Forever Incest: A Son's Story

"You really want to fuck your auntie's asshole, don't you?" she asked bluntly.

"Well, you took my other virginities," I pointed out, still in awe I got my first blow job, ate my first pussy, and had my first intercourse all with my hot aunt.

"Well then, I guess it's only fair that once you do what I'm asking you to do, that you come over and sodomize me with your fat cock," she wickedly said, talking so nasty in comparison with my sweet mother.

"Getting Mom to pose for these photos will be a little more challenging than taking the pics you requested for yourself," I pointed out.

"I can still see the look on your face when I suggested we take some more casual pictures and pulled off my dress to reveal I was in sexy lingerie."

"Yeah, I almost had a heart attack and jizzed in my pants simultaneously," I said, recalling the moment vividly.

"Well, you likely won't have the same happy ending with your mother," Gloria said. "Although, I bet you would fuck her in a heartbeat given the opportunity."

"Gloria," I gasped.

"What? Am I wrong?"

"I didn't say that," I playfully responded, knowing Gloria knew me well enough.

"So, are you going to do it?"

"Do what? Fuck my mother," I wickedly asked.

"Well, if you do get the chance, you slide that big, fat cock right into your mom's long-neglected pussy," she responded, not at all fazed by my incestuous words.

"You think she is as submissive as you are once a big, fat cock is before her?" I asked.

"First, I'm not submissive, I just like big dick and become a slut for it," she countered. "On the other hand, I know for a fact that your mom is very submissive."

"I see," I said, imagining having my own Mommy slut.

"So, you will get some sexy pictures of your hot, submissive mom?" she asked.

I had no idea how I was going to broach the topic with Mom but having gained massive confidence from getting fucked by my aunt, I cockily answered, "I'll do it. So expect to be full of dick up that pretty ass very soon."

If my dick had been hard before, now it was absolutely throbbing as I thought of my Aunt Gloria, who since that first time we'd had sex, had blown me in my bedroom while the family was over visiting, and fucked me at her shop in her office during her break... that time coming in her pussy. During those episodes she'd also indulged my nylon and foot fetishes and helped me understand that while my strong desires were not necessarily mainstream, there was also nothing wrong with them.

Yes, Aunt Gloria had turned me from a boy to man and it had rocketed my confidence. While shy before I fucked my aunt, I had since managed to talk to girls at my school without freezing up, which had led to me scoring twice with classmates so far. In fact, I'd even managed to line up Cindy Caldwell as my graduation prom date. Cindy was a super hot volleyball player I had crushed on since my freshman year.

"Good boy," she said, "and remember, a tight asshole framed by a garter belt and thigh-high stockings is awaiting your successful completion."

"How could I forget that?" I said, my cock raging in my sweats, which was going to be tough to conceal from my mother.

Speaking of my mother, she startled me when she asked, "Who are you talking to?"

I turned to see her in a red cocktail dress that took my breath away. She also still had on the nylons, making for the perfect ensemble. But it was the fine details that really changed her from Mom to MILF. Dark red lipstick that would leave a beautiful ring around the base of her lucky date's cock and tousled hair that looked like she might have already done more than that back in her bedroom. When I finally registered her question, I had trouble making my mouth work when I answered, "A-a-aunt Gloria."

"Let me talk to her," Mom said, walking over to me and taking the phone, both movements somehow sensuous. Then something suddenly shifted in her posture, and in her voice I heard doubt rather than confidence. "Hey, sis, I'm not so sure I'm ready for this."

I was close enough I could hear my aunt's response, "Jesus, Hannah, we already had this conversation. You need to get back out there. You need to get fucked."

"Gloria," Mom said, glancing towards me, and I turned my head away.

"I'm serious," Gloria continued, but Mom moved away from me and I couldn't hear my aunt's words any more, only my mom's.

"Fine," Mom said, "but the red dress is a little too much."

