Mom and son get very close, I’m a full-figured woman. It feels right for me, and I’m happy with it. My breasts just beg to be played with, and I use them to cushion and cuddle whichever of my lover’s body parts happen to nestle on or between them. My ass draws appreciative stares on the street, particularly when it’s squeezed into the very snug slacks or shorts that I wear to display it proudly.
I was 38 when I got divorced. After my 40-something husband chose to try life with his 20-something secretary, we sold our house and I moved, with our son Kevin, into a nice apartment. Kevin was 18 at the time.
Raising a teenager singlehandedly is never easy, but Kevin was wonderfully supportive and helpful in that difficult time when our lives were changing in every way. His help was welcome when I needed a man’s strength with something, but even more welcome were his conversation and companionship, his warm hugs and gentle kisses, and his shoulders to cry on. He was there emotionally with whatever I needed whenever I needed it. This was more than my husband had given me, and it was the main reason I loved Kevin so much.
The kisses I shared with Kevin were often more intimate than is “normal” between mothers and sons, but I didn’t believe that such shows of genuine affection could in some way be wrong. They weren’t incestuous, I convinced myself. They were just fun kisses. And I liked being treated like a woman by a young man I loved very much.
Kevin liked my sexy look and provocative teasing. He stared with hungry eyes when I wore revealing clothes, and gave me leering grins when he caught glimpses of me in just a bra and panties. He’d say things like, “Nice boobs, Mom”, or “I hope you know how great your ass looks when you wear those heels.” His rude remarks didn’t bother me. They were much-needed reassurances of my appeal to the male libido. I pretended to ignore them, but I loved them, and he knew I did.
I hadn’t had good sex for some time. The solitary games I played with my battery-powered toy collection didn’t keep me from missing the joys of a good hard fuck in the arms of a strong man.
I began fantasizing about having sex with my son. Sometimes my fantasies were about me seducing Kevin, and sometimes they were about Kevin seducing me, and sometimes they were about one of us forcing the other into having violent sex. Such thoughts were powerfully arousing fantasies, and very useful as aids to masturbation. But that was all they were — fantasies.
Kevin wasn’t a virgin when the events I’m about to describe happened. He’d had sex with more than one girl by the time he graduated from high school, but he complained that his girlfriends were disappointing partners because of their inexperience and lack of confidence regarding sex. Mature women had the qualities Kevin was looking for in a bedmate. But the only grown woman he’d fucked was the mother of a girl he was dating, and when the daughter found out about it his relationship with both of them came to a sudden end.
I was 43, and Kevin was 19, when something happened that changed our lives forever. My life as an incest mom began on that memorable day.
Kevin and I both had workweek jobs, but this was a Saturday and we’d been out shopping together. It was a chilly day, and I remember that I had on a bulky knit sweater and a pair of snugly tailored slacks.
We parked our car in our apartment building’s underground garage and walked to the basement elevator lobby, as always, to take the elevator up to our apartment floor. But on this day one of the two elevators in the building was temporarily closed for repairs. The one elevator car still in operation wasn’t keeping up with the demand for it. A small crowd of people were waiting impatiently for it in the elevator lobby. Walking up a whole lot of stairs, carrying loaded shopping bags, was unthinkable.
The car arrived and quickly filled to its capacity. I was surprised at how many people could fit into it. The passengers’ mild protests and squeals of nervous laughter were evidence both of their temporary discomfort and of the sense of fun they found in this forced intimacy with strangers.
Kevin and I chose to wait for the elevator’s next run, and several minutes later we were the first ones aboard. Again a small crowd of people had gathered to ride upstairs. Kevin went straight to a back corner of the car, to make as much room as possible for other passengers, and I followed him. Everyone turned to face the car doors, as elevator riders always do. More and more people squeezed in.
Everyone shuffled backwards in an attempt to make room for more passengers. I moved back until I could move no further. The back of the man standing in front of me was pressed against my front, and my back was pressed against Kevin’s front. As before, mild complaints and nervous giggles came from the passengers as they adjusted their positions to ease the crush of overcrowded bodies.
I half turned my head and said to Kevin, “Are you OK back there?”
“I’m fine”, he replied. “This is kinda cool.”
I laughed at my son’s ability to enjoy our predicament. And then it suddenly struck me that my ass, the ass Kevin had so often praised, was now his to take, so to speak. And I was, so to speak, boldly offering it to him.
The doors closed, the elevator started moving, and I quickly learned a few things about being in a very overcrowded moving elevator. First, the gentle rocking of the car makes the bodies of the passengers move against one another. Second, this involuntary massaging causes the passengers to become sexually aroused, giving the males erections which are noticeable to those in front of them. Third, people of both sexes will, once they get used to this pleasant contact, add to it with subtle deliberate movements of whatever parts of their bodies would most benefit from further stimulation.
I felt the unmistakable growth of my son’s cock, both in size and in hardness, against the stretched seat of my skintight slacks. I shifted my hips slightly, trying to avoid painfully crushing Kevin’s trapped penis by allowing it to nestle in the shallow crease that the pants provided between my ass cheeks. I immediately felt the muscular buttocks and legs of the man in front of me rubbing against my belly and thighs. The raw sexual atmosphere of the moment gripped me. I felt a sudden rush of warmth and moistness between my legs. I let my upper body relax backward against Kevin’s chest. My hair tumbled over his shoulder.
I felt something hard pressing against my belly. It was the wallet of the man in front of me, bulging out his hip pocket. I found that if I pushed my hips slightly forward I could actually position that hard bulge against my pussy mound. Of course this was a deliciously naughty thing to do, so of course I did it. And it felt very good. I boldly thrust my hips forward to let the man’s wallet probe my crotch, and secretly hoped he knew what I was doing. If this ride lasted long enough, I was sure I could have an orgasm humping that wallet. I remembered once hearing that “the size of a man’s bank account is a more powerful aphrodisiac than the size of his cock.” This man’s wallet was very well endowed.
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