IncForum (2003-2018) was a little-known internet forum dedicated to the open-minded discussion of incestuous relationships. For the most part, it was a judgment-free zone. A place for users to freely share their personal experiences, confess old secrets, and feel less alone in their yearning.

Frankly, there were some pretty hot threads on that little-known forum. Unfortunately, it's long gone now.

It went kaput when Adam - the forum's founder and lead admin - seemingly snapped out of the blue and purged everything before vanishing.

A veritable incest library of Alexandria disappeared overnight without so much as a puff of smoke. Melodramatic? Only a little bit. It was a real shame, though.

Here's the silver lining: I have a personally curated collection of posts archived on my hard drive. And I think it's about time I shared my stash.
— Kensi

Keeping Secrets with Mommy

Posted by TheMadFreak69 on 7/5/2012 at 8:47 am

So, how do I go about starting one of these posts? The same way everyone else does, I suppose. Hi, KinkForum.

You might recognise me by my username. I've been a regular around here for a while—mostly just reading about everyone's unique experiences with inc-relationships. But I've also offered some advice here and there when I felt it was appropriate. If you peruse my account history, you'll spot that I have developed somewhat of a crush - I guess I'd call it that - on my mother. It was all just a fantasy—never to be acted upon. Until now.

I guess what I'm saying is that I never thought I'd be the one sharing my incest experience and asking for input, but here we are.

Alright, here it is. Something weird happened last night—fuck, it feels surreal just typing this, but I had sex with my mom, okay? Full-blown penis-in-vagina sex! She also sucked my damn cock. So, yeah, there it is. I guess I am quite literally in the motherfucker club now.

Here's how it all went down. I know you pervs like the details—and I'll try my best to oblige.

**\*

My bedroom door whined open, rousing me from sleep. The glowing display of my digital alarm clock was the first thing I saw—telling me it was 3 o'clock in the morning. I heard the door creak shut.

"H—Hello?" I whispered, drifting abruptly into the consciousness. Silence. I leaned up onto my elbows and squinted into the answering darkness. A vague, blurry silhouette crept slowly towards me across the room. For a moment, I assumed I must have been dreaming. But as my eyes adjusted, the slow-moving shape gradually took on a familiar form.

"Mom?" I croaked.

"Shhhh," she hissed in response. "Your d-dad's... sl—eeping on the couch downstairs," she not-quite-whispered, slurring her words.

Great, I thought, she's drunk again.

Late-night box wine was becoming quite the habit for her as of late, but this - coming into my room in the middle of the night - was entirely new behaviour.

She loomed at the foot of my bed, gazing down at me.

"Alright," I muttered. I was confused but decided to play along, matching her muted volume. The thinking part of my brain was waking up by then, and several pertinent questions presented themselves all at once. I reached for the most obvious one first. "What are you doing, Mom? Is everything... okay?"

"You've... grown so much in 19 years," she whispered with a hic. The tone of her evasive non-answer sounded almost suggestive. It provided no exact explanation while vaguely hinting at several remote possibilities. Or maybe that was all in my sex-starved head?

"Yeah..." I said, groping for words and only finding that one. Weird vibes wafted over me, along with the scent of cheap box wine. What the fuck was happening? I settled on a non-comital, "Thanks, Mom."

She just looked at me, smiling vacantly.

I momentarily tore my attention away from her and groped for my glasses on the nightstand. I put them on, and my vision sharpened. Then, I twisted the dimmer switch on my bedside lamp, shedding a fuzzy yellow light on the murky situation.

Mom stood at the edge of my bed now, swaying unsteadily. For a moment, I thought she might collapse on top of me and pass out. She wore a pink, kimono-style gown tied loosely around her wide hips; it split open at the top, revealing just enough cleavage to let me know she wasn't wearing a bra. I licked my lips.

It took me a long moment to realise, but I was blatantly gaping at her pressed-together cleavage. I clenched my jaw and felt my cheeks heat up. I sheepishly glanced up, only to see my mom's plump cheeks dimpling as she regarded me with a smouldering smirk.

Fuck, she was a mess. She looked like she had just finished picking a fight with a squirrel that she lost. Her black hair was a tangled, spidery nest. Her blue eyes were red and puffy—as if she had been crying not too long ago. I also noticed that she applied some red lipstick—probably after she got plastered, going by how uneven it looked. But she was hot enough for the clumsy makeup work to only make her look vaguely clownish.