When she'd turned away from me, I'd immediately taken the opportunity to stare at Mom's behind, during which I noticed that she was not in the same nylons as before, as these had a seam running down the back of them. "I think you look beautiful in it," my voice speaking for my cock said about the red dress.

"You do?" Mom asked, turning around.

"As I told you before Mom, you are absolutely beautiful and in that dress you are stunning," I complimented. My completely erect dick was pointing right at her, but I thought trying to cover it would just make things more noticeable.

"Sorry, what?" Mom asked, her attention back to the phone although she did seem to glance down to my crotch area. "Oh, my son just said I look stunning, isn't that sweet?"

Mom listened again to her sister, then said, "Yes, yes, fine, I'll do it. You're right, I do need to get out there."

A moment later, "Okay, bye." She handed me the phone and asked, "What were you two talking about?"

I said, deciding it was a great time to plant a seed for the later naughtier pics I was expected to take, "She was giving me instructions on what she wanted for the pictures and for me to take charge."

"Of course, she did," she sighed, shaking her head. She then smiled and said, "Well, tell me how you want me."

"W-w-what?" I stammered, my mind going directly to the gutter.

"How do you want me to pose, where do you want to take the photos?" she asked.

"Oh, right, right," I said, shaking my head and getting back to the task at hand... as my cock flinched in my sweats.

"I am supposed to do as I'm told, am I not?" she asked, in a playful, mischievous, and completely confusing tone.

"According to your sister you are to do just that," I nodded.

"Okay, tell me what you want," she said, before slouching back against the dry bar, which left her hosiery-covered legs slanting towards me. My eyes naturally followed down their length and when those pretty, pink-painted toes began wiggling, I just knew there had to be a wet spot on the front of my sweats.

When she began rubbing the sole of her right foot up and down her left shin, I thought I was going to jizz myself.

"I love that image," I said as I found myself gazing at the wonder of her feet through my viewfinder.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes, it's just so unconscious and natural." I began tilting the lens up her legs and then across the hot, red dress until I got to her beautiful face, where I found her eyes burning holes in mine. While some POV shots had their place, I tended to find a model looking right at the lens as fake and contrived. I dropped the lens down, looked around and picked up the TV remote from the coffee table. I turned on the set and hit the mute button, it didn't matter what was on.

"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," she said, as she lifted her drink to her lips. When her eyes shifted to the screen, I resumed snapping photos.

I snapped a good thirty pictures, of course including some of just her legs and feet for my personal collection, before I said, "Now, go sit on the couch and stretch your legs on the table."

"Okay," she said, not questioning it at all.

She sat down and moved her long legs onto the table which made my eyes go wide as from the position I was in her dress rode up a little and I learned she wasn't wearing pantyhose, but stockings... which, of course, made my cock flinch in my sweats. I took a couple quick photos before she noticed her exposure and covered the stocking tops before I instructed again, "Keep watching the TV."

"Okay," she said, glancing over to me.

"That isn't watching the TV," I said.

"Sorry, it's just hard to fake-watch the TV," she said.

"I know, it is," I nodded, as I walked over until I was beside the television, "but the more natural you are the more authentic you will look for your many soon to be suitors."

"Many suitors," she laughed.

"No, insecure crap," I scolded, "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?" I asked, as she paused.

"Sexy," she whispered, looking so insecure that it actually broke my heart.

"Mom, you are sexy," I said. "Hot, sensual, sexy."

"Oh, honey," she said, clearly flattered by my compliments and yet seemingly embarrassed too.

"I'm sorry if my words are inappropriate, Mom," I said, "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," she said, clearly flustered and flattered.

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

"Okay," she nodded.

I then snapped a couple dozen more pictures, including some close-ups of her silky soles... something I had very few shots of. I loved nylon-covered legs... I loved nylon-covered toes... and like the freak I am I also love nylon-covered soles and this was the best pose ever as her feet were crossed and I got great views of both of them.

"Now look directly at me," I said.

She did and I snapped photos of her from the waist up.

"Perfect," I said, before suggesting, "I think there is one more pose that would look great."

