More than Forbidden Ch. 01

tagIncest/TabooMore than Forbidden Ch. 01

Bailey
I woke up with the flavor of last night's wine in my mouth. Thanks to my stepson, Trevor, making me sober up before going to sleep, only a minor headache accompanied the sour taste. My morning shower took care of most of the problem. A little breakfast and a couple of aspirin would leave me feeling fine.
Trevor beat me to the kitchen this morning and crunched a bowl of cereal with a glass of milk. "Good morning, sweetie."
"Morning, mom."
"Thanks for bringing me home from Sally's and making me clear my head before bed. This morning could have turned out a lot more painful."
"You quit drinking just in time," he told me. "Another glass or two, and nothing would have helped."
Something tickled the back of my mind. "I remember saying some dumb things last night, I just don't remember what."
"I wouldn't worry about it."
"That bad?"
"Not really. You asked me a few personal questions, though."
"I did? Like what?"
"Really, mom. Don't worry about it."
I wanted to know. I didn't drink to excess often and wanted a glimpse of my drunken mind. "Just tell me, Trev."
He flashed an ornery smile. "I'll tell you the answers," he said. "Six-and-a-quarter, zero, and yes."
My face flushed with embarrassment. It didn't take a mind reader to figure out the first one. But the zero and yes? I asked him.
"I can tell by your face you got the first one. You asked the length of my penis. You also asked how many times I've had sex."
That puzzled me. A good-looking boy with dark hair and muscles everywhere shouldn't have a problem in that department. Maybe he wanted it that way for now. "What about the yes?"
"You do not want to remember that one," he said.
"When you say that, I absolutely do."
He shook his head. "Drop it, mom. Trust me."
Now I had to know. "Spill it, young man."
"Are you sure?" he asked, stalling.
I nodded.
His face turned beet red, and he stared into his cereal bowl as he spoke. "You asked if I ever fantasize about you."
That poor boy. I'd asked the size of his manhood, his virginity status, and if he fantasized about his mother. I felt happy he hadn't left the house this morning, let alone talked to me. "I am so sorry, honey. Please forgive me."
He took his bowl to the sink, rinsed it, and put it in the dishwasher. "Nothing to forgive." He moved toward the hallway.
"Thanks, baby." Wait a minute! Six-and-a-quarter, zero, and yes. Yes! My son had admitted to fantasizing about me. "Hold on a sec, Trev. Let's talk."
His head drooped, and his shoulders slumped. "About what?"
"About that third answer," I told him.
"Can't we just forget about it? Please?"
"You have me curious. Sit back down and tell me about these fantasies."
"Mom!"
"Come on, sweetie. I won't judge. Promise." I might get a little nauseous, but I wouldn't judge.
"Fine." He sat back down and took a deep breath. "Sometimes I think about you when I, uh, you know."
"When you masturbate?"
"Yes, mom. When I masturbate. Happy?"
Not happy, but not bothered, either. A little shocked at first, but that passed quickly. "I told you I wouldn't judge."
"Well, thanks for that, I guess."
"It's natural for a boy to have a crush on his mommy," I said to reassure him.
"An eighteen-year-old?"
"At any age," I told him. "What do you like to think about?"
"Geez, mom. Really?"
"You've already admitted you think of me when you masturbate," I said. "And let's not forget, I started it."
"Okay, but you can't get mad."
I crossed my heart. "Promise."
"Mostly I think about you in your bikini and try to imagine you taking it off."
I smiled. "You like my body?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever imagined more?"
His face flushed a deeper red. "A few times."
"Like what?"
"I like to imagine a romantic evening, candlelight dinner, dancing, you know."
I made an mmm sound. "I hope you get a goodnight kiss at the end."
"And a good morning kiss, too," he told me. It seemed the dam around his embarrassment had broken.
"Here in the kitchen?"
"In bed."
My mind froze for several seconds. "Excuse me?" I asked when I could speak again.
"In bed," he said. "After a night of making love."
Okay. I had to know it ended this way. How could I not? But up until this moment, I'd managed to keep my fantasy simple. Just a boy with a crush on mom. Even the masturbation didn't bother me. Boys did that. But they didn't imagine having sex with their mothers. Or admit to it, at least.
"You promised not to get mad," Trevor said, breaking the spell.
"Oh, honey, never," I told him. "I feel flattered. A little stunned, but flattered."
"It doesn't gross you out?"
"Not at all. It's natural for a man to include sex when he thinks about romance."
"I keep it respectful," he said. "Nothing crazy."
Nothing crazier than making love to the woman who raised him from the second day of his life. "I never doubted it."
"What about you? Have you ever had that fantasy?"
"No, but with a horny virgin packing six-plus inches in the house, I imagine I'll have more than a few."
"Cool. I'm just glad you're not mad or grossed out."
I knew I should feel one or the other, or both maybe, but I actually felt a little turned on. "Oh, honey, I'm surprised you find your old mom worth a fantasy like that."
"Thirty-six isn't old," he said. "And you have a body better than most of the girls my age."
I worked hard to look nice, to find the perfect combination of fit, but still soft and curvy. "I guess it depends on what you like."
"Curves, but not fat. And not skinny, either," he said.
"I certainly fit that description. Now. "I carried a few too many pounds when I met your father," I said.
"Really? You?"
"Yep. I lost them for the wedding and managed to keep them off. Even during the divorce."
"Well, whatever you did, it worked."
