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This is fiction – all characters are over 18. If you don’t like explicit incest, don’t read this.
I am a 40-year-old mother of two wonderful boys – Sam who is 18 and Ray who is 20. Both live at home because of the economy My husband died three years ago so it has been hard getting by. Having my boys around has helped me because up until recently I was unemployed. Finally landed a job across town as a housekeeper in a fancy hotel. The money is not great but better than nothing. Tips help but most guests don’t seem to believe in tips.
My name is Paula and I was raised as a Christian by a white family in the suburbs of Chicago. My parents were hard working Republicans and they made sure I had every benefit they could afford. They sent me to a private Missouri Synod high school, and they footed the bill for my university education in business administration but their biggest goal they had for me was to get married to a Christian man and raise good Christian kids and take care of our loving Christian home.
Everyone I knew was white and Protestant. Some of my father’s business acquaintances were Catholics and we did shop at a few Jewish owned small businesses. But where I grew up there were virtually no blacks or Hispanics, much less Muslims of any kind. My parents never spoke badly about other races and their religions, at least not around my brother, Timothy. Actually, they never mentioned those people at all.
I was blessed with more than my share of beauty. My big blue eyes, pert roundish nose, and my lips worked together quite nicely. I had alabaster skin without one blemish, not even a freckle. It was a bit of challenge growing up because I was one of those adolescents that matured early and fully. I had breasts at 12, which kept filling out until by my 18th year they were quite the attraction to boys and to men. The rest of me blossomed as well and before I knew hardly anything about sex, much less about men’s desires, I was going about my life with the breasts of Mimi Rogers and the curves of Sophia Loren. My mother taught me that a woman should always look her best, wear clothing that suits her frame, and always wear make up. I liked looking good and the attention boys gave me, but I was a good girl. I teased a little and made out with a few of them, but I did not have sex until I married Tony.
He was more openminded than my parents or me for that matter. He voted Democrat most the time, and I know he liked to drink with his buddies, and a few of them were black. He never brought friends home though. He explained he didn’t want his friends to corrupt my innocence. Our sex life was pretty good I think – we had sex 2 or 3 times a week. Tony seemed to enjoy himself at least. I didn’t have an orgasm until a good two years after he died, which I will tell you about later. But I was always happy if Tony was pleased with me.
My mother taught me that a good girl does whatever she can to satisfy her husband, in the bedroom, whether she received pleasure or not. She assured me that is why her marriage was so good, though I imagine she adjusted her opinion when she found out my father was sneaking around with her sister.
Tony preferred that I lay down or get on all fours and let him enter. There was no foreplay or even kissing. He never called it “making love.” When the mood hit him, he would say, “Paula, go to the bedroom. I want to fuck you.” He liked knowing he could put his cock anywhere. He never asked me if I wanted anal sex. That he wanted it was all that mattered to him – and, wanting to be a good wife, I gave it to him. Not only that, he required me to not move, even when he was hurting me quite a bit. “I just need you to take it,” he would say. “Just be still and take it.”
It was awful if I am to be truthful. Sometimes he would get on top of my face and slam his cock down my throat and make me gag and drool, but I didn’t move, not even when his cum streamed into me. As soon as he was done, he would get dressed and leave me. I was not allowed to move until after he left. He liked to look at his cum dripping out of me. Sometimes he covered my face with his cream. I felt dirty and used. But my mother was right. Tony was happy and good to me in all other respects. A good provider, kind, a good father. I figured being degraded for his pleasure was a small price to pay.
My boys had no clue about our sex life. All they saw and experienced was a happy marriage and loving parents. When Tony died, I was devastated. I thought my life was over or at least headed toward the dumpster. The boys were hit hard, too, and I think they struggled at their age to make the transition from teenagers to men without a father, and with a mother who, they imagined, had no help to offer them.
I didn’t think about sex at all after Tony died. Didn’t yearn for a man to be with. Didn’t even think to watch porn or read it or even think about the dirty things people do. I never even masturbated. I did pay attention to my appearance. I figured if my life was going to be depressing, I could at least look good. I had kartal escort bayan always worn a dress in the house and wore make-up when Tony was alive. I continued to do that. I was the kind of homemaker that would have made Donna Reid proud.