"Whatever you say," she said, giving me a subtle hint of flirtation. Or at least that's how I took it when she added, "I'm kind of having fun just doing as you tell me."

"Well, then I may take photos of you all night," I joked.

"Whatever it takes," she shrugged. "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," I said, walking to her and offering my hand.

"You are such a gentleman," she said, taking it.

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

"Well, now what is the next pose? Is it another sexy one?" she asked, her hand still holding mine.

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

"Interesting," she said, letting go of my hand. "I should probably have a full cocktail then."

"Why not?" I shrugged. I figured she wasn't drunk, but she was definitely tipsy and I hoped her liquid courage would make her more suggestible to my next few ideas.

"Exactly, why not," she smiled, walking into the kitchen and I took a couple quick pics from behind, admiring the sexy seams up her legs. Feeling a little brazen, Gloria having indeed grown my confidence, I asked, "Are these different nylons than you were wearing earlier?"

"You noticed. They are, good eye," she said, glancing back at me with a smile that made my stomach flip.

"It's my job as a photographer to notice every little detail," I said. "They definitely add to the sexy outfit."

"Thank you," she smiled, as she asked, as I followed her into the kitchen, "Did you notice any other little details."

"Well, these nylons have a seam down the back," I pointed out.

"Yes, I'm not sure why I changed from one pair to another," she said, before adding, "Actually, it's because my sister told me to."

"She told you to?"

"Yes, her exact words were, 'Dress up as if you were going to get laid tonight'," Mom said, surprising me with the frank talk. Realizing it herself, she added, "Sorry, that is likely too much information about your mother."

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

"Good, because we only have each other," she said, as she poured herself the new drink, "and I am enjoying this freeing conversation."

"Me too," I nodded, then wanting to keep the conversation about her nylons I asked, "So, you wear pantyhose with seams down them when you want to have sex?"

"Not exactly," she said, then lifted up her dress enough to show me her stockings were held up by a garter. I'd missed that detail when she'd teased me with just the tops of her stockings while sitting on the couch. "But I do wear thigh highs or stockings and a garter-belt when I do." She paused, allowing me to admire and stare at her full nylon-clad legs, The sight of the suspenders stretching across the naked skin of her thigh to up under the skirt turned the knob on my nylon obsession up to nine. It hit ten when she added, "At least I used to for your father. He insisted I always be in nylons for him."

"Insisted?" I asked, registering the further evidence of her submissive nature.

"Insisted," she repeated, looking like she wanted to say something else and yet refraining.

Although I was curious, I didn't want to push it yet, instead I kept the nylon talk going. "Well, I guess that is where I got that fetish," I joked, wanting to throw that out there.

"Or perhaps it was from seeing your mother in them almost every day of your life," she said, disappointing me by allowing her dress to drop back down.

"Well, I have definitely noticed that you wear them all the time," I admitted, liking how she kept setting me up to push the conversation where I wanted it to go.

"I know you have," she said, as she sat on the bar stool and really stretched out her leg, as if daring me to stare.

"You do?"

"Yes, I notice you sometimes staring or taking quick glances at my legs and feet," she said, "you're not that good a spy."

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

"Oh, honey," she said, as she placed one foot on the bar stool footrest while crossing her leg on the other, "I wasn't complaining. Truth be told, it's kind of flattering."

"It is?"

"Of course," she smiled, as I admired her legs so perfectly framed, "every woman wants to be seen as desirable."

I couldn't help it, my hard dick had been in an uncomfortable situation for some time now, and I had to adjust.

Noticing me do it, she asked, "Is that because of me?"

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't," I admitted.

"Well, if you weren't my son," she said bluntly and with a sexy tone, shocking me to my very core, "I would take care of that for you."

Not wanting this opportunity to slip by, I countered with, "If you weren't my mom, I would make sure you were always sexually satisfied and got exactly what you wanted."

Then there was silence. At least on the outside. On the inside I was freaking out that each of us had verbally said we found each other attractive and would love to fuck the other if circumstances were different.

