In Uniform In Mom

I received an e-mail from a reader recently. He told how he and his mother had a loving, sexual relationship during his teenage years after his father had died suddenly and he and his mom had emigrated to the U.S. from Eastern Europe.

Poor, scared, alone, and not fluent in English, they sought solace in each others arms during some truly troubling and difficult times. Eventually he joined the Marines and proudly served his new country. He subsequently married, had children and led a "normal" life but he said he had never regretted the time he and his mother had spent together as lovers. In fact they never stopped...

This is not that story. Instead it's one that popped into my head after I'd read his...It's about 2 ½ LITEROTICA pages long. Enjoy...

WARNING: This is an Incest category story that features sex between a mother and her virgin son. There is

no underage sex

described in this story -- all participants are 18 years old or older

Friday night, 10:50 p.m. March 14th 2008

"You're back early," my mother said as she looked up from her book when I entered the den just before eleven. She had her long legs curled under her and was sitting at the end of the dark blue sofa that dominated our den. Her rectangular, black framed reading glasses, the same color as the long, silken tresses that tumbled down over her shoulders, sat perched on the end of her nose. She looked great. She always did!

"Becky was tired," I said, shrugging my shoulders as I threw myself down on the other end of the couch. "Watcha doing?" I asked casually as I let my eyes surreptitiously slide over her curves

"Reading," she said ruefully. I noticed that a couple of the old photo albums were on the coffee table and guessed she'd been looking at the old family pictures again.

"C'mon ma, it's Friday for crying out loud, you gotta get out once in a while," I chided.

Mom, who was a young looking thirty-five year old, and was an ER nurse at the local hospital, never seemed to have a date on her free nights. Which, given her looks, didn't make much sense to me. I hadn't really noticed her lack of man when I'd been growing up. And until grandpa had died just over a year ago we'd always had a man around the house so it hadn't been so obvious. It had only been after my own sex drive had exploded into life that I'd started to wonder about mom.

"What's wrong with Becky anyway?" she asked without looking up.

"Who knows...some girl thing."

"Some girl thing?" she asked as she flicked her eyes over at me. She had an amused mothers smile on her lips.

"Well you know," I stammered.

"Her period?" mom asked, not taking the hint that I didn't really want to discuss it.

"I guess," I said noncommittally, "Or something else. Wanta play cards or watch a movie or something?" I asked as I idly picked up one of the photo albums from the table and started to flip through it.

"Something else?"

"C'mon, you know...heck you're the expert," I grumbled.

"What things? Bobby, why are you embarrassed?"

"I'm not," I replied as I felt even more blood rush to my cheeks. I had a sudden crazy urge to lean over and capture mom's lips in mine...to stop her words... to taste her.

"We are in the twenty-first century my dearest son," she said with the teasing tone now clear in her voice. "The age of science...of medical knowledge...of informed teenagers...AIDS...STD's...condoms."

"Jeeze ma," I muttered. Cripes, what's wrong with bloody women these days I asked myself silently? It was bad enough that you have to spend half the evening talking about clothes, hair gel, chick fliks and Brittany Spears to even get a girl to kiss you. But then, after your girl bails on you before you can get to first base, you get home and your mom gives you the third degree.

"You do know what a woman's period is don't you? I mean you do remember your eighth grade sex classes, right? The talks we had? What your granddad told you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said as I jumped to my feet and turned to leave the room even as I hoped she'd call me back.

"Hey you... I'm sorry Bobby...what movie were you thinking of watching?" mom wistfully asked my back. I was surprised to catch the hint of loneliness in her voice.

"Can we watch one of the old ones?" I asked as I turned back, meaning the old family films.

"You want to? Really?" She asked as she brightened, then added, "Yeah okay, sure," when she saw my nod. Then I watched as she put her book down and then leaned back and stretched her body. It was a stretch that pulled her shoulders back and thrust out her full, round breasts and filled her suddenly taut, pink turtleneck sweater. Outstanding breasts! Better than Becky's. By far! Except that they were my moms.

