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** This is a work of fiction. It contains absolutely no truth — even the bits that sound plausible. The characters in this story are not based on any real persons, nor is the story based on any real events. It’s a story people, enjoy it for it is. **
** This story is about incest between a mother and her son — both of whom are adults. If you don’t like this subject matter, move along. **
“Do you want a wipe?” I asked, staring across at Sona. Her hand was still between her legs and I could see her still lazily flicking her cunt. She had her eyes closed and a serene smile across her beautiful face which seemed to radiate an ethereal glow. It was nice seeing her like this, at peace with herself.
She opened her eyes and glanced across at me. I had the sense she was mildly annoyed from having me break her moment. She took her hands from her cunt and examined the slick clear mucus as she rubbed her fingertips together.
“Nah, I think I’ll just go and freshen up.” She said as she struggled to pick herself up from her reclined position on the sofa.
Her tight fitting jeans were bunched around her knees as she made a comical shuffle towards the bathroom, one hand struggling to pull her jeans up the other cupping her coochie.
As she passed me I gave a quick playful smack on her firm bum and she squealed in surprise, slapping me back playfully on the shoulder before disappearing into the passageway and to the toilet.
I took a wipe from the dispenser and mopped up the mess on my hands and cock, working it all over my crotch before scrunching it up and dumping it in with the fast food takeaway litter strewn across the coffee table. I pulled my shorts and trousers back on and sat in the quiet living room, sniffing the pungent smells in the air, a strange cocktail of donor kebab, sweat, and pussy. I got up to open a window to let some fresh air back in before I fell back onto the sofa and lazily watched the millionth repeat of some American sitcom on TV, even though the sound was still on mute.
Sona came back in the room, blowing out a long exhale as she went to sit back at her spot on the sofa. Before she set back she bunched up her hair and tied it into a neat knot with one of her scrunchies. I watched her throughout, a knowing smile on my face.
“What?” She asked, smirking sheepishly.
“Enjoy yourself?” I asked, a wide grin on mine.
“Yeah, it was nice. Always nice to have a bit of a tickle.” She chuckled girlishly.
“I bet. So……”
“What?” She smiled at me curiously. I think she knew what I was going to say but was just playing dumb.
“Well, it appears we’ve had a bit of a revelation today, no?”
She rolled her eyes and gawped at me, her amusement never fading. “So, I know your dying to tell me. Explain it to me Mr hotshot amateur psychologist.”
“I think this one’s a bit too deep and tricky for me. I think you need a proper psychiatrist for this one!”
“Don’t say that!” She whined at me playfully.
“I mean it. It’s a reaaaaal tricky one. You. Mobeen. I’m not even going to mention Karen. In fact Karen’s not the problem here. It’s just you and Mobeen.”
“So you think it’s a problem then?” A look of mild concern crossed her face.
“I don’t know. Depends on what you do I guess. I mean you haven’t done anything yet. There’s been movement from his end in approaching you with the whole threesome thing but you yourself haven’t actually done anything about it. The matter is dead in the water as I see it.”
“Question is, should I do anything about it?”
“Nopes, the question is, do you WANT to do anything about it?”
“Oh come on. Why do you have to make it so complicated? Why can’t you just tell me what to do and I’ll do it?” She argued, in mock frustration.
“Because it’s not about me. It’s about you and your life. I can only help you think through your thoughts but you have to make the decisions. You’re the one that needs to get the control back in your life. It’s no good you doing everything I say. That would be a terrible idea. I’m a freaking pervert!”
“Problem is, I’m a bit twisted in the head as well!” She added.
We both chuckled together as I watched her pat the pillow next to her nervously. She looked at me with eyes full of sorrow and regret as her laughter trailed off. I pitied her deeply.
“Hmmmn, yes. That IS a problem.” I said.
“That is THE problem.” She corrected.
“Indeed. I guess all you can do is see how it goes. See how things pan out.”
“That doesn’t sound like an answer.”
“It’s not. It’s me using my ‘get out of jail free’ card.” “You still have those?”
She threw a pillow at me and pretended to pout. We watched the rest of the sitcom in silence before I agreed to take her home. It was already 3 in the morning.
Neither of us brought up the topic again for several weeks after that. I wanted to. Almost every time I spoke to her I tried to navigate the conversation in that direction but it just didn’t seem to work out. She’d bore me to death with all her other problems and flights esenyurt anal yapan escort of fancy.
It was only a day before the mid term holidays that she finally broached the topic. Albeit nervously.