"Mom?" I said, still whispering. "How much have you had to drink?"

"So—" she hiccuped and reached out one soft hand to palm my lightly stubbled cheek. "—Handsome."

As good as her delicate touch felt, I gently plucked her hand from my face, stroking it softly. "Thanks, Mom... are you ok—"

"He doesn't love me anymore, Jay," Mom wailed, cutting me off. Tears shimmered in her eyes.

Of course, I knew at once who the 'he' in question was. My father was a relatively cold, joyless man—always more concerned with carrying on affairs and working than paying attention to his wife and son.

It should suffice to say that my parents' marriage had always been problematic, going back as far as I could remember—about 19 years. They recently took the plunge into marriage counselling. When they told me about it, I thought it was about 19 years too late, but a good idea nonetheless. I even got my hopes up a little. Maybe professional help was what they needed? I hoped so. But paradoxically, the counselling just seemed to make everything so much worse. It got to the point where awkward arguments lurked in every conversation, and they opted to sleep in separate beds.

I looked at my mother. She looked at me. I felt like I should say something comforting. "Maybe... he just—" I have no what I was going to say. I was making it up as I went along. Before I could figure it out, Mom blessedly cut me off again.

"And I don't... love him, either," she sighed loftily. "Not anymore."

That put paid to my useless babblings.

A heavy silence settled between us. We were wading through uncharted territory here. What was I supposed to say to something like that? Mom and I didn't really have conversations of this nature—y'know, about heavy shit. It just didn't happen. Maybe now that I was grown (to use her word), I was considered a worthy confidant? Or, perhaps more likely, she was having a drunken breakdown, and I was all she had. Regardless, the situation cried out for a delicate touch, and I wasn't sure I was up to the task.

Mom flopped down onto the edge of my twin-sized bed, landing heavily with an exaggerated little 'oomph' noise. She somehow seemed so small and vulnerable at that moment. My nose wrinkled as the sour, fruity scent of wine intensified.

"Oh, god," she giggled and clasped both hands over her pretty face. "What the fuck am I doing here?"

"I dunno, Mom," I answered honestly. "Maybe you just needed some company?" I sat up, pushed the sheets away and swung my legs over the edge of the bed to sit beside her, dressed in nothing except some ratty old boxer shorts.

"Yeah," she said, her tone dripping with scepticism. She regarded me with an intense, cryptic expression that felt enormously meaningful. "Maybe that's it." Her blue eyes fell down my body, making me blush and squirm. She grinned, showing a flash of radiant, white teeth. I somehow got the impression that my embarrassment brought her amusement.

"Hold me," she muttered.

I wavered before tentatively wrapping an arm around her. She didn't hesitate to lean into my embrace and rest her head on my chest.

"Oh, wow," she gasped. I quivered a little when her soft hands suddenly began to explore my torso, pressing testingly against muscle mass. "My little guy... is a b-big, strong man now," she cooed, adopting that vaguely patronising tone all mothers had at their disposal. "Y'know, I'm sooo p-proud of you, Jay."

"Thanks, Mom... Compliments to the chef," I muttered awkwardly, trying not to let on how good it felt to be caressed and massaged by her hands. I could feel my body hair standing on end as goosebumps spread over touch-starved flesh.

Mom giggled. "Y'know," she went on, her voice lifting into a resonant purr as she bounced between different strands of frayed thought. "You're... going to be a better h-husband than your father ever was?"

"M-maybe," I stammered, feeling awkward and uneasy.

"No," Mom hissed, running a hand down my abs. "You are." Her fingertips brushed down to the edge of my underwear. I held my breath. Her touch before she abruptly pulled away and gazed up at me with blue intensity.

"I—l-love you," she said, regarding me with an expectant, weighty expression.

"I love you, too, Mom," I exhaled, answering without thought.

Mom's expression broke into a grin, her eyes crinkling. "I know you do," she exclaimed. Then, she broke into somewhat maniacal laughter. She looked like a damn crazy person!

"Shhh," I urged, signalling for quiet by raising a finger to my lips. "You're gonna wake Dad!" How would we explain this?