You pervert, I chastised myself as I covertly took in the view, watching as mom's nipples pushed outwards through the thin wool. Ma's body had being increasingly getting my attention over the previous couple of months. Lately, weird as it may seem, mom had been appearing in my dreams more often than my girlfriend. And somehow I sensed that she enjoyed the attention, and that even sometimes maybe she was trying to attract it. I knew suddenly the stretch was for me. She wanted me to look at her tits.

"You'll have to make the popcorn," I challenged with a smile, now eager to spend a Friday night with ma, realizing I was as lonely as she, now more than eager to sit next to her on the couch. I let my eyes linger on her breasts, just long enough to make sure she'd notice my attention.

"You want a coke too?" she asked as she hopped up from the couch. There was a smiling blush on her cheeks. Her breasts bounced under her sweater. Then, as she headed for the kitchen she turned back and said, "Hey you, I'm going to go put my p.j.'s on and get comfy, maybe you should too."

"Ya, okay...sure, give me five," I answered as I jumped up and followed her from the room and then moved down the hallway to my bedroom at the back of the house. After quickly stripping off my jeans, shorts and shirt I stood for seconds in front of my full length bedroom mirror watching myself. Fuck, I should be over at Becky's house I complained silently as I examined my reflected body. I slowly lifted my penis and then waved it at the mirror. "Here Becky, Bobby's got a nice big present for you," I said angrily to the empty room as my cock jumped into hardness filling my palm. Yeah, except little Becky was at home alone in her bed. But then a vision of mom's breasts flashed through my mind, completely erasing any thoughts of Becky.

To heck with underwear I told myself as I rummaged in my dresser for my old grey sweatpants that I normally wore when lounging around watching TV. But I usually didn't when mom was around, and certainly not without underwear under them.

I grinned at my reflection as I watched my now clearly outlined cock through the thin, light grey fabric that clung to my legs. What'll mom think if I walked into the den like this I wondered as I took a few tentative steps in front of the mirror, watching my penis bounce with each step. Christ, I better change I decided and then slowly started to lower my pants, but laughed when my freed cock sprang upward hard against my stomach.

I watched it for seconds before pulling my pants back up. She's seen me in sweats before, no big deal I convinced myself as I tucked my penis away. No big deal. Yeah right!

"She's your mother stupid," I muttered out loud as I grabbed two thirty-five pound dumbbells from the floor and started curling them in front of the mirror. After two sets of twelve reps I paused and admired the bulging biceps that were reflected back at me.

"Are you coming?" I heard mom call from the den.

"Two secs," I yelled back, then dropped the weights, pulled a tank top on over my head and left my room and started down the hall. "Just gotta pee first," I shouted.

"Hurry up, the popcorns getting cold" she yelled back.

My washroom was between my room and the den and when I entered it I purposely left the door open. After lifting the toilet seat up I pulled my penis out and aimed the still semi-hard rod at the bowl below. The stream of piss when it started was strong and splashed noisily down into the yellowing water. I loved the sound and knew mom next door could easily hear it. Would she say anything I wondered as I pushed it back into my pants? She did.

"You should shut the door," mom said when I finally got back to the den.

"Huh?" I asked, feigning incomprehension.

"When you pee. You're noisy. Did you at least put the toilet seat down after?" she asked as her eyes flicked to my groin. My eyes followed hers -- my penis was clearly outlined!

"I think so, but what's the prob, you don't use that can anyway," I said as I sat down next to her. My cock bounced upward as I sat.

"Yeah, well," she said as she got up and went over to the DVD player.

Jeeezus! My eyes finally focused on what mom was wearing. What the hell did she have on? Without a seconds thought I let out a wolf whistle.

"What?" she asked as she turned her head to look back at me.

"Where'd you get those? Have you been shopping at Victoria's Secret or something?" I accused, a stupid grin on my lips.

"What do you mean? They're just new p.j.s, nothing special," she said as she half turned towards me with a DVD in her hand.

"Sure ma," I said in a disbelieving tone, unable to take my eyes off the curves her new jammies just highlighted. "Do you have a new boyfriend by any chance? A doctor maybe?" I asked as I leered. Mom started to blush as I continued to run my eyes over the form fitting, two piece, ivory colored, knit outfit made up of a V necked cami over a matching pair of form fitting boy shorts. She had never worn something like this in front of me before. And I'd been worrying about what I had on I thought to myself as I watched her.

