Hi, my name is Kory, and I have a confession to make. Ever since I was eighteen, I’ve wanted to fuck my mother, and over the years, it’s only gotten worse. So now, being twenty, I finally decided to see if there was a chance I could get her interested in the idea of wanting to fuck me also.
With my mother only being thirty-eight, and still looking as hot as ever; I was more determined now to see if I could persuade her into committing such an act with her son.
I guess I should start by describing what my mother looks like before I continue, since it might give you a better understanding of why I’m pursuing this sinful act in the first place.
My mother, Gretchen, has a very-fit figure, standing at only five foot four; I would guess she weighs maybe a hundred and ten pounds at the most. Her breasts aren't big. They're not a size D or anything like that, but they're not small either; so I would have to say she’s a size C, if I had to guess. Her jet-black hair is straight and long—and I mean long; like down to the crack of her ass, long.
Also, her light-color skin goes nicely with her hazel eyes and, in my opinion, makes her look very mysterious.
With that said, I’ll return to my little tale, since I hope that cleared up why I found her so fuckable in the first place.
Frustrated, I went on a quest, searching hours online, looking for ideas, suggestions, or anything that might give me a clue as to how to seduce my mother into fucking me.
I was just about to give up, when I came across this forum that dealt in all kinds of incestuous subjects, and noticed that one person, Jim, just happened to have posted a question that was the exact subject I was searching for the answer to.
Glancing over the multiple replies that various people had posted, I couldn’t believe how many people had found a way to sleep with their mother for the first time.
Fuck! I thought, and then quickly got comfortable as I went back and started to read the first reply posted.
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“Hi Jim,” the author started by saying. “I’m Jerry, and like you, I was tormented by wanting to fuck my mother, Karen.
Christ, was she a looker! I mean, she had such a killer figure that every time I caught her bending over, my eyes would focus on that firm ass of hers. Immediately, my cock rose until it was a steel pole, as she flaunted her bubbly butt, swaying to and fro in front of my prying eyes.
I could often envision myself between her legs and watch how her luscious, D-size tits would bounce around, as I jackhammered my solid meat deep inside her succulent pussy.
“Fuck me, Jerry! Fuck me!” I could hear her say inside my head, as I looked into her dark-brown eyes while her long, light-colored brown hair draped across the pillow.
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I paused for a minute, as my pecker started to stiffen after reading how well Jerry described what his mother looked like, while he was banging her in his mind.
I was hooked and continued reading, knowing I would be hanging on his every word, as he recalled his incestuous tale.
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Only like you, I wasn’t sure how I could get her into wanting to fuck me for real. It wasn’t as if my mother would be hard up, since she was still married to my father, Charles, and figured he had to be fucking her on a regular basis. What guy wouldn’t be screwing her as often as they could?
The funny thing is, the way I got to fuck my mother was just out of dumb luck.
It happened during my senior year of high school when I was eighteen. I had just come home from school, and no sooner walked into the house, when I saw my mother sitting on the sofa with a stern look, while bouncing a foot over her crossed legs.
Wow, she doesn't look happy, I thought, as I took another step inside the door.
"We need to talk, mister!" she barked, while crossing her arms.
"Um... Okay," I remarked, as I slowly walked over to the couch.
"Sit down, please."
I did as my mother requested, and then asked, "Did I do something wrong?"
"You tell me!" she shouted, before holding up a clear plastic bag, and followed with, "Care to explain this!"
Oh shit! My mind screamed, realizing my mother had found my stash of marijuana that I had tucked between the mattresses of my bed.
"Mom... I... Ah..." was all I could get out before she unloaded.
"I thought we raised you better, Jerry! What is your father going to think!"
Oh, fuck, she's going to tell my father, I thought, and knew right then my life as I knew it, would be over as soon as he found out. So my only chance now would be if I could somehow convince her not to tell him. I said, "Mom, do you have to tell Dad?"
Mom stopped bouncing her foot, as she set the bag of pot down on her thigh and replied, "Now, why would I keep something like this from him."
"Listen, Mom," I said. "Didn't you at least try pot when you were my age?"
It appeared as if my mother was reminiscing before she went on to say, "That's not the point. What I did or didn't do isn't the issue here."
"Okay, you’re right. It isn't. But you know what Dad will do, if you tell him."
"Oh, so now you're worried about your father. How come it didn't bother you before this? Did you think we wouldn't find out sooner or later, that you were doing drugs?"
"Mom, please. I don't smoke it all the time. Only when I want to relax from a stressful day at school."
"You want me to believe that you only smoke this stuff when you're feeling uptight."
"Well, yeah. That and when... You know... When I get with a girl."
Mom's once-nasty appearance had changed into a questionable one, and she said, "What do you mean, when you get with a girl?"
"You know... It helps to get her in the mood."