"No," Mom said, still giggling as she pushed away from me. "You don't understand... I know you do, Jay."

"Huh?" The situation was surreal, like something out of a wet dream. Maybe I was dreaming, after all? It wouldn't have been the first time I dreamt of her like this.

"I know you... want me," she added, smiling up at me with a wild, conspiratorial glint in her eyes.

I felt my eyes widen. "What?" I choked—my mind was racing, yet that was the only word that presented itself. My heart thundered in my chest, and I suddenly felt very queasy. She knew?!

"You. Want. Me," Mom said, stressing every word. "I've seen you looking... at these." She pressed her pale breasts together so that they threatened to spill out of her gown. Then, her hands sailed down her thick curves, stopping at her wide hips.

She knew.

"You also like my ass... don't you?" She asked, smacking her outer thigh to emphasise the question. "I've caught you peeping... whenever I bent over and gave you a glimpse of my panties."

Oh god, what the fuck?! She knew.

I averted my gaze and suddenly discovered an intense fascination with the ceiling. At the time, it barely registered that Mom had just confessed to purposefully showing off for me. That's a thought worth exploring... At the time, however, I stammered, "I—I... uhm—" As you can see, eloquence is my middle name. I mean, honestly, how was I supposed to respond?!

Yes, my mother wasn't being delusional. It was true. I had stolen the occasional glance here and there—one look at my profile would show as much. Mom wasn't just hot for a 45-year-old—she was hot, period. She had a gorgeous face, nice tits and an even better ass. But I didn't think she had ever caught me staring; all that time, I thought I was being subtle!

"Mom—" I muttered.

"Shhhh," Mom purred, cutting me off. "It's okay... I don't mind... I—I like it!"

"You've been drinking," I said, trying - and failing - to focus solely on her face.

"Just a little," her nice big tits rippled when she giggled.

"And... you're not thinking straight," I added.

"Yes, I am, baby," Mom bit her bottom lip and lured my attention to her hands by toying with the single knot holding her clingy pink gown together. "I've had these thoughts sober."

"No," I retorted, inching away from her. "You're not."

Mom gave pursuit, crawling after me along the bed on her hands and knees.

"Hold me again," she demanded. And before I could respond, she took my arm in her hands and wrapped it around her shoulders, pressing herself close.

My mind set itself on fire, trying to comprehend what was happening. I drew Mom closer, operating on obedient instinct—and maybe a little curiosity. How far would she take all this? How far would I let it go?

"Good boy," she purred. Her warm, wine-scented breath washed over my naked flesh, making me shiver. Then, she leaned in and pressed her plump lips to my chest, imparting a wet, red ring. The sensation caused my breath to hitch in my throat. Mom giggled, kissing me again.

"You like that?" she said before planting a messy trail of red kisses all the way up to my shoulder.

I did like it. Fuck. I really did. It must have been written all over my face. I was in heaven.

I pinched my eyes shut and felt Mom's elegant fingers curling confidently around my thigh before sweeping upwards to palm the bulging outline of my cock. She gave it a little squeeze. "He seems to like it," she whispered mischievously—her lips were only inches from my ear; her tickling breath was warm and moist.

I grunted and tensed before melting into the caress. By this point, I was too stunned to do anything but let events take their course.

"Oh yeah," she purred and clicked her tongue, "he definitely likes it."

I could practically hear her wicked smile. And to my surprise, I could feel myself nodding along to the sultry cadence of her drunken words. She began to massage me through my underwear—slender fingers rubbing back and forth, tracing the outline of my pulsing manhood, paying extra attention to my tip.

"Oh, look... he's leaking," Mom giggled proudly.

I opened my eyes, looked down and saw an embarrassing dark patch saturating the ratty material of my boxer shorts. "Uhm—y-yeah," I stammered dully.

"Can I take him out?" She asked suddenly.

I pulled away from her a little and stared. She gazed back at me, smiling serenely. Fuck. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say yes, please take it out, Mom! Instead, I said, "What about Dad?"

"What about him?" She responded, blithely shrugging her slender shoulders. "You know how long it's been since I sucked a cock?" She produced a scrunchy from her wrist and gathered her wild, black hair into a spidery bun.

"And besides," she began, regarding me with a cool - almost sober - expression, "has Mommy ever let you down or led you astray?"

