Hi! I’m Lisa, and this is my story. I am now eighteen years old. I am really not someone who would catch your attention at first sight; this is mostly because I normally don’t try to. I’m average height, average build, and I’ve got a pretty average face. I’ve been told I’m cute. I’ve been told I’m sexy. I think both of these are true, especially when I’m naked and horny. And you have a chance of seeing me naked and horny if you know where to look. 

This story started over a year ago because of my friend Jenna, though she will probably never know the extent of her involvement in the radical life change I’ve experienced. Jenna is my online friend. We used to collaborate a lot on writing fanfiction - I’d write, she’d proofread, and vice-versa. She’d sometimes give me prompts, and I’d do my best to follow them. 

I liked writing fanfiction, and I didn't mind that it fit so much with the stereotype of a lonely geeky teen girl that I was back then. In a way, I still am that girl. I like being the way that I am. And writing fanfiction - well, it's not as respectable as writing real stuff, but it's a good practice. You don't have to worry about world-building and creating characters, you can just focus on the plot and character development. Back then I thought I’d try my hand at something original someday… but that day has yet to come. 

But this really has nothing to do with this story. The point is that one day Jenna gave me a challenge - to write a smutty story. The protagonist would have hot steamy sex with his best friend's sister. That’s it. Easy enough. Except… not. You see, I've never written smut before. My first draft was… well, I'll put it this way: as I realized later, epithets like "throbbing manhood" and "velvety love cave" were not in style anymore (and have they ever been?), and my teenage brain could not conjure up anything better. 

So I went out to do some research. The fanfiction site I posted on did have quite a bit of literary porn, but the stories seemed to always involve some context. That didn't really work for me. What I needed was smut for the sake of smut. 

A bit of research on the internet with the safe search turned off quickly yielded results and soon I was lost in reading online erotic literature. I thumbed story links at random, absorbing all descriptions, jotting down some particularly interesting turns of phrases - the works. And then I accidentally clicked on a story involving a mother and a son. 

Before then, I haven't had much interest in incest as a porn genre. I knew that incest existed, that it was becoming more prevalent in mainstream media as a shock trope, but I felt neither shocked nor aroused by the concept. I understood fetishes. Golden showers, for example, taboo, dirty, obscene, and some people were into it. I wasn't, but I understood the appeal. But incest? At the end of the day, it's still just two people having normal sex. Right? 

The story I clicked was written in the third-person omniscient perspective. It described just one single sexual encounter between a mother and her son. The author really delved into the thoughts and the emotions of their characters, and the story ended up really long, full of passages like this one:  

"He considered the unclad woman sprawled on the bed before him. She wasn't just beautiful, she was a mesmerizing goddess, she epitomized the pinnacle of his unbridled lust, she was the one woman bound to him through their very biology and nature; bound but infinitely unattainable. But not now. Not anymore. There was a need, a yearning in her darkly glistening eyes that countermanded any vestiges of shame she had earlier, a desire for her man, a love for her son." 

This was a bit too flowery for my taste. Still, it made me think. I haven’t had sex before (I’ve made out, there was some petting, doesn’t matter) and what I knew of sex was mostly through porn. Sex for me was something people did to each other. A purely physical thing. Of course, I was aware that love existed and that people in love usually ended up having sex, but I haven’t experienced love in that way. And, at any rate, sex happened much more often than love and at that point, I was much more interested in sex. I understood wanting to have sex with someone with a huge cock. I understood wanting to have sex with someone with nice tits. I haven’t really considered wanting to have sex with someone you know. Someone close to you. Wanting them because you knew them so well. 

This was new to me. 

The story continued. 

"She was acutely aware of her raw nakedness before him. A mother's nakedness, primitive and natural for a child, forbidden for an adult. It felt so right to be bare in front of her son, and yet so, so wrong. She knew she would give in to him, but, truly, was he not the one who was giving in to her? Going back into her, returning inside her? "That's it," she thought, "The 'going back'. The 'return'. That's the true meaning of incest. It's a relationship that spirals and loops in on itself, each curl of the spiral bringing us closer to ecstasy… and damnation." 

"Fuck me, son," she pleaded. "Fuck me. Come back inside your mother."

I don't recall when in the story I started masturbating, but it was that passage that set me over the edge. I put down my phone and rubbed myself just looking at those words - "go back inside your mother". I came hard and fast, slowly becoming aware of how uncomfortable I was now, still fully clothed and now sweaty in my t-shirt and pants. I pulled off my clothes, intending to take a shower, but I decided to finish the story first. 