"Yeah right, like some doctor would want to go out with me," mom groused as she bent over and inserted one of the DVD's in the machine. The soft cotton of her shorts rode up the back of her perfectly proportioned thighs and provided a quick shot of two round cheeks as the material bunched up into her anal crack.

"I don't know ma....you're pretty hot...especially for an old widow lady," I said as she moved towards me and the couch. "He'd be one lucky guy," I added, a teasing smile on my lips.

"Old...ha, ha...as if," she answered as she plopped herself down on the couch next to me and handed me the remote. Then she reached over and grabbed the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table and put it in her lap. I watched as her breasts moved under her top. The blood started flooding back into my cock!

"Here, you take the remote," I ordered as I grabbed the bowl and put it on my lap, trying to disguise the awaking giant, the growing bulge. I could see the dark shadows of mom's nipples through the light colored material that struggled to contain her heaving breasts.

"We're sharing that popcorn young man," she warned as she pushed the play button on the remote.

A picture of my dad appeared up on the TV screen as my mother nestled her soft body against mine in a comfortable position for her that inadvertently allowed me to see halfway down her top. Or was it inadvertent I suddenly wondered? My hard-on jumped to attention, almost upsetting the bowl of popcorn! My eyes darted back and forth between the images on the screen and the dark pink areolas I'd dreamed of but had never seen before.

I watched the TV as my father, captured on film some seventeen years earlier, ran over to my mother and lifted her high into the air. Both of them were laughing and obviously in love. He lowered her and then they embraced, kissing in a passionate embrace that rivaled anything you'd ever see up on the big screen. When we'd transferred all our old family films and photos to DVD's a couple of years earlier mom had insisted that this clip of dad and her be the first scene of every one of the three DVDs we'd finally had made.

Now, sitting next to my mother, watching them kiss on the TV, I put my left arm around her shoulders and pulled her even tighter against me. And then, with her soft hair resting against my cheek and the smell of her perfume wafting around my head, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be doing what my dad was doing up on the screen. What he'd done so many years before.

"How old were you then?" I whispered even though I'd seen the film a hundred times and knew every frame of it. The fingers on the arm I had around mom lightly caressed her upper arm.

"Eighteen...we'd been married almost two years by then...you know all that," she accused, then, watching the screen, she reached into the bowl on my lap and grabbed a handful of popcorn. The bowl teetered on top of my cock.

"You were so beautiful... dad was lucky-", I said almost reverentially while slipping my free hand under the elastic band of my pants and adjusting my penis, freeing it from the weight of the bowl. Looking down I could see the thick shaft clearly through the cloth, then quickly moved the bowl to the side a bit so it was partially between mom and the tent that had formed. "You still are," I added.

"Hah!" she answered. But when I'd looked up I caught her eyes peeking down, saw the surprise, the interest?

My father, John Morgan, Jack to everyone, an eighteen year old who'd just graduated from high school and then immediately joined the Marines, was just one of the thousands of recruits that pass through Camp Lajeune, North Carolina every year. It was the summer of 1988 and a couple of weeks after arriving at the camp he ran into sixteen year old Cindy Brown, the precocious daughter of a Marine Corps master sergeant. It was love at first sight!

I got to know my grandfather, Robert Carlyle Brown, pretty well growing up, what with my father dead and mom and I living with him. And to me, even now, the greatest mystery of my parent's life was how they ever got together, fell in love and eloped with grandpa guarding the gate. Somehow dad had slipped through gramp's defenses and carried off the prize without getting killed. Which must have taken some doing! My grandfather had been one tough son of a bitch!

On one of my gramps and my overnight hunting outings years later, when I was maybe twelve or thirteen, sitting by the campfire after a day in the woods, he'd told me the story of how he'd arrived home one Friday to be presented his daughters elopement letter by his wife of twenty years.

"Had grandma known about it?" I'd asked.

"She'd been as surprised as I was," he admitted in his gruff, deep voice. "I wasn't happy."

"And what happened when they finally came home?" I asked my grandpa as we sat in the warmth of the fire.