She called me while I was out grocery shopping on a Sunday afternoon. We dispensed with the pleasantries quickly.
“So what’s up?” I asked. My mind was only partly in the conversation as I glanced through the supermarket shelves for horseradish pickle.
“Mobeen is coming home for the holidays.”
I froze straight away as that ominous statement hung in the air, full of possibility and consequence.
“OK.” Was the only reply I could dumbly muster.
“I was hoping you’d say a bit more than that.”
“I know. It’s just…” I looked around suspiciously. I wanted to carry on this conversation but had the distinct feeling it wasn’t going to be possible to have it here, in a supermarket, in public.
“Listen can I call you back?” I added, quickly.
“No, I need to talk now. I’m going out of my mind!” She sounded hoarse and her frustration came across clearly in her cracked tones.
“Don’t worry. I promise I’ll call you back in a bit. I’m at the supermarket right now and can’t talk cos there’re people around. Let me get back to the car so we can talk properly.”
“OK, hurry up!”
I frantically completely the rest of the grocery shopping. Horseradish pickle for now would be off the menu.
As I hurried to the car a million thoughts went through my head, none of which I could articulate or frame into a coherent sentence.
As soon as I got into the car I called her back, she answered before the phone even rang.
“Hey, it’s me.” I said.
“So, what do I do?” She asked, plainly.
“I don’t know Sona. I really don’t know how to advise you on this!”
“You’ve got to. I’ve been going out of my mind since Mobeen called. I’ve been bloody frantic.”
“Why, what did he say?”
“Nothing. He bloody well said absolutely nothing. Just that he’s coming home for the mid term holidays. He’s gonna be here for week. He’s arriving in 3 fucking hours!”
“But that’s good right? I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”
“The ‘problem’ is that I’ve done nothing but think about THAT since he called. It’s driving me nuts!”
“What? Thinking about what? I don’t get you.” I was genuinely confused.
“You know. THAT. I’ve been thinking about ‘IT’. Him. Me. Us. DO I need to fucking spell it out for you??”
“Ohhhhhh.” I said. It hadn’t been one of my most insightful moments.
“YES OOOOOOH. Now you get what I’m talking about. Fucking hell, you’re no good to me dumb!”
“OK, OK. Look just calm down. You said he’s gonna be there in 3 hours yeah?”
“So go and have a shower. You had a trim downstairs? Better yet, go for a shave. Get it all nice and clean.”
“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS????” She screamed down the line in a pitch that seemed to damage the speaker on my phone.
“Well what’s you fucking bright idea?” I asked.
“I don’t have one. That’s why I’m wasting my time talking to you.”
“Well stop wasting you time and do it. You have plenty of time.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re seriously telling me I should go through with this. I should do it with Mobeen?”
“No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying you should be prepared for the eventuality. I don’t know what you should do. Actually, I know you probably shouldn’t do it — but that’s my ‘societal morality’ talking. I personally think, whether you do or don’t. It should be something you both mutually decide. It’s no ones business but yours.”
“God, I can’t believe I’m even contemplating this.”
“This. THIS. I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about getting myself ready for him. I’m so nervous. I’m scared!”
“Calm down. You’re not doing anything for anybody just yet. Think of it this way, IF it does happen, then you want him to see you at your best, right? So that means a shower and nice hairless pussy right? It’s no different from putting on makeup.”
“Sounds to me like a big fucking difference between shaving my pussy and putting on makeup.”
“It’s not. It’s just making sure you look your best. Have you thought about what you’re going to wear?”
“Wear? No. I haven’t. I told you, my minds been frantic thinking all sorts of stupid things. What the fuck should I wear?”
“Errm… Wear something stylish but not overly sexy. You don’t want to give him the signal.”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well that fucking helps!” I replied, exasperated.
“Shut up. You know I’m confused about all this. My mind’s racing like a million miles an hour. I feel sick from nerves.”
“OK, OK, calm down. Let’s take this slowly. OK so you’re going to have a shower, shave your pubes, legs, wear some nice perfume, and do your hair up.”
“Shall I have it up or out?”
“Which do you think looks better?”
“Having it up looks more sexy. Having it out makes me look more innocent and cutesy.”
I esenyurt escort couldn’t help but smile to myself as I realised that women even had multiple categorisations of hair style.
“Have it up.”
“So, look sexy basically.”
“You sure that’s not giving the wrong signal?”
“You don’t even know what signal you want to give anyway!”
“I guess. Ok, I’ll do my hair up. OK. What next.”