Each morning I showered, did my hair, spent a good half hour putting on make up in the bathroom dressed in a white bra and granny panties. Then I would choose a dress, button up cotton, and look in the floor length mirror to ensure it hung correctly. Then, I would wake up the boys and head downstairs to make breakfast.
Sam and Ray would stumble in their PJs or underwear a while later, their hair uncombed, still sleepy and more often than not, grumpy. I would smile and be cheerful, inquire about their day or what they did last night. I was being a good mom, but I don’t think they appreciated it all that much.
Both of my sons were tall and handsome. They had dropped out of school when Tony died to go to work but they didn’t make much money. They were good about supporting the household financially, but like Tony, they left cooking, cleaning, and laundry to me.
This morning at breakfast, Sam told Ray he broke up with some girl named Zena.
“Zena?” I looked at Sam. “That’s a different name.”
“It was a matter of time,” Ray said.
“Yeh, I guess.” Then to me, he added, “Zena is Greek, mother.”
“You guess? What does that mean?”
The boys looked at each other, then at me. “They weren’t captible, Mom,” Ray explained.
I was slow to figure out when to drop something. “How so?” I looked at Sam.
“It’s private.” Sam looked down.
“Mom, let it be.”
“What did I do?”
Sam got up and head upstairs.
Ray stayed. “He’s just upset.”
“That’s obvious. I just don’t know why you two shut me out.” I sat down, no longer sporting a smile.
Sam reached over and gave me hug. “It’s not about you, Mom.”
“Feels like it is.” I was pouting now.
Sam stood up and got a can of cola. He pulled up a chair next to me and said,”She won’t do something he really wants to do, Mom.”
“You mean like go out somewhere special?”
That’s when I started to cry. I didn’t want to, but that’s how I got when I was criticized.
Sam sighed. “Okay, Mom, you want the straight scoop?”
“Yes,” I sniffed.
“You won’t get mad at me or tell him I told you.”
“No.” I wiped my eyes. “I mean I won’t be mad. I won’t tell your brother, I promise. Just say it.”
“She won’t suck Ray’s cock, Mom.”
I hadn’t expected that and how it was said. It sounded dirty, but I figured a good girl would do that for her man. They should wait to have sex until they are married, but a man needs that or so I assumed. I glanced at my son. My eyes must have widened when I noticed the bulge in his shorts.
Sam blurted out, “Sorry, Mom. Really.”
“Poor Ray,” I whispered. To Sam, I smiled. “It’s ok. I have noticed how you get sometimes, you know, when you don’t think I am looking.”
“What did you say? About Ray?”
“I feel sorry for him. A mother wants only the best for her sons.”
Sam made no move to hide his erection. “Then you think Zena should…you know…suck his…”
“Sam!” I interrupted. The tone of my voice suprised me. “No need for that language. But yes, I think she should do that if she cares for your brother. but if she doesn’t, she shouldn’t be forced.”
Sam literally slapped his forehead. “Wow, Mom. You aren’t the…I mean…
“I am not a prude, if that is the word you are looking for. I was just brought up knowing that my role was to do what my men wanted.”
“Men? I thought Dad was the only man you ever were with that way.”
“Yes, but if I had had more than one in my life, I figure any man would expect that. Am I wrong?”
“Never thought about it, I guess. But I…” He paused and shifted in the chair. He was feeling the pressure in his crotch. When he adjusted himself, he actually reached under his shorts and tucked his penis down his leg. I could see the head peeking out.
I looked at Sam. “Am I? Isn’t that what you want?”
“I guess it is, if I am honest.”
I am pretty sure Sam knew I could see his cock, especially because I was staring at it. He didn’t seem to mind, and I couldn’t stop looking. That was a first for me.
“Do you think women should be subservient to all men in their lives?”
I didn’t hesitate. “I do, but women should be appreciated.”
“I agree. The reason why I ask is that, well, you seem that way with Ray and me.”
“A good mother takes care of her children, Sam.”
“Thanks, Mom. You do that very well, but…”
“But what?” I couldn’t believe it; his cock had extended further from his shorts. I could see half of it now. It did strike me that what was happening was not normal. Sons don’t sit in front of their mothers with their erect penises on display. I admit to feeling uncomfortable, but I wasn’t having any improper feelings escort maltepe toward my son. I wasn’t aroused, but I was impressed with his size. Tony was big, and I know size matters especially to men, so I was happy for Sam.
