Forever Incest: A Mom's Story

I slid on the sexy red cocktail dress, applied a darker shade of lipstick, and took stock in the mirror. I looked pretty good, if I did say so myself, but the office ponytail wasn't going to cut it. I removed the band, bent deep at the waist and with my head basically upside down, shook my head vigorously to loosen the hair. Standing up and looking in the mirror again, I used my fingers to do a rough comb out. I reached out for the hairbrush on my dresser, but then stopped. I'm fortunate in that my hair is both straight and fairly thick, so flyaways are not a major problem. In fact, the first thing that came to mind as I looked at the horny wench in the mirror, is that she had just put her dress back on after a good roll in the hay. Could there be a better hairdo for the pictures we were trying to take?

When I headed back to the front of the house. I found my son in the living room, talking on the phone and looking away from me. Suddenly desperate for his attention, I said, "Who are you talking to?"

He turned around and his eyes went wide as he saw me in the sexy dress, with whorishly painted lips, and my hair fluffed out, and he gave me the exact reaction I was hoping for when he stammered out, "A-a-aunt Gloria."

"Let me talk to her," I said, sauntering over to my son whose mouth had dropped open like one of those cartoon characters in Looney Tunes. As I took the phone I was hit by a sudden realization that what I was doing by teasing my son was so wrong and I should stop this before it went any further. "Hey, sis, I'm not so sure I'm ready for this."

My sister, after a dramatic sigh, said with utter annoyance, "Jesus, Hannah, we already had this conversation. You need to get back out there. You need to get fucked."

"Gloria," I said, as I looked at my son who was in earshot and turned away as soon as I looked at him.

I moved away from my son, as Gloria stressed, "I'm serious, if you don't get some photos done, I will choose ones from when we were in Mexico. This profile is going up with or without your help."

"Fine," I sighed, knowing there were some skimpy bikini photos taken that trip as she'd convinced me to wear things that drew a lot of attention to me. "But the red dress is a little too much."

"I think you look beautiful in it," my son said, unable to hear Gloria's words, but able to hear everything I said.

"You do?" I asked, turning around and noticing his attention was on my legs and he had likely noticed the sexy seam down the back of my shiny, silky, sheer stockings.

"Of course he does," Gloria said in my ear, evidently able to hear Jeremy's words.

My son continued to flatter me with compliments. "As I told you before Mom, you are absolutely beautiful and in that dress you are stunning." I could see his erect dick poking against his sweats, jauntily testifying to his truthfulness.

"He wants to fuck you," Gloria said.

"Sorry, what?" I asked, shocked by how she could sense my son's erection though we weren't on a video call.

"He wants to fuck you," my sister repeated.

Trying to act casual to my son as I processed my sister's words, my son's erection, and the wetness leaking into my thong, I fake-answered a question Gloria hadn't asked. "Oh, my son just said I look stunning, isn't that sweet?" Though not as sweet as the tent in his sweatpants.

"Do the pics, be sexy and you know, let loose and have fun," Gloria said.

"Yes, yes, fine, I'll do it," I responded, even as I looked at my handsome son who I was now positive would indeed fuck me if I allowed him to. "You're right, I do need to get out there."

"Good, slut it up a little, show some skin and dress up as if you were going to get laid tonight," my sister continued. "Make Jeremy's big dick throb."

"Okay, bye," I said, wondering how she knew my son had a big dick since I was just getting a clue myself. Completely flustered, completely horny, I handed my son back his phone. Bringing back the question from when I first entered the room, I asked, "What were you two talking about?"

As he answered, he seemed to be appraising me. "She was giving me instructions on what she wanted for the pictures and for me to take charge."

"Of course, she did," I sighed, imagining the outrageous bullshit she might have said to my son. I shook my head and smiled, amused by the entire situation while deciding to play along and see if my son had a dominant side to him. "Well, tell me how you want me."

"W-w-what?" he stammered, obviously surprised by my words and playful tone.

I asked, my hands on my hips, "How do you want me to pose, where do you want to take the photos?"

"Oh, right, right," he nodded, as he shook his head and I wondered what he was thinking.

Using a sexy, playful, mischievous tone, one that used to lead to me getting fucked hard and dominated by a strong-willed stud, "I am supposed to do as I'm told, am I not?"