“OK, next… I guess next is what you’re going to wear…”
“Shall I dress sexy too?”
“You feel more confident when you’re dressed sexy right?”
“Then do that. wear something sexy but not slutty.”
“I never dress slutty!”
“Ha-ha, ok, but you know what I mean. What would you consider sexy?”
“MMmm, halter neck?”
“Ummm, depends, is it backless?”
“Then, no. Might be too provocative. Bit too blatant.”
“You have anything off the shoulders? A sweater?”
“Yeah, sure. You think that would be better?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“I’ll have to wear a bra without shoulder straps then.”
“Why not go without?”
“Yeah, go without.”
“Yeah. Go for it. It’ll make a nice surprise for him.”
“God, it feels so naughty! You don’t think that’s going too far?”
“Ha-ha. Well, seeing as you’re already in the mindset of getting dressed up for him. You might as well throw in a couple of treats. What better treats are there for a horny lad like Mobeen to find that Mummy’s delicious boobies aren’t locked away in one of her pesky bras!”
“Oh you’re so bad. You’re getting me all hot on the idea now!”
“What? You said you’d been thinking about it non stop since he called you! Don’t pretend you haven’t been giving your little coochie a hard time fantasizing about him! I know you better than that, remember! I’m pretty sure your fingers are pretty fishy by now!”
“Oi, shut up. Don’t be disgusting. Anyway, you know I’ve been doing that. You know what I’m like. But that stuff is all fantasy! This is real!”
“And that’s why it’s more exciting isn’t it! So we agreed on an off the shoulder sweater and no bra.”
“God, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. Ok. No bra. God, it feels so naughty!”
“Ha-ha, ok. Now bottoms. Trousers? Skirt? See through panties?” I chuckled down the phone.
“Stop making fun of me!” She whined. “I think skirt. Or maybe trousers.”
“I think trousers. Not skirt.”
“Why not skirt?”
“I dunno. You prefer skirt?”
“I can show off my legs a bit in a skirt.”
“Good idea, Mobeen will like that, I think.”
“I think so too.” She replied cheekily. Despite her reservations, she was getting a thrill out of the idea of getting dressed for somebody.
“How much leg?”
“Not too much. Knee length skirt, maybe?”
“Bit higher I think.”
“I’ve got one very short one. It just about covers my bum. Never had the guts to wear it.”
“Wear that one.”
“HA-HA really? No way!”
“Yes way. Mobeen will get to see plenty of leg in that. Right up your thighs. He’ll love it.”
“Yeah but what will he think of me?”
“Don’t worry. He’ll think PHHHWWWOOOOOAAAAARRR mum is real hot in that skirt. What fantastic legs she has.”
“But he might see right up my skirt. It’s really short.”
“So? That’s good. He’ll get a sight of mummy’s pretty little shaved coochie. What wonderful sight to welcome any son home after he’s been working his ass off at Uni?”
“Now you just taking the piss.” She pouted.
“I’m not. Really. Do it.”
“What, tiny skirt and no panties? I’m barely on board with the whole ‘no-bra’ thing and you think I’m gonna go with no panties?”
“Do it. Imagine how hot it will be. Walking around in that skirt, knowing he can’t take he’s eyes off you? It’ll blow his mind!”
“Are you insane? Course it would!”
“I don’t know….”
“Well it’s up to you. You could always just wear a long skirt down to you ankles. Or even a pair of baggy trousers. Why not even wear a baggy jumper as well. For that matter don’t bother getting dressed at all and do what you usually do — make no effort when he comes down.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s true though isn’t.”
I regretted saying it as soon as the words escaped my mouth. For a long time the line went silent before I tentatively began speaking again.
“Look, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” I said apologetically.
“You’re right. It was uncalled for. But…You’re right. I never make an effort for him.” Her voice was remorseful. “Every time he comes down for the holidays he sees his mum skulking around the house, trash everywhere. It’s not right. What kind of a welcome home is that?”
“And yet he still comes down. To see his mum. Maybe you owe it to him to get dressed up a little?”
After a momentary silence I continued. “So… short skirt?”
“I’ll think about it. I’ll wear the other things but I’m not sure on that skirt. It really is very revealing. Every esenyurt eve gelen escort time I bend over my bum is on display!”
“OK, OK. Up to you. Think about it though.”
“Finally, boots? Sandals? Stilettos?… flip-flops?”
“Ha-ha, I think boots. If I go with the a skirt I’ll wear boots. If I where jeans I might just wear sandals.”