Mom looked down at the bag of pot and then back up at me and replied, "You mean to tell me that this stuff, can make a girl horny?"
She really doesn't know, does she? I thought, and said, "Well, not exactly. I mean, it's not an aphrodisiac. It just relaxes you to the point that you can feel things more."
Mom appeared to be contemplating what I said since she was reticent for an extended period, and I don't know why, but realizing my mother mustn't have ever tried pot, I said, "You know, it would be easier if you just gave it a try, instead of having me explain what it feels like."
With a shocking appearance, my mother shouted, "Are you crazy! You actually want me to smoke a joint!"
Yeah, I guess that was an insane suggestion, even though it sounded good in my head at the time, and I replied, "I guess you're right. I'm sorry. It's just, I figured maybe you might have gotten a better understanding as to why I even have a bag of pot in the first place."
Mom looked back down at the bag of weed. I could tell she was mulling something over in her head. She stayed like that for about a minute, before she mumbled, "Let's say I do give this a try; about how long do the effects last."
I was shocked now, and said, "So, it all depends on how much you inhale. Since you're only testing it, I would say not long. Maybe a half-hour, or so."
Mom turned and looked at the clock we had hanging on the living room wall and said, "Well, your father will be home shortly, so today is out of the question. But since tomorrow is Saturday, and he plans on going golfing in the morning, I might consider trying it then."
This sounded promising, so I decided to push my luck and asked, "So does this mean you're not going to tell him about this?"
Mom looked at me and replied, "I guess I'll keep this between us, for now."
I sighed loudly, with my mind at ease, before saying, "Thanks, Mom."
"Mm-hmm. But you're still not off the hook, mister. You will be punished for this. I'm just not sure what it will be, at the moment."
"Okay, Mom. I understand, and I am sorry for letting you down like this. That was never my intent, and I hope I can make it up to you."
"We'll see. Now get to your room and take this with you," she replied, while handing me back my bag of weed.
I never knew how well my mother could hide her feelings, until that evening. If she was still upset with me, it never showed while we ate dinner that night. Nor when we watched some television, before turning in for the evening.
That morning, I didn't rush out of my room. Instead, I stayed there until I heard my father leaving to play golf. Then I ventured into the kitchen, as if what my mother and I talked about wasn't even on my mind.
"Hi, Mom," I said, as I sat at the table.
"Morning, Jerry," my mother replied. "How did you sleep?"
"Oh, okay, I guess," I replied, as I admired my mother's attire.
My eyes focused quickly on my mother's hard nipples which were protruding outwardly, and it became apparent to me, that she wasn't wearing a bra under that white tee-shirt she had on. Slowly, I glanced downward over her light-pink sweatpants, and then noticed how the crack of her ass conformed to the material.
Fuck, I was already getting stiff and said, "So, Mom, did Dad already leave to play golf?"
My mother shot me a little smirk when she said, "Yes, he did. And if you're asking because of what we talked about yesterday, let me just say this first. I gave what we discussed a lot of thought last night, and I'm not sure if me smoking pot would be a good idea."
I felt depressed hearing that and replied, "Oh, okay, I guess I can understand that."
"I mean, what would people think if it ever got out that I actually did this."
I played it cool and said, "What people are you talking about? And besides that, it's only you and me here. You don't think I would be the one telling people, do you?"
"Hmmm. I suppose you're right. But still, I can't help but feel a little weary doing something like this with my son."
I replied, "Listen, Mom, it was only a suggestion. I know how much I disappointed you by smoking weed. I only thought that if you gave it a try, it would let you experience what I was saying about feeling more relaxed."
Of course, I deliberately left out the part about becoming a little more open to feeling sexually stimulated.
Mom paused before saying, "Okay... I guess you convinced me. So, before I change my mind, why don't you grab one of your joints and meet me in the living room.
Hastily, I took out the biggest doobie I could find, before meeting my mother on the sofa.
Do you want me to light it? I asked.
"Yes, you’d better."
Putting the joint in my mouth, I quickly lit it and took a few tokes, before handing it to my mother.
My mother took a hit, but inhaled too much and immediately started to cough.
"Too much, Mom," I said. "You need to take a light puff and then hold it."
"Like this?" she asked, as she took a smaller drag and held the smoke as I said.
"Yeah, like that. Now hold it as long as you can before blowing it out."
It wasn't long before my mother got the hang of it, and I was surprised when she then handed the joint to me.
"You sure, Mom?" I said.
"Why not. It's not like you don't do it now."
With me, now also smoking the joint, it didn't take long before we finished it, and I asked, "So how do you feel?"
Mom closed her eyes, before resting her head back on the sofa and then, as she placed her hand on my thigh, said, "You know I do feel more relaxed."
Like my mother, I tossed my head back before placing my hand on her thigh and said, "See. I told you. It relaxes."