He nodded, not as rattled or surprised as I'd suspected he would be. "According to your sister you are to do just that."

"Okay, tell me what you want," I said, leaning back against the tall counter that stood between living room and kitchen. I sipped from the drink in my hand, willing him to take control, to be the man, perhaps to even push me across the invisible line I was mentally moving towards. To help things along, I teased him further by wiggling my toes, which drew his eyes as expected. I then repeated a move he'd requested earlier and began running the sole of one foot up and down the shin of my other leg. His gaze followed like a bird watching a dancing cobra.

His camera seemed to come up of its own accord. "I love that image," he said dreamily.

"Really?" I asked, although I already knew he liked it. It did feel pretty good, I had to say.

"Yes, it's just so unconscious and natural." When his camera finally came up to my face, he obviously saw me staring straight into the lens. He brought the camera down, then snatched up the TV remote from the coffee table and turned on the flatscreen. Some news program came up, but I could see the mute symbol in the lower corner of the screen.

"I know you're anxious about what's happening here but go ahead and just watch the TV and pretend I'm not here."

"Okay," I agreed, acting like I wasn't being the center of a photo shoot as I took a sip of my drink... a little more liquid courage to commit the sin of sins I was pondering. The camera started clicking again.

A minute or two later, after he'd moved around me and quite a few photos were taken, he instructed, "Now, go sit on the couch and stretch your legs on the table."

"Okay," I obeyed, just doing as I was told... getting a rush at the simple obedience.

I sat down, placed my legs on the table and inadvertently, at least at first, allowed my dress to ride up my leg and reveal the top of my lace top stockings. I noticed he could see my stocking top as he ordered, even as it was obvious he was staring at them, "Keep watching the TV."

"Okay," I said, as I looked at my son and directly at his crotch.

"That isn't watching the TV," he pointed out.

"Sorry, it's just hard to fake-watch the TV." When looking at your swelling crotch is so much more interesting, I added to myself.

"I know, it is, but the more natural you are the more authentic you will look for your many soon to be suitors," he said, as he moved beside the television to get a different angle of me and a very good view of my sexy stocking tops.

"Many suitors," I laughed, thinking at the moment the only suitor I wanted was just a few feet away from me.

He literally scolded me, as he said, "No, insecure crap, you're hot, Mom. Use that. Be confident. Be sexy. Be your true sensual self."

"Oh, honey, your words are so sweet and I did use to feel all those things, before... but it's been so long and it's so hard to really feel..."

"Feel what?" he asked, as he openly admired my entire body.

"Sexy," I whispered, having not felt sexy and wanted since my ex-husband's betrayal.

"Mom, you are sexy," he repeated, then added as he looked at my long legs stretched out before him, "Hot, sensual, sexy."

"Oh, honey," I said, my heart warming as my pussy was burning.

He said, "I'm sorry if my words are inappropriate, Mom, but I can't sit quietly while you lose your self-confidence. You are beautiful and it's time to get you out there."

"Oh, honey that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard," I said, a little flustered; not because of his compliments, but because his words indicated that he wanted me out there... and not for his own.

"Today we get your confidence back," he said and instructed, "Now, don't look at me, watch the television."

"Okay," I nodded, as he put the camera back to his face.

He took a lot of pictures and was definitely taking photos of my feet and especially the soles... clearly obsessed and turned on by stocking-clad feet.

"Now look directly at me," he said.

I did and he snapped more photos of me.

"Perfect," he nodded, before saying, "I think there is one more pose that would look great."

"Whatever you say," I said. I'd suddenly determined to get him to change his mind about getting me 'out there' and felt the best way to get him to keep me 'in here' was to expose and indulge my true submissive nature. "I'm kind of having fun just doing as you tell me."

He joked, with a smile, "Well, then I may take photos of you all night."

I shrugged, "Whatever it takes. If I don't have a few good pics for the profile page I will never hear the end of it from Gloria."

"That I believe," he said, walking to me and offering his hand... a sweet, simple move that also could lead to more.

"You are such a gentleman," I smiled, taking his hand.

"It's how I was raised by a kind, generous, lovely woman."