“I mean, as we get older, our needs change is all. There are things a mother can’t help out with or shouldn’t.”
“Oh? Such as?”
“It’s why we have girlfriends, Mom.”
“I want to help you, Sam. There are no bounds to my love for you and your brother.”
“Go ahead, I will listen and not judge.”
“Can I show you?
I wasn’t sure what he meant but I nodded. “Sure.”
Sam stood up, pulled down his shorts and his cock shot out, hard and long, in my direction.
I gasped. I smoothed my dress down my legs. “Does that…I mean, does it hurt being that way?”
“More like an aching, mother.”
“I can imagine.”
He didn’t move, made no attempt to hide his erection.
“Is your brother like that. You know, big like you?”
Sam nodded. “I think he is bigger.”
“Oh,” I squeaked.
“Can you help out with this?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you wanted to help, and I said somethings mothers can’t or shouldn’t do.”
“Yes, I do and yes, you are right, but I would like to think there is some way I can support you – and your brother, too if needs be.”
“Perhaps, but whatever you might do to be a supportive mother, you aren’t going to do what we would want a girlfriend to do, are you?”
I began crying again. I shook my head no.
“Well that’s the help I need, mother. I don’t think you want to provide what I need.”
I looked up at Sam. “I do want to, but some things are wrong.”
Sam laughed. “Well, I told you there are needs you won’t help with, but you kept nagging me to tell you.”
“I wasn’t nagging, but I get your point. But it’s not that I won’t help because I don’t care about you.”
“What is it then?”
“I can’t. I am your mother. It would be sinful. I gave you birth…”
Sam sat down. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
I felt like I was in that old series, The Outer Limits. I was staring at my son’s very large penis. He was naked. I was in my house dress. I was sure my mascara had run. What on earth was happening and why wasn’t I upset about all of this. What mother sits and stares at her son’s penis in the kitchen? Or anywhere, for that matter.
Sam continued. “But you like to see this way?”
I was speechless. I did like it but didn’t like to see him suffer.
“Would it be wrong for you to watch me?”
I scrunched up my face and said, “What do you mean?”
Sam started to touch himself. “I mean, watch me do this.”
I focused on his hand as it wrapped itself around his cock and began stroking up and down. His other hand slid down his stomach and began cupping and tugging on his testicles. I looked at Sam and opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I said nothing, my eyes glued on him.
Sam stood up and stepped toward me. He was stroking it hard and fast. I knew he was close. He was going to make a mess. I sat way back in my chair and tilted my head back, but not so far that I couldn’t watch the grimace on his face when his penis began shooting cream every which way. He shot all over my dress and I felt a few drops splash against my neck.
“My.” I whispered.
There was a strand hanging from the tip of his penis. I lifted the body of skirt up and dabbed it off. It never dawned on me that Sam might see up my dress.
I knew things would be very awkward now. “Go clean up now. Use the shower downstairs. We don’t want your brother seeing you like this, now do we.
Sam turned to go. “I hope that was okay to do.”
“It was unexpected.”
He was nearly out of the kitchen, when these words left my mouth: “I am here to help.”
Sam looked at me from the doorway. “Can I ask a question?”
“Think about what just happened and ask yourself two questions. Would you do this again?” He paused and looked at me and smiled. “I liked it, Mother.”
“I will think about it. And the second question?”
“Well, if you decide it is okay to watch me and I guess my brother if he is interested, would it be okay to watch you?”
“Watch me do what?”
“I guess I mean, dress differently at least. You know, wear more revealing clothes, maybe allow us a few peeks now and again.”
“I see.” Sam was asking me if I would be eye candy for my sons. That had never crossed my mind, but now it was. I smiled at Sam. I will think about that, too. I promise.”
After Sam left, I wiped his cream off of my dress and patted the stains with warm water. I walked upstairs to my bedroom and slipped out of my clothes. I even took off my bra and panties and sat down on the edge of the bed, running all that had happened through my mind. I liked the look on Sam’s face when he orgasmed. He looked so intense and then moments later a peaceful look washed over his pendik escort face. I had helped him with his problem, and that felt good.