"Thanks, sweetie. And thank you for your openness this morning."
"I kind of wanted you to know."
Uh-oh. "Yeah? How come?"
"It makes it seem less dirty. But I'll quit if you want."
"Love is never dirty, honey."
"But it's incest."
Technically not. We didn't share any blood. But I understood where he came from. I'd taken over his care the day after my cheating husband's secretary gave birth to him. "Honey, you know I'm not your biological mother." Hopefully, that would ease his mind.
"That's how I saw it. But I wanted to make sure," he said. "I mean, you're the only mom I've ever had or ever wanted, but it kept me from feeling gross."
"Well, don't you worry. And I promise to have a fantasy or two about you," I said, making a joke.
He smiled. "Thanks, mom."
"Go get cleaned up," I said. "We'll go out to lunch."
He started to leave but stopped. "Hey, mom?"
"Hey, Trev?"
"Do you think we ever could?" he asked. "Make our fantasies real?"
"I don't know, honey. That's an awfully big step."
He nodded. "Could I take a picture of you in your bikini?"
I sighed to hide my chuckle. I should say no and send him to his room, but what could it hurt. "I plan to sunbathe by the pool after lunch. Just don't tell me why you want it." I gave him a wink.
"Thanks!"
"And Trev?"
"Yeah, mom?"
"You know we have to keep this to ourselves. You can't mention it to a soul."
"Sheesh, I'm not stupid, mom."
"No, I guess not," I said, looking into his eyes. "Get cleaned up and decide where you want to eat."
Well, that qualified as the most interesting conversation I'd had in quite some time. Most moms never knew when their boys lost their virginity, let alone when they hadn't. My son had not only admitted his inexperience, he admitted to having thoughts of physical intimacy with me.
How far did his fantasy go, I wondered? Did he imagine the lovemaking like some prime-time TV show? Or did he imagine plunging deep inside me and shooting my womb full of his hot, young seed?
Six-and-a-quarter inches didn't make him a porn star, but it took him out of the average range. At least according to the Internet. He had his father beaten by half an inch, and it sounded big to me. Especially if it had some girth. After almost four years without a lover, it sounded great.
I slowed my daydreams and replayed our conversation. I probably should have shut him down the second he mentioned having fantasies involving me, but I didn't work that way. And I didn't think his fantasies would hurt anything. I'd told the truth about boys developing crushes for their mothers, although it usually happened at a younger age. And I believed, especially at his age, thoughts of romance inevitably included physical intimacy.
But I could have stayed guardedly neutral, and neither approved nor condoned his thoughts. Instead, I'd given him free rein to imagine bedding his mother while he massaged his manhood. Why did I do that?
The answer rested in the heat between my legs, the wetness soaking my panties. As he shared his desires, he ignited my own deep within me. I'd wanted to hear more, to drop my panties and massage myself as I pictured him doing those things to me. Dinner and dancing, topped with a vigorous roll in the sheets and a good morning kiss to boot. What woman could resist a fantasy like that?
As long as it stayed a fantasy, I saw nothing wrong with it. I might have to put up with him looking at me more openly, now that I knew his secret, but I could live with that. I might even start checking him out a little less circumspectly.
I hated that I couldn't tell anyone. Instinct and habit told me to run to Jeanine's and give her the scoop. Best friends for over a decade, we shared everything. But not this.
Well, a girl needed to keep a few secrets, and this one felt worth keeping. I wondered if Jeanine would understand? Did she ever have these kinds of thoughts about her son? He didn't work out or have the body Trev did, but he possessed a keen intellect and a good heart. A girl could do a lot worse.
I stopped myself. A few minutes ago, my son told me he wanted to have sex with me, and now I wondered what my best friend would think and what kind of lay her son would make.
In the end, I decided it didn't matter. Lewis shared age and grade with my son, but he lacked Trevor's maturity. I blamed it on all the time he spent playing video games instead of going out with friends. No, I could never. Which made me laugh. I couldn't even tell you what it would take to make it happen with Trevor.
The fantasy would just have to remain a fantasy. Trevor could abuse himself silly thinking of everything he wanted to do with me. I even planned to indulge in a few bath time adventures of my own, starring him. He'd go to college in the fall, find some tight young thing who tickled his fancy and forget he ever thought those things about me. We just needed to make it through the summer together, and I expected no problems. Trev had a good head on his shoulders.
Hearing his shower finish, I went to the master bath. Normally, I spent five, maybe six minutes under the spray. Today, it took me twenty, and I gave the handheld showerhead a workout it hadn't seen in a month.
I used the spray and my fingers to start the tingle, then relaxed and watched the sparklers. Finally, for the finale, they connected in a gigantic explosion that short-circuited my brain. My knees went weak, and it took a lot to stay upright.
The release felt wonderful. And it left me with a ravenous appetite. I hope Trevor wanted steaks, because I had a sudden urge for a medium-rare ribeye with a loaded baked potato, and a salad to make me feel better about it. I might even ask him to split a dessert with me.

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