A mother experiencing the emotional stress of her son going off to war impulsively fucks him. Her act of love sets off generations of incest.
This little tale has incest and bisexuality. If any of those offend you, move on. All characters involved in any sexual activity are at least 18.
Chapter 01
In the early 2000s, we were an average Christian Black family living in the suburbs of a large southern metropolis. My father was a deacon in our local AME church and a shift worker at the Ford Assembly plant. My mother was on the usher board and, at my father's insistence, a housewife. We attended church every Sunday and the prayer service on Wednesday nights.
My parents Jim, 45, and Alice,35, were Creoles born and raised in the bayous. My sister Brenda, six years younger than me, and my brother Andy, two years younger than Brenda, completed our brood.
Per the old poem, I was Thursday's child, and I had far to go. I was my family's wild child, continually testing and pushing the boundaries. There were numerous high school detentions and visits to the counselor's office, while Brenda and Andy were more of the ideal children from my parents' point of view. They never complained about going to church, sang in the choir, got good grades in school, and were never discipline problems.
As this tale began, they were both prepubescent; Brenda was 12, and Andy was 10. I was eighteen.
At my urging and, consequently, at my mother's insistence, my father walled off a section of our unfinished basement as a bedroom for me. She said I was becoming a young man and needed my privacy.
My life changed when I impulsively enlisted in the Army after a major argument with my father about the sketchy company I was keeping. The attack of 911 was in the rearview mirror, and the war in Afghanistan was going hot and heavy.
My parents were angry with me for two different reasons. My father approved because he felt it would make a man of me and take me away from what he felt was the pernicious influence of my mother's apron strings. However, he was the dominant personality in our family and disliked not being part of the decision.
My normally submissive, profoundly religious mother was in a panic. Her firstborn was going off to war, and she feared I would get killed.
The thirty days before I reported for induction were a time of high drama in our home. My parents had a running argument. My mother pleaded with my father to do the impossible and find some way to cancel my enlistment.
I was 18, old enough, of sound mind and body, and there was no reason to cancel. My parents' arguments progressed to the point that they stopped talking to each other, and my father slept on the sofa.
My mother came to my basement bedroom the night before I was to report. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her usual meticulously maintained natural hairdo looked like a rat's nest.
She has been in a funk for the past month, with emotions ranging from anger to a weepy acceptance. I tried my best to reassure her, holding her close during her crying jags and avoiding her when she went into an unreasoning rage.
"Can we talk for a minute?"
"Certainly." I patted a spot on my bed next to me.
Momma wore cloth house shoes and her old chenille robe. It was just short of knee length and belted tightly at the waist. However, due to my mother's large bosom, it gaped open around her breasts. Unbeknownst to me, she was naked under the robe.
My mother was never a small woman. However, when she was stressed, Momma was a compulsive eater. In the past thirty days, she had added maybe twenty pounds.
Roly Poly is the best phrase to describe her. She was about 5'4", 200+ pounds, with gigantic 38DD breasts and hips to match. She had the typical Black woman's Nicki Minaj-like bubble butt.
I heard a character on a television show describe a black woman's ass as jutting out enough to serve tea on. With my mother's butt, you could serve the crumpets too!
"Please be careful! I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."
Her hand was on my thigh, just below my boxer shorts, nervously flexing as she talked. We had similar talks before. She was the one who cleared up my father's bungled attempt to give me The Sex Talk. I was more comfortable confiding in her than my father.
"Don't worry, Momma! I'll be okay."
I put my arm around her and hugged her. Her head dropped to my shoulder, and she began crying.
"I'm so scared, baby, so scared!"
I inserted a finger under her chin, lifted it, and tipped it up, intending to kiss her forehead. My very religious, very reserved mother stunned me by gripping my face and kissing me on the mouth.
I mumbled, 'Mom,' but her tongue slipped in when I opened my mouth to speak.
I recoiled, falling back in the bed. Momma followed; the belt on her robe came undone, the robe pulled back, and she lay her naked body on me and continued to kiss me frantically.
The mass of her large breasts pressed against my chest, and her thick bush scratched my thigh. I grabbed her shoulders, trying to push her off me, but she clung to me desperately. We tussled, rolling on the bed as she kissed me. Ultimately, I ended up on top of her with her robe open and me lying on her, holding her hands above her head.
She writhed under me, apparently unaware or uncaring of her nudity, thrusting her hips up and struggling to get free.
"Let me go!"
"Momma, you've got to stop this! What if Daddy heard you and came to see what was happening? What about Brenda and Andy?"
It was weirdly exciting to have my nearly naked mother under me, her body writhing, begging me not to get hurt in the war.
"I don't care! Promise me you'll come back to me," she said with a frightening intensity.
I rose on my arms above her, looking down at her tear-streaked face. I was sexually active and had circled the bases with several lovers. However, this was the first time I saw my mother nude.
Her big jugs lay to either side of her chest, and her legs were spread with a thick bush covering her nether region. Her exertions had her sweating profusely, and her corpulent body gleamed under the light of the small lamp on my milk crate nightstand.
Shamefully, rolling on the bed with her excited me, and my cock had got hard. Unnoticed by my emotionally distressed mother, my cock hung through the slit in my boxers.
"Don't worry! I promise, Momma, I promise!"
I could see the wetter gleam of her sex between her sweaty, plump thighs. Though terrified that I would be hurt in the war, our wrestling had excited my mother. I would learn later that, though she was submissive to my father, she had never experienced this kind of rough foreplay, and it excited her to feel taken.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and legs around my back, pulling me down. I resisted, at once afraid of where this would inevitably end and at the same time desiring that end. I wanted to fuck my mother!
I tried to raise my butt when I felt my cockhead press against her meaty vaginal lips. Like all teenage boys, I went through my Oedipal phase. Until now, it was just that...a phase of puberty.
"Momma, we need to stop!"
I struggled to stand and break her vise-like grip. I arched my back as my mother's chubby legs wrapped around my back tightened, pulling me down, and my cock slipped into her cunt. The wet, steamy heat I experienced was as though I had stuck my tool in a sauna!
Our eyes widened in surprise. We lay there for a moment, overwhelmed by our actions. However, when I tried to pull out, Momma tightened her legs around my back, keeping my shaft trapped inside her labia.
"Fuck me," she said with terrifying intensity, "leave me with something to remember you by."
"Momma, what if you get pregnant?"
"Then, if something happens to you, I'll have our baby!"