I knew most people would think we went way too far, and part of me agreed. We had crossed a line or two, but we had not done anything close to committing incest. Would I do it again? At the moment I didn’t know. My mind did drift a bit to Sam’s second question. I didn’t really have any revealing clothes of any kind, though I did remind myself that nearly all of dresses had buttons and could easily have the hemline raised.
We had a rule in our house. If our bedroom doors were shut, knocking was a must. If the door were open, we could walk right in. In my hurry to get out of my dress, I had left my door ajar. I had just gotten up to look for a new dress when Ray walked in talking about going for a run.
When he saw me, his mouth dropped. “Oh, sorry, Mom.”
I criss-crossed my hands over my pussy, but my breasts were in full view. I looked at Ray and there it was again – a bulge. Seeing me this way had caused that. I blushed as Sam hurried out the door. My embarrassment subsided as I slipped into a sundress. While I explored how many buttons to leave open, I realized why Sam had asked me his second question. He actually wanted me to dress in ways that aroused him. Apparently, it would arouse his brother too.
What a beginning to a Saturday! It was half past noon now. The whole day was a head of us and to be honest I wondered if this morning’s experience would make things weird for the remainder of the weekend. I heard Sam walk past my room – I had closed my door by now – and knew he would be getting dressed, but what then? Would he go out and leave me here on my own?
I didn’t want to be alone, not after what had happened. I remembered how often I felt used by Tony and unhappy when he just left me after he got what he wanted. My boys needed to know women don’t like that. I stood in front of the mirror. Three of my buttons were undone and my ample breasts were offering a fair amount of cleavage. I unbuttoned one more and was suprised to see the upper rim of my areola showing. I decided three buttons was sufficient, at least to start. The dress fell to a couple of inches above my knees, likely the shortest dress I owned. I pulled up on it to mid thigh and then higher, turning around to take in the full effect. It struck me that I looked good dressed like this. My body felt good, too. Much to my suprise I felt a dampness between my legs; that made me blush and it wasn’t until I was downstairs in the kitchen cleaning up that my face resumed its natural colour.
While I was loading the dishwasher, Sam passed by. “Going for a smoke, Mom.”
“Okay dear,” I said.
It took me a good 30 minutes to clean up everything. Sam had not returned, so I opened the front door to find Sam and Ray sitting on the stoop talking. They stopped when I opened the door. “You boys coming in?”
“Soon, Mom. We are just talking.”
I closed the door. I hadn’t entertained the thought of Sam sharing what happened with his brother, but I had no doubt that is what he was doing right now. That made me nervous. I decided more housework might help distract me. I grabbed the ironing board and turned on the iron and retrieved a load of the boys’ shirts from the dryer. I typically ironed in the living room while watching television and saw no reason to break that habit.
When the boys walked in 15 minutes later, what the found was their mother in ironing their shirts, with her cleavage providing some – what was the name – eye candy.
The boys sat down on the sofa. A Perry Mason re-run was on the t.v. and they pretended to watch it, but I saw how their eyes angled toward me. I cleared my throat and smiled. “So, what were you two talking about?”
Sam looked at Ray.
Ray looked at me. “Ray told me what happened.”
I set the iron down on its holder. “Oh.” I sat down on the armchair across from them. “I guess I should have expected that.”
“What you did for Sam was a good thing, mother.”
I smiled. I looked at Sam and then down at my breasts. “Is this what you meant?”
Ray said, “You look good.”
Sam nodded again. “Yes, it is what I meant.”
Both of them were in sweatpants which could not hide their approval. I stood up and tugged my dress up my legs. “I could take up my dresses. How high should I go?”
I slowly pulled upwards so they could judge different lengths. I realized much later that doing this was also a type of slow tease which men appreciated.
At one point my dress was hiked up just below the bottom curves of my ass.
Sam blurted. “There, that’s perfect.” He looked at Ray.
“Yes, I agree,” Ray announced.
“Thank you. I just want to know what you meant about dressing differently. I pointed to my chest. “Is this okay?”
“Yes, but…” Sam hesitated.
Ray saved him. “I think we are both wondering about one more button being unfastened.”
I smiled and showed him. I looked down and wondered if they could see my areola from the sofa. I sat back down and watched their erections grow. I was feeling a bit daring now but also felt like what I was doing wasn’t breaking any big rules. How wrong could it be to dress this way for the men in my house?
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