“She lay on her bed and stared at nothing. Her son was already asleep, head nuzzled in her neck, hand gently squeezing her breast, so much like a baby. Like a slideshow, her mind produced pictures of their past - a newborn in her arms, a kid blowing out the candles on his birthday cake, his first day at school, his first girlfriend, his graduation… his cock in her throat, his eyes looking at her as his tongue caressed her clit. She knew that it was wrong, this caleidoscope of wholesomeness and depravity, but it didn’t feel wrong to her now; it felt complete, natural, converged. The night would pass, and he would still be there, unlike so many lovers she’d had before. Whether he would wake up as her son or as her lover, she promised herself not to regret this night.” 

The fanfiction story I was trying to write really has no bearing on this story anymore, but if you are curious (and for the sake of concluding a storyline) - in short, I finished another draft, feeling absolutely nothing for the characters. I decided to rewrite it yet again. This time, it wasn’t the protagonist who had sex with his best friend’s sister, but rather the best friend himself. Jenna expressed mild surprise at my choice of a brother and a sister, but thought it was sufficiently kinky. My constant readers on the fanfiction site gave lukewarm praise - some thought it was okay, others were disappointed in the cliche topic, and yet others said that I ruined their childhood. That was the end of the fanfiction smut writing for me. 

Instead, I started heavily exploring incest-related porn videos. Of course, incest porn has a wide variety of sub-genres; I didn’t much care for the ones where the actors would present themselves as ‘step’- something and then just fuck like in any other porn flicks. On the other hand, I found myself greatly enjoying the ‘point-of-view’ style videos where the actress would talk to and pretend to have sex with the viewer. My favorites were the videos where the ‘talk’ section would be long - I loved watching the ‘mother,’ ‘sister,’ or ‘daughter’ slowly seduce or get seduced by the viewer, the transition between being a model ‘mom’ (or ‘sister’ or ‘daughter’) and being a cum-hungry slut, the moment when the actress would take off her bra, crossing the last boundary. There were some actresses who took their role-playing very seriously. They produced a wide array of videos with very different scenarios, but they approached each and every scenario with earnestness and dedication. I didn’t know if they were really into it, or if they were just very good at acting. I was hoping for the former.

My fascination with specifically female actresses was not because of my sexual preference. At that point in my life, I thought I was bisexual. Incest porn scene was dominated by women, and so I mostly watched that. Men, for the most part, either couldn’t act or didn’t feel the need to. Some were too old or too young for their roles. Some stayed silent, their roles reduced to just being a camera with a dick attached. The ‘point-of-view’ style videos with male actors were non-existent. In fact, it appeared as though incest porn was nearly exclusively made for men; videos where the viewer was assumed to be female were in the overwhelming minority.

I watched what I could. At that point, I hadn't fantasized about having an incestuous encounter myself. I mean, yeah, I thought about what it would be like if my mom and I ever played around, or if my absent dad and I ever reconnected over our newly-discovered lust for each other, but… I don’t know. I have never perceived my mom as a sexual being, and my dad was living in another country with another family for the last ten years, so I really had no real food for fantasies, so to speak. 

Until… one day. When it happened. 

There was a video posted by a certain Ms. Mira Lovewell. I've never heard of that actress before, and I didn't particularly care for porn actresses' one-off foray into incest smut. Too often they would just say some motherly banalities and proceed to fill the rest of the run time by doing the usual stuff porn actresses do. I expected this one to be the same, but I liked what I saw in the thumbnail. It only showed Ms. Lovewell's breast, but it was a really beautiful breast: heavy and plump with a large hard nipple. I figured that even if the acting was bad, I'd still treat myself to a beautiful naked woman, and started the video. 

It started off in the dark, with only a silhouette of the woman visible on a bed. Looking at the camera, she said, "Hey baby, I've missed you. Come to mommy." 

I froze. The voice sounded exactly like my mother's. 

I fast-forwarded the video. The lights were on now. The woman was lying on her back and the cameraman was fucking her ass in a first-person shot. Her hair didn't match - like me, my mother was a long-haired brunette, but the woman had short blond hair. The face looked similar, but I couldn't be one hundred percent sure with all the makeup. 

I kept watching. The cameraman was very well endowed, thrusting heavily into Ms. Lovewell's ass. She seemed to enjoy it. 

"God, baby, you are fucking mommy's ass so good… make it cum, make my asshole cum, you dirty boy."

I paused again. It finally dawned on me - it was very simple, really. I didn't need to guess the face behind the makeup, I didn't need to listen for familiar voice modulations. It was the surroundings: the bed, the wall color, and the clock on the bedside table. It was my mother's bedroom, plain and simple. And unless she had a secret twin who hijacked her bedroom for a porno shoot, the video was definitely of my mother.

