A Short Guide to Mother-Son Incest
(Pages from the Pervert's Handbook)
(Authors note: The following is intended to be light-hearted fiction for the entertainment of adult readers and nothing more. All characters in this tale are intentionally over the age of 18, and I remind readers that any form of adult sexual contact with children is illegal, immoral, and abusive.)
Ok, so you fancy your Mum.
Come on admit it, you want to touch her, examine her breasts, and maybe even get her into your bed! Maybe she's fat, maybe she's ugly (or maybe she's incredibly attractive), maybe she's middle-aged or old, but whatever she's like she's your Mum and she's special to you in a way you can't explain, and you'd really like to get your hands on her.
Perhaps these desires are a sudden revelation or maybe you've always felt this way. There are probably a multitude of deep psychological reasons why you have these feelings, but the bottom line is you have this nagging incestuous itch that won't go away ... and one small (and perverted) part of your head is obsessed with scratching it. Ultimately you want to have a sexual relationship with your own Mother.
So here you are reading my text in the hope of picking up some ideas. You know full well the idea of having sex with your own Mother is an impossible non-starter. It's a dark place in your mind you should never have visited, and it's far better left murky and unexplored. But then you see the title of this story and some devious little neuron in a demonic part of your brain thinks 'maybe' ... well maybe there's something here that might open a chink of light into that evil darkness.
Well you may be right, but before we start left me give you some warnings.
First, incest has consequences. I mean it's immoral, it's illegal, and it's socially taboo. If you're not arrested and thrown into prison for 50 years (after having a Dumas-style Iron Mask clamped around your head), you'll certainly be shunned and ostracised from your community. Even worse, if you're religious you stand a good chance of rotting in hell for the rest of eternity just for reading this article (and it's no good pretending it was an accident. God knows what you're thinking you know, and you won't get away with a 'hey man, I was just surfing the Net and this page suddenly popped up!').
Second, even thinking about getting your mother into bed will change your relationship with her forever (but then if you're reading this it's probably already too late for that).
Third, I accept NO responsibility whatsoever for any outcomes that may arise from the thoughts herein presented. You might get lucky and put one over on your mum, but you might also get your balls chopped off or something worse (like being cut out of her Will!).
So read on at your own risk!!
Ok, let's assume your soul is damned and you don't give a shit about consequences and you're morally bereft (in other words a normal 21st century male). Let's also assume there's something about your Mum which makes your balls glow in the dark in a way even you know they shouldn't. But how on earth can you tell her ... I mean she's your Mum for God's sake!? How can you engineer a situation where something could or even 'might' happen?
Well, ignoring for a moment less plausible options (such as Hypnosis or Mind-Control), I'm going to present a number of scenarios as to how my (imaginary) characters set about solving the problem. Each character will adopt a different theme or strategy which their story will explore. Space prevents me from examining more than a few themes, although I am sure there are many approaches (and indeed I invite readers to send me their suggestions), but these seem to me the most practical.
I assume from the outset that each 'son' (for reasons I won't go too deeply into) has a yearning to seduce his Mother and has adopted a specific ploy to achieve his goal. As far as possible in the context of what are meant to be entertaining stories, I will attempt to outline each of the strategies employed.
In this first part I will look at two 'strategies'. Hopefully (if I ever get around to it – NO promises!), I will subsequently offer a further two approaches
Enough said ... on with my tales.
The Drunken Mum
Jason's Mother was 51 and always looked like she was pregnant. She wasn't exactly fat but with a stomach that bugled outwards (as if ripe with child), she did a pretty good impression. Thankfully she had enormous breasts which stuck out beyond her tummy and tended to hide (or rather distract attention away from) her large belly. Indeed her breasts were her main feature, of which she was duly proud, and she made no attempt to hide them or disguise their size. In fact when not at work she always tended to wear lacy see-through blouses which revealed (to the attentive observer) two huge white prominences. These prominences were the full cups of a regulation but old-fashioned white brassiere which confined and controlled her massive mammaries. Each cup had polyester bands around it, decreasing in size until they disappeared into the nipple area, giving the whole construction an air of powerful engineering and making the device appear similar to a 1950's Bullet-Bra. I'm not sure if she realised it but the slightly-chiffon view of that gargantuan bra, proudly doing its job of lifting and separating her substantial tits, was almost as erotic as her unclothed naked breasts might have been.
When she was at work (at a local bakery) she wore a white cotton uniform dress that was plain and unassuming. However as this dress was buttoned at the front, her large breasts had the effect of pulling the area between the button-holes apart, and if you stood side-on (to her left side) you could plainly see the mountainous curve of her bra through the gap. When home from work she sometimes left her uniform on, and if the buttons pulled apart (as they sometimes did) she never worried too much about reconnecting them.
All this meant poor Jason could never entirely escape the temptation (or indeed the opportunity) to scrutinize his Mother's chest.
At 19 Jason was unemployed and spent most of his daytime bumming around the house. At some point his boring life led him to his mother's underwear draw. Her brassieres fascinated him and he often spent time holding the cups in his hand and imagining what they might feel like if they were full. Eventually he took to masturbating over them, either with a bra in his hand or wrapped around his penis. He fantasised about fondling his Mother's breasts through the bra, and indeed of removing the bra and seeing what glories lay underneath. Inevitably over time his fantasies became cruder and more daring, and slowly and inexorably led him to notion of actually trying to find a way to 'cop a feel' of his Mother's wonderful tits.
Given the circumstances of his Mother's lifestyle this did not seem as impossible as one might imagine. His father was a shift-worker at the local car factory and often worked nights at the weekend. On these nights his Mother frequently went out with the girls 'pubbing and clubbing', only to reappear around two a.m. in various stages of intoxication. Moreover Jason has twice seen her emerging not from a taxi but from the car of some unknown male. He was convinced that on such nights she 'let her hair down' so to speak, and maybe even got herself laid. But he never said anything to anyone, maybe even back then instinctively knowing that such information may be useful one day.
So a plot was hatched...
One Friday night (when his dad was at work) he would wait up for his Mother to come home, and if she were sufficiently drunk, then he would exaggerate the level of his own intoxication and try his luck at fondling his Mother's tits. I say 'exaggerate' his level of drunkenness but Jason knew full well he'd have to be pretty far gone to have the guts to try such a thing. I mean it was scary prospect, trying it on with your own Mother ... even if she was a bit of a tart.