"No," I admitted as much readily. "Not—not that I can think of."

"So, trust me... I know you'll enjoy this." She grinned. "I know you want it as much as I do."

Again, at the time, I was too dazed for the gravity of her words to sink in properly—Mom wanted me?! All I could think of was that I did want it. I wanted it desperately. And enjoying it wasn't even the problem. No, the problem was living with myself afterwards—to say nothing of living with Dad. I thought for a moment - probably with my cock more than my head - and then I nodded my permission and consent.

Mom pounced on my consent without hesitation. "Gooood boy," she purr-slurred, sliding off the bed and landing heavily between my legs. "Let Mommy take care of you." Her delicate fingers curled into the waistband of my underwear and unceremoniously hoisted them down my hairy legs. My mind went blank—it was happening. Oh fuck, it was actually - finally - happening. It wasn't at all how I imagined it in any of my wildest fantasies, but I did not give a single fuck.

My cock sprung free. It was already pulsing-hard and ready to go. Honestly, it's nothing too impressive. Five and a half inches, maybe six if you press the ruler down far enough—but it was thick enough that my fingers could barely wrap around. Mom looked at it like it was the finest masculine specimen of love-making she had ever seen—her eyes twinkled like a gambler who just won big on a risky turn of the cards (or uncrating of the loot box, whatever).

"Oh, wooow," she reached out a hand, then caught herself before actually breaking the touch boundary. She looked up at me, batting her lashes prettily. "Can I... please touch it, baby?"

I nodded without thinking—finding no steady breath for carefully considered words. I wanted nothing except for Mom to touch it. I was thinking about nothing else. I'm sure my facial expression also conveyed nothing else.

Mom giggled, reached out a dainty hand and confidently wrapped slender fingers as far around my shaft as they could reach—throttling it in a pleasantly firm grasp.

"Ugh, g-god—fuck," I mumbled.

Mom's clasp was soft, hot and tight. She began to twist it up and down my length, varying her grip every time her slow, deliberate rhythm brought her back to the angry-red head. "Been a while since I gave anyone a handjob," she smirked. "Is this alright, baby? Or do you like it faster?" She swapped hands and began to pump more insistently.

I followed the up-down motion with vacant, cloudy eyes—hypnotised by pleasure. "That—feels fuckin' amazing," I managed to breathe. I wasn't lying, either.

"Yeah?" Mom beamed. Maybe there was a note of relief in her tone—it was hard to tell. "Hey..." She looked up at me, eyes glinting with devilish intent. "You know what's better than a handjob?" She wordlessly answered her own question by lowering her head and taking my stiff prick in her warm, eager mouth.

"Argh, f—uuuck," I seethed through clenched teeth. "Mom..."

She only moaned around my cock in response. Then, she began to suckle on me. Just the tip, at first. She nursed on it with her plump lips, and writhed her twisting, twirling tongue clumsily around it. Her mouth was hungry. With her lips sealed around my cock, she began to nurse on it—seemingly making the action as sloppy and noisy as possible as she engulfed inch after inch, bobbing her head.

"Mmm," Mom moaned as she pulled off, replacing her mouth with a firm, pumping grasp. "You can put your hands... on the back of my head to encourage me, baby," she said, gazing serenely up at me and winking.

I blinked. "H—Huh?" My thoughts were racing yet somehow getting nowhere fast. I was getting lost in the effort of watching my mother stroke lipstick-dyed throat slime up and down my cock.

Mom giggled and grabbed my hands, bringing them to rest on the back of her head. "Get a good grip," she told me, eyes flickering with something I couldn't place in my haze.

Her hair was velvet-soft. I let it spill through my digits and pressed my fingertips against her scalp.

"Good boy," Mom purred. "Show me what you want..." With that, she engulfed my cock again—forcing the grip of her plump lips to stretch as they glided down my thick, veiny shaft. Her tongue flattened and morphed to cradle my manhood as she took it into the velvet massage of her throat.

"Ohhhh—f-fuck..." I writhed, tightening my grip on Mom's soft black reins. A few moments later, I felt her try to rise, but I pressed her back down.

"Mmmmf..." Mom complained, but she graciously acquiesced to my wordless demand—looking up at me with approval and tears glistening in her gorgeous eyes.

