Sometimes, people are born in the wrong place. It’s not their fault. And yet they are. Some accept their fate, some find their way out, and yet they all try to belong. That was what my mom had done her entire life. Tried to belong. She did not belong in small town Texas. The religion, the purity gospel, the hypocrisy, none of it was for her. And yet when she got pregnant at a young age, she got caught in it. Shotgun wedding and all. She married my dad, gave birth to me. And she did not belong. Just like she had not belonged before.
My dad was young, and a good man, but he didn’t understand. He didn’t have the words for it, so slowly but surely instead of getting closer, they drifted apart. By the time I was 3, they barely spoke to each other. Six months later, she left. She went “to the store” one afternoon and never came back. I remember crying, getting ice cream, and little else. I learnt not to ask. My dad became quiet, introverted, a loner. As if the weight of that failure was too heavy on his heart. How could he let his own wife leave? I was too young to understand, and nobody spoke much to me over the years. I could only piece together a few pieces of the puzzle. I couldn’t even remember “mom” had a name, much less what she looked like.
It was only 6 months ago, when I returned home from college, that dad sat me down and finally opened up to me. “I’m dying son” he told me. Cancer. Two months. At most. Treatment was too expensive, and he’d have to go to Houston anyway for it. “If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die at home, where all I love is. Not in some damn city” he said. He was at peace with it. He was dying as he lived: alone in the small town he had never dared leave. He talked to me about mom. He understood now. It had taken him years, a lifetime if you will, to figure it out. But he understood now. Her dreams were too big for Turkey, Texas. His were just the right size. He wanted warm home cooked meals, a child with good manners at the dinner table, and a job that paid a respectable wage for a family man.
He told me mom’s name, and her last whereabouts he knew of. Lianne Abbott was last heard of in Las Vegas, fifteen years back. She sent a postcard, asking for his understanding and hoping we were happy without her. After that, silence. Absolute silence. I clung on to that name and that location. A week after that conversation, dad went to sleep, and never woke up. Once he was six feet underground, I hired an investigator. He had one job: find Lianne, find “mom”. Was she alive? Were was she? With dad dead and buried, it didn’t feel like a betrayal to go off and search for mom. He did his best, I never wanted for anything that he could offer me. It was not his fault. But I needed to know. I wanted to know my mom.
A few thousand dollars and a few weeks later, the man came back. Lianne had left Las Vegas, only to settle in Reno. He gave me her address, her phone number, and a list of her internet accounts. Facebook, Instagram, and Reddit. She had never divorced my dad, lived alone in a one bedroom apartment, and had no other kids. She worked as a receptionist at a dentist office, and despite a few hiccups here and there, had mostly been a law-abiding taxpayer ever since leaving Turkey.
I browsed every account, hoping to learn about her, understand her, understand why she had left her family and if it had been worth her. Neither her Facebook nor her Instagram had much. Her Reddit account, however, was another story. She talked about her life, in vivid detail. She filled pages upon pages on slutty confessions and gone wild stories, and she dumped hundreds of pictures on gonewild. She had no onlyfans, she just did it for the thrill. “I gave up a lot to chase a dream, and the dream escaped anyway” she wrote in one post, “so I keep the thrill alive by sharing myself online”. I should have looked away. But maybe because I didn’t grow up with her, or maybe because of some deep unsatisfied longing, it didn’t feel wrong to keep reading. To keep looking. She told stories of blowjobs in parking lots, she told stories of blindfolds and ropes, stories of first dates turned into getting eaten out at casinos, and she posted pictures to match. She was in her forties, and by all means a cougar. A wild wild cougar. If she hadn’t been mom, I would have found her attractive. Heck, maybe I did anyway, judging from the bulge in my pants.
I went back to those stories and those photos for days. And finally I found the courage to call her. “Hi, please don’t hang up, it’s your son Mark” were the first words I said. She sat there silent. “Mom?” I said. I heard her sigh, and then she asked “Mark? How did you find me?” I explained to her all that happened, dad’s death, the investigator I hired, but I left out the details about her Reddit. She asked me a few questions about dad, maybe out of curiosity, maybe to make sure I wasn’t trying to scam her. And then she warmed up. I caught her up about my life, how I had gone to college in Portland, only to come home and find dad a week away from death. I told her I knew she lived in Reno and wanted to see her. She loved the idea. She told me to fly next week, that she’d take the time off work so we could make up for lost years. She asked if I’d move there. I told her I was not sure. “Let me come there for a few days first”
And so I did. I flew to Reno, she met me at the airport. I had booked two adjacent rooms in a nice hotel downtown so she didn’t have to go back to her apartment every night. We sat down at a bar and talked. For hours. We had so much to say. I asked her a million questions, and so did she. We went to dinner. Then back to the hotel. “Wanna grab one last drink in the room before bed?” she suggested. We were both a little tipsy, I won’t lie. Did that help what happened next? Would it have happened anyway? I’ll never know. Suffice it to say that one drink became three glasses of wine, and that at one point a drop of the wine fell off the cup down her cleavage. She wasn’t wearing anything too revealing, but that tiny sliver of her body was enough to make me skip a breath as the drop traveled down her skin.