“So stilettos are out.”
“Yeah. For now at least. Maybe one day.” She added cheekily.
“Huh?” I replied, intrigued.
“Well, stilettos go nicely with some of the French lingerie I’ve got.” She chuckled seductively down the phone.
The two of us giggled cheekily together.
“OK. So you’re all set now. Go do those things. Tidy up the place a little. Get dressed and wait for you prince.”
“Ha-ha, ‘Prince Mobeen'” she smiled.
“That poor boy has no idea what’s coming to him…”
“Ha-ha… nah, I’ll take good care of my baby boy!”
“I bet you will!”
We said our goodbyes and ended the call. I had a raging hardon in my jerseys and seriously considered whacking it out and knocking one out in the car right there in the supermarket car park. Luckily, I’m slightly more measured than that and decided to took a brisk drive home instead where I unloaded in the safety and privacy of the toilet.
You might think that I thought about nothing else apart from what Sona and her son might be getting up to but you’d be wrong. I’m a family man and as soon as I’d exited the toilet, it was back to every day family duties.
You see, my relationship with Sona is completely hidden from my wife. She would, for obvious reasons, never agree to me hanging out with her. In fact most of the rumours I hear about Sona, I hear from my wife!
Time with Sona is always fleeting. Secretive phone calls and liaisons whenever I could find the time around my every day boring family life. It was like having an affair except I got no real satisfaction from it. There was plenty of excitement, but ultimately no joy.
I had all but forgotten about Sona till I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I knew it was her without even taking the phone out to look. I couldn’t answer it, not at home, so I made an excuse about throwing the recycling bins out.
As soon as I was out the front door, my fingers frantically tapped away at my phone to call her back.
“Hiya” I said, checking to see I was far enough away from the house to ensure nobody could overhear my conversation.
“Hey” She replied, her voice was a tiny whisper down the line.
“Why are you whispering?” I asked, pressing the phone close to my ear. For some curious reason I began whispering as well.
“Mobeen’s here. He’s downstairs. I don’t want him to hear me.”
“Oh, OK. What’s up?” I asked, my voice trembled a little from excitement.
“Noting yet, he got here about 10 minutes ago. He’s just sitting in the living room.”
“You just called to tell me that?”
“No, course not!”
“Then what is it? Tell me your bitch!” I chuckled down the line nervously and I could hear her giggling with me.
“I just called to say that I ended up wearing the skirt!” She grinned perversely.
“Naughty girl…” I teased
“I know! I was so nervous… Still am!”
“Well, what did he think?”
“He didn’t say anything but I saw him check me out. He was trying to be discreet but I could tell.” She said excitedly before adding in barely a whisper: “I think he got a bit of a hardon!”
“Ha-ha, how can you tell?”
“I can’t be sure. But he seemed to move a bit funny and he wouldn’t face me when I went to hug him.”
“Ha-ha, I guess he did get excited then. OK. So what are you doing talking to me? Shouldn’t you be downstairs with him?”
“I should. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t know why but I sort of just panicked and left the room.”
“I don’t know. It felt a bit tense. He wasn’t expecting me to be so dressed up. He probably feels weird.”
“Maybe. What you going to do?”
“I dunno. What should I do?”
“Fat fucking lot of good you are then!”
“OK, slow down. Calm yourself.” I chuckled. “There’s nothing to worry about. Ok. So you’re dressed sexy. You’ve got all prepared for this. Just go downstairs and sit with him. But make any excuse to get up and walk in and out of the room. Those are his chances to check you out. Sway a little as you do. Smile. Don’t make it obvious. Just give him a chance to check out those sexy smooth legs.”
“Ok, then what?”
“Just see how that goes. It’ll build up the tension.”
“OK, I’ll do that. God, this is so naughty!”
“Ha-ha. Hey, are you wearing panties?”
“Course I’m wearing panties!”
“Take them off!”
“Do it! You’ve come this far. Just take them off. It’s no big deal.”
“But he’ll see… ME!”
“So? That’s sort of the point. Let him have a look. He’ll love it. He’ll get horny cos he thinks he’s getting a sneaky peek.”
“You think so?”
“Course he will!”
“I don’t know… I mean, I’ll basically be working around showing off my pussy to my own son!”
“No. Your little nicely-shaved coochie will still be tucked away quietly under your skirt. It’s not your fault that the skirt rides up. And it’s not your fault if Mobeen takes a peek. Come on. Don’t tell me part of you doesn’t want to show it off a little?”
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