“How, young man, do you happen to know such intimate things about their love life?”
“Uh . . . it’s a secret?”
This was the sort of thing that started my mom Danni to tickle me when I was a youngster, in order to get me to tell something. It usually worked because it was a game we played and I love teasing her so that she would do it. We always had lots of fun, though it was a bit of rough housing, and as I got older and bigger she did it less and less, because she no longer had the physical advantage. But as I had hoped, the phrase changed the mood and she reverted to the old strategy to get the secret out of me. She started to wiggle her fingers in the spots she knew I was vulnerable, and I tried to defend myself. We rolled around on the mattress for a few moments.
I came to realize that she didn’t have on anything underneath the robe, so her thighs and breast would flash the tantalizing view of her pale skin, furry patch and dark nipples. I couldn’t help the arousal the wrestling created in my groin and her belt began to loosen. I wasn’t the kid anymore and with the weight and strength of a male I soon pinned her beneath me, instead of her being above me like when I was a child. I was pressing my manhood into her middle and making no effort to conceal my body’s interest in her form.
“Mom, Shannon doesn’t get jealous of your occasional foray back into heterosexual encounters, does she.” It was a statement not a question and there was no denial either on Danni’s part. Her eyes got wide though, as she realized that I was hard and on top and male, and that I might just be more than hinting at an incestuous coupling. She looked up at me, not struggling any more, not making any come hither looks, but neither was she making any indication that what I might be driving at would be out of the question. Indeed, I knew from the show Shannon had arranged for me of her and Danni acting out the fantasy of Danni and I; that mom would very much consider the possibility of her son fucking her.
Yet she had always been a good and responsible mother, she said slowly, “Pete, I don’t think that that would be the solution to the issue of my dealing with being jealous of Susie and Shanni. Two wrongs don’t make a . . . I’m not saying that what Shanni and Susan did was . . . but you and I are . . . I’m . . .it would be . . . you really would like to?” It was like watching a locomotive slow down and then begin to back up, there was a lot of weight to stop and inertia to overcome, but the forces were powerful and steamy and when the wheels began to turn the other way, slipping at first then the direction was the exact opposite, even though on the same tracks.
Those tracks were the physical guides for the train which could run either way, like the ones with an engine at each end. Not to mangle the analogy, but right then I wanted to stoke her to full pressure and get my piston pumping and make her whistle blow! Mom was bumping her pelvis against my hips even as her mouth was saying, “No, no.” I put my lips to work silencing that protest as one hand finished the undoing of her belt tie and the other was cupping the side of her ribs, then sliding over her soft cushiony mammary. She was murmuring, “Baby, we can’t do this”, as she pulled my tee-shirt off over my head. “You’re my son . .” as Danni undid my buckle and pant’s button, then drew down the zipper, all the while whispering, “This can’t be happening . .”