I began to buck my hips, lancing myself into her stretched mouth. "Take it," I heard myself hiss in an unfamiliar tone.

Mom scrunched her eyes closed and took it as I clumsily violated her spasming throat. It was only when she pushed away from me with her hands that I let her go.

"Shiiiit," she slurred. A string of phlegm joined my manhood to her lips. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and sucked down a rasping breath. "Wanna fuck your mother with this thing, baby boy?"

I nodded furiously.

Mom giggled. She gave my cock a quick kiss before tottering to her feet. She pressed against my chest, signalling for me to lay back. I did. Then, she unlaced the single knot that held her gown together, and the silky material fell apart, opening to reveal her naked body. It was everything I had glimpsed and imagined. Feminine, motherly curves in all the right places. Tits big enough to give her back problems—milky-pale globes capped with stiff little nipples and pink areolas. Between her legs, a neatly trimmed bush tastefully accented and concealed her innie pussy. She shrugged the gown away from her slight shoulders.

Wordlessly, she ambled onto the bed and straddled me. Her bare weight felt good pressed against me. She leaned forwards, allowing her tits to hang in my face. Fishing about between us, she found my cock with a trembling hand. I grunted.

"Shhhh," Mom purred. She began to tease the head of my cock up and down the lips of her pussy. It felt very soft and hot.

"Oh, fuck," I hissed under my breath.

Mom giggled. Then, she slowly brought her weight down, taking me inside her.

I squirmed. "Argh!"

Mom's cunt was so fucking warm and tight. Her cunt gripped me, and so did her thighs. She rocked her weight forward—and brought it back down again, squeezing me with everything she could. She moaned and bit her lip. "Fuck me, baby..." She was twisting down onto my cock now, grinding herself into me.

I guess I subconsciously found her hips with my hands. She was soft to the touch when I squeezed. Then, I began to fuck my own mom. Bucking my hips to meet her intensity.

"Oh, shit! Oh, g—god," I writhed beneath her. "Mom—!"

"You can cum inside," she purred, grinning wildly down at me, squeezing me for all she was worth with her thick thicks and tight cunt. She pressed both of her hands to my chest, preventing me from getting up without a struggle.

I felt my eyes bulge. "W—what?"

"You can cum inside me, baby," Mom repeated, still grinding herself down onto my shaft. Fuck, it felt heavenly.

"What about—"

"I'm on the pill," Mom cut me off. "Trust me, baby." Her eyes were glistening.

I nodded my head and relaxed. "Okay..." I grunted. "I'm—I'm so close, Mom..."

"Good boy," Mom purred wickedly. "I know you are." She ground down into me. Flesh clapped against flesh. Mom moaned pleasantly for me.

I didn't last very long after that. The familiar rush of pleasure washed over me. "Argh," I whimpered, sucking down desperate breath through clenched teeth. "M—oooom..."

"Good boy," Mom slurred, looking down at me with fierce pride burning in her intense gaze.

I felt my cock lurch inside her cunt, spraying her insides with thick ropes of my seed. Her only son's seed. "Oh, god..."

When I was finally spent, Mom continued to ride me gently. We both caught our breath in the pregnant silence.

After a short while, Mom leaned down. I felt her tits graze my chest as she began to plant a lane of kisses up my clavicle, all the way up to my neck. "Mommy loves you very much," she whispered into my ear.

I shivered as goosebumps washed over me. "I... love you, too."

Mom separated from me, drawing a lewd, wet squelching noise from her cunt. "Try to get some sleep," she told me, trying to regain some of the motherly high ground she had surrendered over the course of this encounter. She suddenly seemed flushed and embarrassed. As she clambered up to leave the room, I glimpsed her glazed bush and my cum shimmering as it ran in globby rivulets down a smooth thigh.

"Goodnight," she whispered, clumsily sweeping out of the room as abruptly as she arrived.

It took me an hour to fall asleep. As I drifted off, I wondered if she had come to me expecting this to happen—or maybe it just happened because it happened. Somehow, I felt like I had been masterfully played.

What do you think? Do you think she regrets it? I don't. Do you think I should return her nightgown? I kinda wanna keep it. What am I supposed to make of all that crazy shit she was talking about? She wants me?

I'll keep you posted.