Now the floodgate was open, at least for me it was. I knew I wanted to have a full sexual relationship with my wonderful beautiful Mother. I wanted her in every way a man can want a woman. No inhibitions. I felt sure she wanted me in the same way. But. There was always a "but" that got into the mix of any of those thought's. I began to wonder if my Mother had any of those "but" thought's? Of course asking my self was like punishing myself for something I hadn't actually done in the physical sense, but in my mind and more importantly in my soul I had done everything I had ever seen, heard of, talked about, read about or thought about to and with a beautiful woman's body that now especially seemed to have my Mother's face attached to it.
It was funny that dreams and scenes I had from early on about all sorts of sexual acts from Playboy, Penthouse or even movies that had an erotic scene of some memorable acts in them now took on my Mother's face as one of the characters. I couldn't help it and I couldn't stop it from happening either and I really didn't want to. I wanted to have my Mother and I knew she wanted it too.
But.
That little word kept coming up. I hated it. Why? Why was there a "but" attached to all thought's of sexual acts with my Mother. I had oral sex with her, I had teased and dominated her and quite frankly enjoyed all of that tremendously! So why was there a "but" in my thoughts? And was there one in Mother's thoughts as well?
My Mother lay before me naked and panting on the table in our kitchen. I had just gone down on her and eater her pussy out. I had licked her anus. I had fingered her cunt. I enjoyed every single thing I had done. I did not have any regrets about doing any of the things.
But.
I didn't want anyone to know what I had done with my beautiful Mother, even though I also knew that if it were to be known, I had some friends that would be very envious of me, slap my back in pure joy that I was able to enjoy the beauty of such a beautiful woman. I also knew that a few people I knew would burn rubber all the way to the local police department trying to be the first in line to turn us in. I knew some would immediately get on their phones and burn up the phone company with their dialing everyone they knew or even thought they knew to spread the gossip as soon as they heard any little piece of the story as quickly as they could.
That was where the "but" came from for me. I wasn't ashamed of anything about my Mother. She was my Queen. But I was totally terrified of any word getting around town that we were having an incestual relationship, even if it was true.
Oh, I had it all worked out in my mind. She was sterile. Hysterectomy. So since she could not conceive the biblical definition of procreation due to incestual relations could be discounted, the law of the land could conceivably be dealt the same blow as we were two adult's engaging in consensual sexual relations, at least we would be in another two and a half years after I turned 21. I, we needed to stay away from anyone we knew for that amount of time at least! Then, it might not matter if we were dedicated to one another and I was certain that would be the case.
But.
It was the same old bugaboo. I hated it too. Hiding, sneaking around. It was bullshit. Brought on by an unaccepting society. Oh, sure the laws on the books "SAY" consenting adults, but that's just legal bullshit. Too many tongues would wag and too much shit would happen and it would all get blown out of proportion and Mother would get really hurt and I couldn't stand that. Nasty. People were nasty. Good God fearing religious fanatical church going supposed Christian brothers and sisters would be the very first to turn on us instead of understanding and helping they'd be furnishing the pitch forks and firewood! It was laughable but sadly not too funny to me because I knew that to be the truth.
But. Christians, but!
Well I also knew that the plan Mother had stumbled on for the property swap was absolutely the answer to our troubles if we wanted to call it that. Out of sight out of mind was a good cliche to me.
If we could work that out and get this "George" to help out with that and I could figure a way to wrap my mind around what he wanted to use my Mother for and how to do it so that George would think Mom was dating another guy, then it would go a long way toward covering our trail.
Mom moaned and her feet that had been propped up on the tabletop slid forward and off the edge. I leaned in a planted a wet kiss on her soppng pussy and gave it a long lick tasting her. She merely flinched a little and moaned again. There was a clown like smile on her face and I knew she would be just basking in the glow for a few minutes more so my thinking kept going.
The property swap was good. Using George was good. I would need a good plan for that though because I never wanted my Mother in any danger real or imagined no matter what. I let my gaze roam up her slim thighs and across the flat stomach to her still full breasts and that cute face, I loved my Mother. It wasn't a dream or an illusion, I loved her and not only the way a Son should love his Mother, but as deeply as any man can love a woman.
I decided right then and there to trade all of the "but's" for "and's". Instead of adding a "but" at the end of every doubt or sexual thought involving me and my Mother, I would substitute an "and" as in saying,"And no matter what we will work it out!"