A mother’s lust, Part 1 (MMF, cheating, cuckolding, incest)

Jenna sat in the car, the engine running to keep the AC going, the cool air soothing and good against her overheated face. Her heart was pounding and she felt the familiar sticky wetness between her legs as she stared out the windshield at the house she shared with her husband, Dan, the house they now lived in alone after their two grown children had gone out on their own. It was a lovely home, she was proud to note — two stories, a well-kept rambler they’d owned for more than 30 years. An immaculately-trimmed lawn stretched to the curb, and in front of her was her husband’s still fairly new Lexus sedan. She herself drove the Mercedes SUV he’d purchased for her a few years back.

She looked in the mirror, touched her blond-and-brown streaked hair and examined her makeup carefully, trying to get her breathing under control, gazing into the reflection of her disconcertingly beautiful blue-green eyes … asking herself once again if she was going through with this. But today was the day. Things were already in motion. She’d asked Dan to come home early from work so she could share something important with him.

He was, by now, used to some interruptions and surprise texts and calls from Jenna. Four years into their cuckolding relationship, she’d come to feel more than comfortable in charge of not only her sexual life, but his as well. He was almost constantly caged now, and had settled into his role remarkably well, given the A-type personality he presented to most of the rest of the world.

She took a deep, calming breath, switched off the ignition, and climbed from the car into the bright glare of the day, adjusting her short black leather skirt, pulling it down to once again cover the tops of her thigh-high stockings. She was wearing a long-sleeve wine-red silk top, and she paused once again, now looking into her dark-tinted window, to admire her image before walking carefully up the flag-stone steps, her open-toe stilleto heels clicking, and to the front door, using her key to open it. The cool air of their home was a welcome relief after the heat outside, and she made sure to leave the door unlocked before placing her handbag on the entryway table along with her keys.

“Honey?” she called out into the recesses of the house.

“In here, babe,” she heard her husband call from the living room.

Once again steeling herself, she walked down the center hall to the large, open living room, the clacking of her heels even louder inside. The room was hers, decorated over the years to her tastes, with its lovely furnishings, its wide fireplace and large bay windows in both front and back. On the mantle were pictures of the family and the kids, from infancy to just recently, and she paused a moment, looking at a fairly recent framed photo of Dan and their eldest son, Michael, on a ski trip to Utah last winter. Mike, a full six inches taller and bigger in the shoulders and chest, had his arm draped over his father’s shoulder, pulling him in close, with the usual devil-may-care grin on her son’s bearded face that warmed her heart.

She looked away from the photo, feeling her face flush a bit, and walked further into the room. Dan stood when she came in, looking her up and down, and she saw the telltale flush on his face as he took in her heels and short skirt, her hose and the clingy blouse, her made-up face and perfectly mussed hair.

“Did you have a date today I didn’t know about?” he asked in some confusion, approaching as if to embrace and kiss her.

She stopped him, her hands gentle and firm on his chest.

“No … well, at least not yet,” she smiled, regarding this man she’d known for so many years. Dan was still handsome at age 48, with his salt-and-pepper hair, expressive blue eyes and nice physique. He kept in shape with running and tennis, was abstemious, always well-dressed and always neat and tidy. He’d been an amazing father and husband, and, particularly in these last years, a wonderful confidant and helpmate as they’d delved deeper and deeper into cuckoldry.

She carefully sat on the couch, patting the cushion next to her.

“We need to talk, honey. There’s something you have to know,” Jenna said, quietly and seriously. “Something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about for some time but which, well … let’s just say it’s been hard to find a way to bring it up.”

Dan sat too, and she noted how serious his own expression had become.

“What is it, honey?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

She patted his hand but then refolded her hands in her lap, and he drew his hand back, now looking slightly alarmed.

“Has … has something bad happened? With a lover? Did someone-” he swallowed. “Were you abused or attacked or something?”

She was already shushing him, shaking her head, smiling.

“No, no hon, nothing like that,” Jenna replied, soothing him. “Nothing bad at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s just, well … ” she paused again, looking at him, loving him, but knowing that she had to continue. Had to keep up their custom of openness and honesty, even if she had herself been bending those rules the past month or so. “It’s just that it’s awkward. And probably hard for you to hear. I know it’s difficult for me to say.”

His alarm had lessened, helped along by her gentleness and her smile, but she could still see the tenseness in him.

“Is … have you …” he paused, gathering himself. And when he continued, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Have you fallen … fallen in love with someone?” he asked, and her heart went out to him when she saw how much it had cost him to ask, and the fear in his eyes.

“Shh …. Dan, please, don’t think that way. We’ve talked about this before. I agreed that if I ever felt myself having romantic feelings for a lover, I’d break it off, remember?”