If I were to summarize my feelings at that point, I could do it in two words: ‘jumbled’ and ‘mess’. I was angry and sad, and I felt betrayed and lied to. I watched the video all the way to the end. I cried. I masturbated watching my mother say disgusting things on camera with someone's cum on her face. I felt disgusted at myself like I was spying on mom, watching something she wouldn’t want me to see… and I kept masturbating. 

I googled Ms. Lovewell and found she had an account on one of the membership platforms. I paid for the most affordable tier (ironically using the allowance my mother gave me) and started clicking randomly on the videos I could now access. Over the next hour, I watched my mother masturbate and get fucked in all conceivable ways. From what I could tell, the guy - whoever he was - was always the same. Most of the videos were made in first-person perspective, but some were shot from a stationary camera, though the man's face was never in the frame. Still, it didn't take long to figure out who it was. The man had a distinct abstract tattoo on his left arm, vaguely reminiscent of an M. C. Escher drawing. That tattoo belonged to my twenty-year-old cousin Charlie. 

Charlie was not a stranger to our family (not a stranger at all, as it turned out). His parents - his mother was my mother's sister - lived in a different state, but he went to a college in the town where we lived. As such, he frequently visited us, often spending the night. I wouldn't say that he and I were best friends, but we did hang out, and he would also sometimes help me with homework or standardized test prep. 

Charlie was also friendly with my mother, but I had never had any reason to think there was something more there than a typical aunt-nephew relationship. He was always welcome to stay over, and when he did, she would make us dinner (always something a bit more fancy than our usual meals), ask him about college, about his parents - normal aunt stuff. There was nothing, nothing at all, to make me think something was going on. 

I needed… something. Answers. Confirmations. What I saw in those videos was real, but that reality was very different from my reality, and the only way I could accept that was to face them - Charlie and my mother - and have them confirm it. I decided to drive up to Charlie's first. My mom would not be back home until the evening, and I didn't want to wait until then. Charlie would probably be in his dorm room, and if he weren't, I could ask him to meet me there. 

It took me maybe half of an hour to get to Charlie's college dorm. I kept trying to think of what to tell him, but everything I came up with sounded stupid. I decided to just wing it. Ask him about the videos and let him talk. 

I parked near the dorm and headed inside. My heart was pounding. There were some guys downstairs playing ping-pong, and a group of students were sitting on the couch going over some notes. One of them looked up at me questioningly, but I didn't look back. I headed upstairs to the third floor where Charlie's room was. 

The hallway was empty - luckily, because I needed a minute to calm myself down. I stood in front of Charlie's door and just breathed for a while. I didn't know if I could go through with this anymore. I decided that if he wasn't in, I would not call him or wait for him, I would just go home. 

I breathed in and knocked. 

"Come in," Charlie said. 

I breathed out and stepped in. 

Charlie was at his desk, writing something in a notepad. He looked up at me and smiled. 

"Lisa! Hey! What are you doing here?" 

"Hi Charlie," I said weakly. "I need to talk to you about something. Do you have some time?"

"Um… yeah, of course. Here or should we walk somewhere?"

"Here is fine." I closed the door behind me and sat down in his bed (there was no other furniture to sit in - Charlie's room was tiny). 

"Charlie, I found the videos."

He looked at me blankly. 

"The ones where you and mom…"

He blushed. "Oh, shit. Did you talk to your mother about these?"

"No. I... she won't be back until dinner and… damn it, Charlie, what the fuck?"

He tapped his fingers on his desk. Looked at me in the eyes and sighed. 

“I’m not sure what to tell you, to be honest,” he said finally. “Your mom does porn to make some extra cash. I help her. I mean, it’s weird, I guess, but-” he shrugged “it is what it is.” 

“That’s all you have to say?” I spat angrily. “It is what it is?” 

“Well yeah,” he said. “What do you want me to say? What are you upset about, exactly? That your mom does porn? That’s not that uncommon and besides, that’s not on me, really.” 

“No,” I said. 

“That she is doing it with me?” 

“No,” I said again. “Well, yes, it’s really weird. You are my cousin. Her nephew. And in the videos, you call her ‘mom’, which is even more weird.” 

His blush got more intense, and despite my anger, I was really enjoying that. 

“Okay, fine. It’s weird. But, I mean, it’s not real, you know? We’re just making some extra cash, like I said.” 

“Are you though? You sure seem to be enjoying yourself.” 

He stood up. “You know what? I don’t think I’m the right person for you to be having this conversation with. You...