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Hello Everyone,

Let me start by saying that I find writing for social media tedious. As a college graduate, I think on a level above what SEO optimization demands that I use for my writing. Please think of this more as a dialect, as natural for me as a southern accent, or the jargon used by someone hailing from the hood. I am not saying that I am better, because in this instance it almost works like a handicap. Regardless, I make a sincere effort to get the grammar correct, because, for those with rudimentary english skills, it translates more easily.

But enough about my personal challenges. I am sure that you are reading this looking for insight into the more intimate aspects of my life. I have learned via multiple correspondences, what is the most insatiable curiosity. The question on everyone's mind, how did my son and I become incestuous lovers ?

Since I can remember, I’ve always had a very strong attraction towards the males in my immediate family. When I was much younger, I masturbated and fantasized many times about my father and as they got older, even my brothers. But my lustful thoughts were primarily focused on my dad. To this day, if my dad made even the slightest gesture of reciprocation, I would be out of my clothes and on him. I’ve had some really twisted fantasies about my dad, many have included getting pregnant. But, today I would just settle for sex with my progenitor, because I'm done raising kids.

Both my sons are adults. My incestuous attraction towards them, was never there before I truly saw them as adults, and that didn't happen just because they turned 18. Mainstream society has a collective interpretation of incest as involving an adult grooming or abusing an innocent. Rest assured, I have never had any interest in minors, and I condemn all abuse inflicted upon them.

My oldest used to steal my panties from the laundry hamper and my youngest always found ways to sneak a peek at me when I was changing my clothes, in the shower, or pretty much anytime I might be naked. I never made an issue about their curiosities or their masturbation. It was never my intention to encourage or discourage them sexually in any way. As for myself, I knew when one of them had a wet dream because I changed their bed sheets.

Everyone knows about how the world went insane in 2019. I found myself having to move 2000 miles because of both my work and finances. At the time. George was living with his father and although we regularly spoke to each other, we didn’t see each other very often. But luck played into this because he found an internship near me. So, he came and lived with me.

The first 2 months of living together were uneventful. He flirted with me, but that was really nothing new. On the other hand, I’m a very affectionate and physical person and I touch and hug others all the time. With my family, I’ve always done things like hold their hands, rest my head on their shoulders and just generally be very physically loving towards them.

From what I’m finding out, it seems that incestuous women are very much like me. So, sons… if your mom is very affectionate like me, she just might be willing to be more loving still. You know the old saying, « Incest is best, so put your mother to the test. »

From my experience, I feel that incestuous sex is the very best sex possible. I personally never considered incest as taboo, but the thoughts of it still sends my head spinning. So I can only imagine what it does to someone who’s titillated by it. It’s seriously emotional high when the body that exited your vagina, enters it again.

At one point my son’s work was right next door to mine. We would leave for work together, have lunch together and come home together. In the evenings, we'd unwind together in front of the TV. Again, with me being very affectionate I would frequently lean up against him.

This entire incest adventure officially started when I laid down and put my head on George’s lap. Normally, I would have laid down the opposite direction, but I just didn’t feel like getting up to get a pillow from the bedroom. Within moments of getting comfortable I fell into a light sleep.

With my eyes still closed, I became aware that my son was very gently touching one of my breasts. It wasn’t a full grab but more of a small soft caress. It was so subtle that he could have easily say he wasn’t doing anything if I confronted him. But just the same, there was this gentle touch and it was clear that he was focusing on the area of my nipple. This really excited me and I could feel myself getting wet, but I didn’t do anything. Instead I just laid there, with my eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep.

It was about 10pm when we finally went to bed, I was super horny. I was jilling off for over 20 minutes and came twice. I woke up around 2:30 am and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Sitting at the kitchen table, I had a little mental talk with myself.

I’ve had this obsession with incest all my life. When I was married, I used to secretly make believe that my husband was my older brother who'd been given up for adoption before I was born. Actually, I made believe that with a few old boyfriends too. I just couldn’t have an orgasm, unless I was imagining whoever was fucking me was somehow related. Needless to say, my excitement having my son play with my breast didn’t surprise me.

I assured myself that I’m not a bad person. Growing up I never done anything sexual with my brothers or my dad, apart from trying to sneak a peek of them naked. With my sons, I absolutely never had any thoughts about seducing them. I’m a good mother and not a predator or abuser. Therefore, there was no way in hell was I going to start pursuing my son, despite him now being a legal aged adult.

It was about this time that it occurred to me that my incestuous cravings might be genetic. If my son had inherited this, it was no longer an issue of my self control. If he was suffering with the same needs that I do, then having sex wouldn’t be a big deal. So I decided that I wouldn't encourage or discourage him. Instead I was going to make everything easier, and be available for him to pursue if he chose to.

The next evening, I made sure that I took off my bra and put on a blouse that had a habit of opening at the top 2 buttons. Once again, I rested my head on his lap and allowed myself to doze off again. Once more, I woke when he went for my breast and focused in on my nipple. With my eyes again closed, I was thinking to myself, « Just go for it ! Grab my tit and let’s do it. » But he didn’t progress past making tiny circles through the cloth.

