back into it again, couldn't believe it, girls with whom I had climbed had small shaved buttocks, which makes me compare my mother's cunt to an enormous chocolate cake, one you think of eating alone hidden from everyone, at this moment lust and gluttony looked alike.
I pulled out my cane, lowered my panties to the middle of her thighs, she didn't wake up and started punching myself looking at his face and that saxophone he was playing.
It was hard even to get her dressed before I tried to take her to bed, couldn't leave her there with my legs spread wide open and my panties down. She left the room feeling badly that something wasn't quite right and I knew it; after enjoying a glimpse of her bouquet she seemed totally distorted, disgusted by me, herself, what she had done. This feeling eaten away at me for days or weeks but diminished over time. When I came back, she was still there in a deep sleep from the sedatives. So I shook her several times until it gave any sign that she would wake up... My mistake!
The next day, she mentioned in no uncertain terms that something had occurred to her last night and I swore to myself that I would never do such a thing again.
I started to masturbate all the time thinking about her, and took advantage of it by looking for moments when she was naked or even in underwear. She would show up at his room right after he came out from the bathroom always with some excuse, ask something, say something...I think that's where she began touching herself; made a malicious comment on an undies she had been wearing the other day; walked into her bedroom and she was taking off pants that didn't fit anymore - she got fatter since my dad left us last time. She asked me what I thought about a social kind of trousers that she almost never wore, and I said I didn't know which one I was talking about. That bought time; she just went in her underwear to pick it up. When she put them on, they were really too tight, but honestly my goal had been to see her as long as possible without pants. In the interim I commented that actually the problem was with the big ugly panties. I said this in the most natural way I could get away with, but still words came reluctantly out, she only replied there was nothing wrong with the panties, so I kept insisting and then things got weird. It falls into the nonsense of saying exactly this: The lady has to put on a smaller panties, which marks well her ass, that comes in a little and highlights your pussy!Our one, it seemed like an iceberg had invaded the room! we were silent. She quickly put on pants and asked me to leave because she had to finish getting ready.
There I thought that had buried me for good, was afraid that she might have some flash of the night when it was bolinked by me, to start suspecting my going to his room, anyway ... more time sauce.
I had to give her a chance that she was dressed or not, and my first poop came when I decided to disrespect it. It's been more than two months since that night.
I cursed that inconvenient jeans, with her weight, the tight clothes, it wouldn't be easy to play. The way out was a small hut claiming that those medicines were killing her and then she would spend all next day complaining of body pain from sleeping on the couch. We had argued before because I did not like receiving friends at home with her sprawled on the sofa. She said my colleague would go home so she could touch herself and get into bed. She was already babbling instead of talking, so I practically carried her into the bedroom and decided to sink my foot in the mud that night.
I sat her down on the bed and without thinking twice, went from behind and ripped off her blouse. She was still awake but no longer conscious. Seized an opportunity and put my hands in her boobs, took it really, she said something that I didn't understand. Lashed her up and walked to the front, pulled out her shoes, unbuttoned her pants and dragged her downstairs. She stretched herself with only panties and a bra, did not want to go deeper right away. Spent some more time in the living room and returned to the bedroom when she had definitely embarked into the world of dreams. It was the big night. I ripped off her bra and panties, delighted myself in her... this time taking all my clothes off as well but not penetrating it for fear of hurting her.
Several times she mentioned waking up, except that unlike the first time I didn't mind and even thought it was a good situation to penetrate her. So I went into the kitchen, got some oil and came back, licked my fingers with the viscous fluid and stuffed myself in her mouthpiece, licking her clitoris, giving little kisses on her nipples, going so far as rubbing the head of my stick against her mouth.
At a certain moment, I turned her on my stomach and opened her legs wide. There he was, that wonderful button with its tight folds. No doubt about it, I lay down in the middle of his legs and passed my tongue from lips to butt without being ashamed to speak, licked her own ass and kissed him too; once again she gave some blows and closed her legs. As I couldn't take any more, I knelt between her legs and did the old punch ritual, but this time I got there and put my stick through her arse while stabbing myself. Enjoying herself on her bottom.
I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself up with toilet paper and then came back into my room, wiped down her folds.
She questioned the fact that I had woken up naked and replied that when I took her to bed, I removed her clothes so she could sleep well but couldn't get by with my sweater on. She told me there was no need to take them off as she had become accustomed to sleeping like this much less taking off her panties and bra; I remained silent. The same day I found out that if she didn't know or at least suspected something had happened that night. She surrounded me a few times in conversation about having had a very restless sleep and finally asked whether I had "moved" around her somehow while she slept.
At the time, I thought about hiding or denying it all but got caught in the middle and wanted to know what she meant by having "melted" on her.
I don't know what came over me, but I let it be known that I had touched her a few times and enjoyed the sight of my own mother naked in front of me. She turned purple, green, blue, yellow -- she looked like a rainbow, jokingly, but didn't say another word about it, which is when I found out she did not know how to deal with this situation, which could have been reversed for me.
This story is a bit long, so I'll stop here and write the second part again soon. I know that many people may not like this beginning, but when I started to tell what happens between me and my mother, I wanted to do it from the start because otherwise it would be just another erotic tale invented in a moment of excitement. Those who want to correspond with me can send me an email photographer_amateur_sp@hotmail.com
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