Incest stories, mom and son nothing’s wrong.. “It’s been a great night,” I said to myself, “a really good night, and I’m just about ready for bed.”
It was one thirty a.m. my sister, my brother and their families had left before midnight as they had small kids to consider, and the last of the guests for my father’s forty sixth birthday celebrations had left a half an hour ago, leaving the back garden looking like a bomb had hit it. I’d spent the past fifteen minutes picking up the rubbish, and was now almost finished.
I picked up the last half eaten plate of food, threw the scraps on the lawn saying, “that’s for you Bozo, and it’s all you’re getting tomorrow since you’ve eaten enough for four dogs tonight.”
Bozo raised his head, showing only mild interest in whatever it was that I’d thrown onto the ground, before falling back down and starting the process of going back to sleep. What a difference to the attack dog that he normally was, who from the first scent of food treated anyone trying to eat it as his sworn enemy, even knocking over a young boy tonight who’d had the audacity to think that the sausage in his hand, was actually his.
Bozo was a Labrador who despite our attempts to put him on diet still seemed to get fatter every day. Now, he just couldn’t even be bothered getting up to look at what it was that had fallen into what was nominally his exclusive territory. Anything that fell into it was his, animal, vegetable or mineral, it didn’t matter to him, he had his reputation to defend, so he’d make a very serious attempt to eat it, or at least bury it
I turned off the outside lights, closed the patio door and the curtains, then turned to see my mother with her elbows on the bench top, her face in her hands, and her eyes closed. She’d had just a little too much to drink, she wasn’t drunk, but she was what you might call, ‘relaxed and mellow.’
I looked across into the lounge room to see the birthday boy asleep on the couch. He was super relaxed and more than just mellow, he’d had more to drink than he should have. He was drunk, and likely to stay on the couch for the next few hours.
Richard Angus Martin the Third, known when he was in the good books as Richard The Third, and when he wasn’t, as Richard The Turd. Mostly he was called Richard The Turd, or simply just, The Turd, and he’d managed to wipe himself out, again.
I looked back at Mum, who still hadn’t opened her eyes, went to the bench top facing her, put my elbows onto it, and softly placed my forehead against hers. She opened her eyes slowly, pulled back to allow them to focus properly, and then seeing that it was me, smiled and returned her forehead to be against mine before closing her eyes again.
What she hadn’t realised was that as she’d moved away from me, I’d put my hands onto her forearms, so that when she’d moved back, her breasts had landed nicely on top of the backs of my hands, she didn’t notice.
“Been a good night Ma.”
“Mmmm, it certainly has, where’s Richard The Turd?”
“Passed out on the couch.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“He won’t annoy me.”
“Doing what?”
“He thinks because it’s his birthday, that he’s going to get sex, but I really am too tired tonight. Normally I’d be good to go, but this party has taken so much to organise, it’s drained me.” Still with her forehead against mine she yawned to prove the point.
“So do you want me to turn everything off so that you can go to bed now?”
“Yes please hun, give your old Mum a goodnight kiss, and I’ll shuffle off.” For all of this time, I’d been quite enjoying the feelings of her nice heavy breasts on my hands. Mum had quite a pretty face, but the thing that attracted men to her was her body, nicely shaped solid breasts, envious women might say they were a little too big, but what would they know? She also had a really tight arse, and killer legs, that is if their eyes got that far south.
Mum inclined her head to the left and my lips lightly brushed against hers, she mustn’t have felt the kiss as she stayed in the same position waiting. So I moved my mouth back onto hers and kissed her again, a little harder this time.
I’d kissed her many times before, but for the first time ever I noticed how soft her lips were. Mum made no attempt to move her mouth away from mine, so I continued to kiss her. After about ten seconds of this, her lips started to move as she responded to mine on them.
Another ten seconds later they were still pressing against mine, neither of us made any attempt to involve the tongue, it was just the lips. I wondered how long she’d allow this to go on for, as she seemed to be in no hurry to bring it to an end. It went on for what must have been at least a full minute when she realised what we were doing. Slowly she pulled her head back a fraction, so that I could still feel her breath against my mouth as she spoke. With her eyes only half opened she said, “this’s nice,” returned her lips to mine, closed her eyes, and recommenced the kiss.
The kiss was slow and languid, like launching a canoe into a slow flowing river that just drifted along at its very own pace through fields of flowers. There was no hurry with the river, and no hurry with our kiss.
It was about a minute later that she again moved back a few inches, “Where did you learn to kiss like that?” I again could feel her breath on my mouth.
I grinned, shrugged, and with a show of bravado said, “Oh I’ve been seeing an older woman for a little while now, she’s addicted to kissing, and if I don’t get it right the first time, well, she makes me do it over until I do.”
“Wow, an older woman, so who is she, do I know her?”
“That’s our secret, and of course a gentleman never tells.” The reason that I couldn’t tell her was that it was Jane Clarke who lived in the street behind us, and a few doors along. I wasn’t sure what Mums thoughts would be about that, as her husband was off in Antarctica studying penguins, or ice flow, or something like that.
Jane told me that he’d given her permission to be with someone else if she needed to, as she was always ready for sex. According to her anyway, he knew that she wouldn’t be able to go without it for the entire twelve months that he’d be away, and so him telling her not to, would have only been ignored anyway. From the first time that we were together, it was obvious that she was never going to be able to go that long without sex, and I actually convinced myself that I was doing something for him, as at least I wasn’t trying to take her from him permanently.
“Mmmm, you’ll have to introduce me to her, if she kisses that well, I might just try playing for the other team…where’s The Turd?”
“Unconscious, why?”
“You sure?”
I moved my head to see him, nodded yes at her, and moved my face back to be about two inches away from hers.
“Good,” and with that she moved her mouth forward the required two inches so that it once again reconnected with mine. This time she wanted to be in control so that she became much more aggressive, totally outside of the parameters of soft and sensual that had guided our first kisses.
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