I was like a cat in heat and climbing my bedroom walls. Masturbation wasn’t working and I eventually ended up having to take a cold shower. But once again, even after I made sure that 3 and not just 2 buttons on my blouse were undone, my son never outright fondled me. These little gentle caresses were driving me crazy, filling me was angry resentment. I wanted him to either go for it or stop it, because this limbo was hell.

A week of this passed but I decided to persevere. This time I decided that I was at least going to be comfortable so I tossed the blouse, because it wasn’t working anyway, and put on one of my night shirts. As usual, I lightly dozed with my head on his leg and waited for the torment my nipple game to begin. But it changed this time and he began to squeeze my other breast. He was so careful and his touches were so light that had I not been expecting him to touch me that I would have slept right through this. In the meantime I was thinking, « It’s up to you… How far is this going to go ? » The sad answer was that it was going no where.

Another several days of this passed, and all the sexual frustration was taking it's toll on me. I was now beyond an bundle of excitement, I was just plain exhausted. So instead of being on my side facing the TV, I rolled on my back and went to sleep. I was out like a light for a good hour. When I did finally start to wake, I discovered my son’s hand under my nightshirt and directly playing with my breasts. Again, gently playing with my nipples with the occasional squeeze. I consoled myself that there had been some progress, because at least now I could feel the direct heat of his hand against my flesh.

A couple of minutes of this fondling passed and then he started to subtly move his hand down my body. First he went from my boobs to my stomach and then to just above my panties. This started to excite me and it took all my effort to control my breathing like I was still sleeping.

The next 30 or so minutes seemed so long. Instead of trying to rest his hand on top of my pussy, he was trying to slide it under my panties. I was so damn mad at myself for not removing them too. But I had decided somewhere in my psyche that doing so might be too aggressive, or too seductive for him to resist. Luckily, it was just a pair of ordinary cotton ones and not a pair that he would have to actually stretch to get under.

First he got his finger tips under the elastic waistband, just making contact with my pubic hair. Then little by little he slid his hand lower between my legs. Inside in my head, I was literally cheering for him. « Finger me and I’ll rock your world. » I honestly thought that to myself.

But he stopped just before my clitoris. I don’t know how long I waited for him to continue but his hand didn’t budge. He was literally less than a 1/ 4 of an inch away from directly touching my button, but instead chose to do nothing. Had this been any man other than my son and we would have already had sex.

My son was obviously looking for sex with me. So I took note of the situation and thought up a way to help things along. His one arm was across my body with his hand in my crotch. I could move my arm closest to him and put my hand over his so that he doesn’t pull it away. If I pressed down, he should start fingering me. Then at the same time with my other hand, I should reach up and stroke his face. This seemed like a good plan and I went for it.

It was a incredible plan !

He leaned forward opening his mouth to kiss me and the instant I saw that, I moved upwards to meet him. We softly kissed for maybe 10 seconds, but then things got really wild, really quick. With our lips locked, I slid into his lap, as he managed to unbuckle his pants and pull his cock out. He was already hard and poking up against my pussy. I pulled my panties to the side and he started pushing up to penetrate me, as I was coming down on him to impale myself.

All my life, I had wanted to experience incestuous sex and here I was with my son deep inside me. He later admitted to dreaming about me and his sister from a very young age too. It seems that incestuous desires can be passed down from parent to offspring.

I was orgasming within seconds, and my son didn’t last long either. My arms were wrapped around his head as I sat in his lap with him still inside me. It was just long enough for us to catch our breathes and then we both wordlessly got up and went into my bedroom. Our clothes made a trail from the sofa to the bed and we immediately started copulating again. My son was still hard, and this time I was on my back, feeling his body weight on me as the head of his cock ground into my cervix. Our sex wasn’t fucking and it wasn’t making love. It was hunger, we both needed this kind of intimacy and we were both finally having our needs satisfied.

The next morning I had some mixed emotions. It was no surprise that I didn’t feel any guilt or shame, like we had done something wrong. My concern was purely on how my son was going to be now, how would he treat me, now that he had sex with his mom. So I made a pot of coffee and told myself, that we should talk.

My son came to the kitchen table just about the time that the coffee was done brewing. He was naked and I took that as a good sign. He sat down at the table with a goofy grin on his face then finally said, « good morning mom… I hope you slept well. » I laughed and asked the question if he was OK with what happened. He responded with a joke, but I made him get serious for a moment. The big mother and son had incestuous sex discussion didn’t even last 2 minutes.

It was Saturday and I had a few things to do. My son tagged along and we did some grocery shopping, plus visited a friend of mine. There was nothing out of the ordinary with us, nothing had changed. About the only thing that happened with a little bit of flirting and longer than normal kiss in the car. Otherwise, we were still just good old fashion mother and son.

Of course, when we got home we ended up having sex again. In fact, we had a lot of sex that weekend, but it wasn't the hunger like it was the first night. It was far more playful and the incest taboo became a bit of a sexual joke. For us, we are just family with benefits.