His hand and words were warm and comforting and I knew my son was already well able to treat me like a queen as I wished. But now it was time to see if he could satisfy the other half of my personality. "Well now, what is the next pose? Is it another sexy one?"

"I was thinking sitting on the bar stool," he suggested.

"Interesting," I said, letting go of his hand and thinking I could use another drink. "I should probably have a full cocktail then."

"Why not?"

"Exactly, why not," I agreed with a smile. I walked to the kitchen as he said, "Are these different nylons than you were wearing earlier?"

"You noticed. They are, good eye," I said, looking back at him with what I hoped was a seductive smile.

"It's my job as a photographer to notice every little detail," he said, brazenly admiring his mom's legs as he complimented, "They definitely add to the sexy outfit."

"Thank you," I smiled, liking the attention to my legs, "Did you notice any other little details?"

"Well, these nylons have a seam down the back," he pointed out, again looking right at my seamed stockings.

"Yes, I'm not sure why I changed from one pair to another," I said, even though I knew exactly why. "Actually," I admitted, "it's because my sister told me to."

"She told you to?" he asked.

"Yes, her exact words were, 'Dress up as if you were going to get laid tonight'," I said, deciding to just be blunt in my conversation. I then apologized, even though I didn't really mean it, as I planted seeds for a sinful seduction I was seriously considering. "Sorry, that is likely too much information about your mother."

"We are both adults. I like being able to share things with you."

"Good, because we only have each other and I am enjoying this freeing conversation," I said, as I poured myself another drink, but made it rather weak this time.

"Me too," he agreed before he adorably brought the conversation back to his obsession. "So, you wear pantyhose with seams down them when you want to have sex?"

"Not exactly," I said, being brazen with my next action as I lifted up my dress to show him my stockings were held up by a garter. Now, yes, I knew he already knew I was wearing stockings, but wasn't sure he'd seen how they were connected to the garter belt's suspenders. Since I was still slowly pushing my flirtation and temptation, I wanted to be certain he had the whole picture. "But I do wear thigh highs or stockings and a garter-belt when I do."

I paused and held the Victoria's Secret catalogue pose for him for a moment before adding, "At least I used to for your father. He insisted I always be in nylons for him."

"Insisted?" he questioned, as he stared very clearly at where the garter-belts held up my stockings.

"Insisted," I replied, pausing partly for dramatic effect and partly to give him an opening to do some insisting of his own... but he didn't bite, instead returning to his stocking obsession.

He laughed somewhat awkwardly, "Well, I guess that is where I got that fetish."

"Or perhaps it was from seeing your mother in them almost every day of your life," I suggested knowing his nylon fetish was likely based on me as I dropped my dress back down to hide my sexy lingerie.

"Well, I have definitely noticed that you wear them all the time," he bravely responded, as our frankness continued.

I sat on the bar stool and stretched my leg as if daring him not to stare. I then let him know I know he checks out my legs by saying, "I know you have."

"You do?" he asked, shocked by this even as he admired my long nylon-clad leg.

"Yes, I notice you sometimes staring or taking quick glances at my legs and feet," I admitted and then smiled and added playfully, "you're not that good a spy."

"Sorry, it's probably pretty creepy to have a son who gets turned on by his mother's legs and feet," he said, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, honey," I said, wanting to let him know it was okay and I kind of liked it, as I placed one foot on the bar stool footrest, while crossing my other leg. "I wasn't complaining. Truth be told, it's kind of flattering."

"It is?" he asked, glancing down to my toes on the bar stool.

"Of course, every woman wants to be seen as desirable," I said, feeling desirable for the first time in a couple of years.

As I said that and wiggled my toes ever so slightly, I saw my son adjust his penis in his sweats. I asked, "Is that because of me?"

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't," he said a little sheepishly.

Just brazenly throwing it out there, speaking before really thinking, my libido beginning to control my mind, I blurted, "Well, if you weren't my son, I would take care of that for you."

My surprising words were countered with his own surprising words, equally brazen as well. "If you weren't my mom, I would make sure you were always sexually satisfied and got exactly what you wanted."

After we both said what we said there was an awkward silence. I realized that between the whiskey and the pent-up horniness I had said too much and finally broke the silence, suggesting, "Well, you should take the photos."

"Uh, yeah, right," he nodded as he shook his head ever so slightly as he pulled the camera back up and snapped a few photos.