"Never you mind Bobby...anyway, it all worked out," he'd answered, closing the subject. But of course I eventually heard the story of how my father and grandfather had gone at it for about thirty rounds in the then dusty front yard of the house I'd been born in and where I had spent my whole life. I heard of how they finally, bloodied and bruised, spent the rest of the night sitting on the front porch getting drunk together, finally emerging in the morning as best friends.

Life went on. Mom got pregnant almost immediately while dad continued his marine training. She continued to live with her parents in the small southern town on the edge of the largest Marine base in the country and that's where yours truly, Robert John Morgan, named for my grandfather and father, was born on November 17th 1989. More than eighteen years ago.

I never got to know my grandmother, she died of breast cancer at fifty-one years of age, three days before my first birthday.

Nor did I get a chance to really get to know my father! He died in nineteen-ninety two in some place called Mogadishu, Somalia over there in Africa. Gave his life in the service of our country. Fighting for who knows what. I'd tried to figure out what the whole thing had been about when I was sixteen. Read stories, checked the Internet, asked around. But I'd never really figured it out.

When I'd asked my gramps to explain it he's simply said, "We live in the greatest country in the world Bobby. And when our country needs us, men like your father and me and even you," and here he stopped to drill me with his eyes, "we answer the call."

"Yes sir," I'd answered, having known for years that one day I too would become a Marine and serve my country.

When dad died I wasn't yet three years old. And so, my only memories of my father were the stories I'd heard from mom and gramps and the meager photographic evidence he'd left behind.

But there weren't that many photographs...not that many films of my dad and mom. They'd only known each other for less than four years and dad had been away for over two of them.

Mom and I watched the film silently for over an hour -- both of us lost in our own private thoughts but drawing warmth from the contact between our bodies. Tears silently flowed down mom's cheeks much of the time as she watched the man she'd loved. And it was almost as bad for me as I sat watching my gramps up on the screen, the man who'd raised me, dead only just over a year now.

And yet as I watched I was continually aware of the warmth of mom's thigh against mine, of her soft dark hair nestled against my cheek, of the glimpses of her full, milky white breasts, of her perfume...of how the cloth of her pajama bottoms would tighten across her groin each time she shifted her legs and give me a hint of the channel below. Of the way her breast gently pressed against my side...of her pink areolas...capped by erect nipples...

"Do you want to watch the next one," mom asked softly when the DVD finally ended. It was just after midnight. A last lone tear was slowly winding down over her cheek. She was nestled against me.

"Why don't we watch it tomorrow night?" I answered, then bent over and kissed the tear from her cheek.

"What about Becky? You always take her out Saturdays."

"To hell with her," I said, choosing words that I knew would arouse mom's curiosity. Words I'd spent the last twenty minutes of the film planning to say. Then I slowly uncoiled from her and made to stand. I knew she wouldn't let me leave on that note.

"Is something wrong between you two?"

"Nah. I just don't think its going to work."

"With Becky? How come? She's a nice girl..." mom said, but even I could detect the false tone in her praise. Mom had never really liked my girlfriend.

"She's okay... but...it's just that...it's embarrassing, you probably don't want to-" I stammered, leaving another lure for mom. Meanwhile I was thinking to myself,

what are you doing? Go to bed...you can't have her...it'd be wrong...wouldn't it?...she'll hate you if you try anything...you're sick...

.

"Yes I certainly do want to hear about it young man," mom said as she put her hand on my arm, holding me from leaving.

"It's just that," I started but then stammered to a halt.

"Is Becky pregnant?"

"Maaaaaaaa!" I was stunned by her question.

"Well...the way you-"

"It's just the opposite," I finally admitted with a rueful laugh as I sat back down next to her. My cock was hardening.

"What do you mean?"

"She doesn't believe in having sex."

"She's a virgin?" mom asked, her incredulity clear. "But-"

"She's too young...she's not sure...she wants to wait for college...she's afraid...we're not going to see each other next year...her minister said...she's not ready...what if she got pregnant," I said, reciting just some of Becky's increasingly lame excuses.

"But you're eighteen...you're not a virg...," mom started but then trailed off into silence as she watched my face. "I mean there's nothing wrong if you are Bobby...I just thought," she stammered out when she started up again. "What about Carrie?' she asked, referring to the girl I'd been dating in the fall.