"Well, you should take the photos," she said, ending the silence and halting our blunt honesty, though I hoped that halt was only temporary.

"Uh, yeah, right," I nodded, putting the camera to my eye and taking a few great shots... wondering if I had seriously fucked up with my bold talk. Her next move seemed to say I hadn't.

"How about this?" she asked, extending one leg way in the air which made the entire stocking viewable including the clasp holding it up.

"A little risqué, but hot," I said, even as I snapped a dozen quick photos.

She turned her body to me, lifted up both feet towards me, her silky, sheer soles on full display and asked, "Or how about this one?"

"Perfect," I said, snapping photo after photo.

She then moved her feet onto the seat of her stool, well the heels of her feet more accurately as her toes were still in full photographic view, and looked at me as she wrapped her arms around her bent legs. "And how about this one?"

"That's a very sweet one," I said.

"Mmmmmmm," she smiled warmly.

"How risqué are you willing to go?" I asked, as I admired her perfectly pedicured toes in a pose she had to know would make my cock ache.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, as she moved her feet back to the bar footrest.

"Well, I think it would be super sexy," I began, knowing this was getting close to a line, yet not really crossing it, "to have you stand, put one foot on the footrest and adjust your stocking."

She stood up and asked, even as she did exactly what I asked her to do, "Is this for my profile page or for you?"

I was surprised by her question, but as I snapped a plethora of pictures I responded, "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?" She asked.

"Your Tinder account," I repeated. "According to Aunt Gloria you haven't been laid since Dad left."

"I'm going to kill her," Mom said.

"Don't get mad at her," I said, seeing this getting rather precarious rather fast, "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!" she gasped at my words, straightening up, while still leaving her foot alluringly posed on the bar footrest.

"Sorry," I apologized, "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." I doubted the seeds I was planting would grow to fruition, but I was trying to hint I could be that man. The man to treat her like a queen and fuck her like a stud.

"Oh, honey," she said, sadly moving her foot down and walking to me and pulling me into an embrace, "I love you so much."

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

"And you and Gloria are right," Mom said. "Fuck him. Fuck him. I deserve so much better."

"Exactly," I agreed.

Mom continued, "I do deserve a man who treats me like a queen and also a...."

"A what?"

"Um, never mind, I've said too much," she said, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"No, I insist you tell me," I said.

"Is that an order?" she asked, shifting almost immediately to sexy and even seductive.

"Yes, Mom, that is an order," I confirmed, beginning to understand just how submissive she was and how I could perhaps manipulate this to get super sexy pics and maybe, just maybe, have sex with her.

"Well, your father always treated me like a queen in public," she explained, "but in the bedroom..."

She paused. I was unsure if this was for dramatic effect or discomfort in finishing the sentence. "But in the bedroom, what?"

"You sure you want to know about your mother's needs in the bedroom?" she asked. "I mean, maybe that's giving a little too much detail."

"Yes, I want to know," I said. "I'm the man of the house now and need to know what you need to be happy."

She looked at me.

I waited for a response.

"Okay," she said, looking down not so slyly at my crotch before she answered, "I like to be treated like a queen in public but a submissive slut in the bedroom."

"I see," I said, trying to not act shocked at all, while my cock raged from her direct look at my crotch.

"Sorry, you must be disgusted by your mother," she said.

"The opposite, Mom," I said. "I think it's hot."

"You do?" she asked.

"Yeah, like I said before, if you weren't my mom...."

"You would take me to my bedroom and fuck me like a cheap slut?" she asked in a sexy, playful tone and pose.

My eyes went wide. "I-I-I didn't mean that."

She turned around and ordered, "Unzip me."

"Really?" I asked, even as my hands went to the zipper. Clearly, Mom might be submissive, but she also wasn't shy about asking for what she wanted. It struck me that that was likely why a sexual submissive was still able to succeed in a high-pressure work environment like national politics. I bet that as long as she had an outlet for her craven desires in the bedroom, no one outside of it was going to be able to push her around.