I didn’t mean to, but …. wine and all. I knew she knew I had looked. Was I looking for an excuse? Maybe. I said the words. “I saw your reddit profile before I called you”. She smiled. “Oh you did uh?” is all she said. I felt awkward. I had to fill the silence. I kept blabbering. Making stories, excuses, and owning up to it all. To having read her stories. Seen her photos. “Well, you have certainly seem more of your mother than most sons ever do” she said with a giggle. “How do you feel about that?” she asked.
“Well it’s your life and I can’t judge it and I don’t think it’s my place…” but she interrupted me. She put a finger to my mouth, and shushed me. “I know we didn’t grow up together, so you don’t know this. And one of the reasons why we didn’t is because honesty is important to me. I hate bullshit. I hate platitudes. Tell me the truth. How do you feel about what you saw? About what you read?”
I paused. Collected my thoughts. “It’s sexy” I blurted out. She giggled again. “Finally a good old honest answer” she said, hitting her leg with her hand
“Is it sexy that your mom likes sex? Is it sexy that your mom takes her clothes off on Reddit? Is it sexy that you saw every little freckle on my body? Read all about how wet I get? Is that what’s sexy?” she whispered, leaning in to my ear. I felt her breath on my skin. I could smell the wine, and her perfume. “It.. it is” I managed to answer, as if frozen in place
“What is your favorite part of mom’s body?” she continued
“Your… your breasts”, I answered. “They are a perfect handful. The piercings, the shape, the size. I love them”
She took a pause. And then said “It does feel really good when someone touches and sucks my breasts. Although you need to be careful of the piercings. Do you want to touch them? Do you want me to feel good? Would that be sexy?”
The alcohol had gone to our brains, I’m sure of it. And yet the mix of being drunk, of her smell, and of her words about honesty… I just couldn’t move away from the conversation. “I mean… it seems wrong to think that way. And I feel like I’m disappointing you. But… it’s also tempting. Like… part of me wants to see more of you.. and part of me is scared of those thoughts. Does it make sense?”
“Well it’s not supposed to happen. But let’s talk about that” she said
And talk about it I did. “I… I want to caress them. To feel your nipples get hard under the palm of my hand. I want to guide them into my mouth. Bite them softly. Flick them with my tongue. Taste your skin. Feel its softness. And… and.. I want to watch you feel good when I do it”. I felt my cock hard as a rock in my pants. I felt all inhibitions vanish from my soul. All I felt was a painful unquenchable desire to fuck my mom in that hotel room.
She didn’t say a word. She took all her clothes off. Quickly. Matter of fact. As if she was just going to bed for the night. And she laid in the bed. No blanket covering her. No fabric on her skin. And she invited me to come next to her. To lay beside her. As soon as my body hit the bed, she pulled me closer, let my head rest on her breasts. “Suckle from mom” she moaned gently. As if I needed encouragement. I suckled. I did as I had told her. Kissed her. Licked her. Cupped her breasts in my hands. She moaned. Pushed her body forward, as if offering more of herself to me. She angled herself so she could feel my hard cock against her inner thighs. She felt me try to push inside her. She stopped me. “Not inside” she whispered, as her hand grabbed my cock. She rubbed against her pussy, letting me feel her wetness. “Not inside” she whispered once more, as her thumb played with the tip of my cock, felt the moisture of my precum.
We made out. Like two horny rabbits. Tongue against tongue. Panting. Moaning. She felt my cock twitch in her hand, I felt her pussy quiver around my fingers. “cum mom” I whispered in her ear. “I want you to feel good”.
Was it my words? Was it her body? She stopped stroking my cock and guided it inside herself. I was inside my own mom. Raw, primal, and forbidden. I felt her wetness, her tightness. It felt like heaven. Like bliss. She moaned. She clenched her legs around me. And with her back arched to the heavens she came. I watched in awe, and waited for her to feel all her pleasure. And then she hugged me tight. “Cum for mommy, fill me up” she said. I didn’t need any more encouragement. I did as she asked me. I came inside my mother.
We laid down next to each other, and fell asleep. When we woke up, it was morning. She was my mom, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And we had made love to each other. And I loved her more than I knew possible
*My gratitude for this story goes to u/CrystalKewl*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/v26p17/mf_incest_i_saw_your_reddit_profile_before_i