He nodded, releasing a pent-up sigh, and gave her a weak smile.

“Whew,” he murmured, and she smiled as he pantomimed wiping sweat from his brow, grateful for his humor and the slight easing of tension.

“But then … what is it? What’s going on?” he asked, clearly a bit bewildered.

She gathered herself then, marshaling her feelings and her control, well-honed over these past four years of learning how to be a cuckoldress and how best to control her loving husband.

“First, honey, let me ask — are you still caged?” She asked the question with the same small smile, but now there was a slight edge to her tone.

Dan responded to the tone immediately, she was happy to see, sitting up straighter and becoming more serious himself.

“Yes, of course, Jenn. Mistress. You still have my key,” he said, looking at her quizzically. “And I’d never remove my cage without your permission. You know that.”

She smiled at his response, and fished the thin gold chain around her neck from the bodice of her blouse, the small brass key attached to it. She held it up, letting it catch the light from the one lit lamp next to the couch, and reached to pat his hand.

“I do know that, my sweet cuckold,” she murmured, putting the key away again. “But it never hurts to check. Or to make sure I still have your devotion.”

“All of it. Always,” he answered, quietly, fervently.

She nodded, gathering herself again, the mood now set, and sat up straight, gazing at him with love but also the expression that suggested that she wasn’t in the mood for levity or argument.

“I haven’t been completely honest and open with you for the past month or so, and for that I do completely apologize,” she began, her tone still warm but firm. “The truth is, I’ve taken a new lover that you don’t know about. I know how important openness and honesty are in our lives now, and I do regret keeping this from you.”

She saw his face pale, his eyes widen, the hurt look in them. But her mien remained firm, and while he seemed for a moment as if he’d remonstrate, she saw him bite back whatever it was he was going to say and simply nod at her.

Nodding herself, she continued.

“I can’t regret the rest of it though,” she said, letting a bit more warmth into her voice. This time, she reached for his hand and held it. “Do you know how we’ve always talked about finding the perfect man for me, ever since we started this? Someone I truly connect with, someone who I am comfortable with, who knows me?”

He was nodding, his eyes on hers, and she squeezed his hand more firmly.

“But we were always disappointed, weren’t we?” she murmured, leaning toward him earnestly. “Either they wanted too much, or caught feelings. Or they were too demanding or married or otherwise unavailable.” He was nodding still, both of them clearly thinking of the series of promising men Jenn had met and fucked but who, ultimately, hadn’t worked out.

“Or we were just incompatible … in bed,” she continued. “Their cocks weren’t big enough, or they lacked stamina. Or they couldn’t perform if you were there. You remember some of those as well, don’t you?”

He nodded again, and she saw him shift on the cushion, saw the way he pressed his hands down more firmly in his lap, saw the red flush creeping into his cheeks.

“My darling … I’ve found him,” she whispered, the heartfelt conviction of her words evident in her face, her tone, her shining eyes, the tightened grip of her hand on his.

Dan sat for a moment, clearly unable to speak. He cleared his throat.

“I’m … I’m happy, then,” he finally said, his voice shaky. “But … why wouldn’t you want to share that with me?” he asked, sounding hurt and confused. “You know how much I want that for you. You know I’d celebrate with you.” He shook his head, looking at her. “Why keep it secret from me for a month?”

Jenn felt her heart pounding even harder, her breathing shaky, her own cheeks heating with the flush of what she new she had to tell him. She looked down to where their hands were joined, and gathered herself before raising her eyes to his and once again sitting up straighter.

“I’ve been worried about how you’d react … how you’d take it,” she finally said, knowing he could probably feel and see the way she was shaking, hear the quaver in her voice. “It’s so important that you’re okay with this, honey. That you … you will want to celebrate this with me, just like you said.” She swallowed, fixing her eyes to his even as she wanted to look away. “You see, the thing is … it’s Michael, honey. We’ve been … well, we’ve been fucking for the past month or so, a few times a week.” She shivered, even as she said it, feeling herself moisten, feeling her nipples harden in the sheer white bra she had on under her blouse. “It’s been … well, incredible.”

She saw his puzzlement … and then a look on his face of dawning horror. She saw him look to the mantle, to the photos there … then back to her, his face almost ghostly in its sudden paleness.

“Michael?” he croaked, barely able to speak. “Michael … our *son*??”

“Yes, baby. Oh, yes. Our wonderful, perfect, sexy son.”

*Hope this appeals … I certainly enjoyed writing it. I’ll provide a Part II (and possibly more) if there seems to be interest. :)*

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ik3uuu/a_mothers_lust_part_1_mmf_cheating_cuckolding