Feeling sexy and wanting to continue the vibe, I asked, as I extended one leg high in the air, so my entire stocking and clasps were in view, "How about this?"

"A little risqué, but hot," he said, eagerly snapping more photos.

When he lowered the camera a moment and I saw the look of lust in his eyes, it really made me get into the whole naughty photoshoot scene. "Or, how about this one?" I asked, as I lifted both legs up together, putting the bottoms of my nylon-clad feet almost directly in his face. I didn't know if it was just legs, foot tops, and toes that excited him, or if silky soles did too. His asshole father used to love fucking my silky soles and coming on them.

"Perfect," he mumbled as he focused on my feet and took a lot of photos.

Getting a rush of adrenaline as I could see my son's hard dick poking out, I kept making my own sexy poses, finally pulling my feet up to the chair and wrapping my arms around my bent legs as I smiled as sexily as I thought I could. I asked, "And how about this one?"

"That's a very sweet one."

"Mmmmmmm," I purred, perhaps a little too sexually.

As he seemed to be admiring my body, he asked, "How risqué are you willing to go?"

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, this position a little wobbly and so I moved my feet back to the bar footrest.

"Well, I think it would be super sexy to have you stand, put one foot on the footrest and adjust your stocking," he said.

Figuring why not, this wasn't too provocative while being quite sexy, I asked, pushing the envelope a little more to the taboo, "Is this for my profile page or for you?"

His eyes went a little wide with shock, but then he shocked me right back. "Well, I think it might be a little too hot for eHarmony or Hinge, but according to Aunt Gloria I'm supposed to take some provocative pics for your Tinder account."

"My what?"

"Your Tinder account. According to Aunt Gloria you haven't been laid since Dad left," he bluntly said, he too getting close to an invisible line.

"I'm going to kill her," I said, even though I wasn't really mad, thinking that was likely pretty obvious to my astute son.

Jeremy defended my sister and continued the discussion with words that were rather too blunt for a mother. "Don't get mad at her, she's just looking out for you. While you deserve a relationship with a man who loves you as much as I love you, you first need, according to Aunt Gloria, to get fucked bloody senseless."

"Oh my God!" I gasped, this time quite shocked, even though I did indeed need to get fucked senseless. The question was: Was I willing to allow the man currently in my house be the one to fuck me senseless?

"Sorry, I went too far. I just hate that Dad has killed your confidence and I feel you deserve a man who loves you and would do anything for you like I would," he said, showing me again how sensitive he could be with me.

"Oh, honey," I said, pulling my foot off the footrest and walking over to him. I pulled him into a hug and said, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mom," he said.

"And you and Gloria are right," I said, looking into my son's eyes. "Fuck him. Fuck him. I deserve so much better."

"Exactly."

I said, starting a sentence and then purposely stopping it, "I do deserve a man who treats me like a queen and also a...."

"A what?" he asked, getting drawn in just like I wanted him to.

"Um, never mind, I've said too much," I said, pretending to be embarrassed and uncomfortable... it was pretty good acting on my part.

"No, I insist you tell me," he said, with a little authority.

"Is that an order?" I coyly responded, hopefully making it obvious I liked being told what to do.

"Yes, Mom, that is an order," he sternly answered.

I began to explain, letting him know exactly the two different sides of me, "Well, your father always treated me like a queen in public, but in the bedroom..."

"But in the bedroom, what?"

"You sure you want to know about your mother's needs in the bedroom?" I questioned, again rather playfully, already knowing the answer. "I mean, maybe that's giving a little too much detail."

"Yes, I want to know," he said. Then, again showing the kind of authority, of manly strength that made my pussy dampen, he added, "I'm the man of the house now and need to know what you need to be happy."

I paused, impressed, turned on, and questioning myself one last time whether I should continue to walk this fine line, before I simply said, even as I glanced down to his hidden dick, "Okay, I like to be treated like a queen in public but a submissive slut in the bedroom."

"I see," he nodded, obviously trying to appear unfazed by my revelation, while the bobbing bulge in his sweatpants gave him away.

"Sorry, you must be disgusted by your mother," I said, knowing he was anything but.

He confirmed what I assumed, when he said, "The opposite, Mom, I think it's hot."