Incest was something I actually didn't know anything about. I first read the word in the newspaper while browsing an article about a father raping his adult daughter. I looked up the word in the dictionary. The meaning was:
sexual relations between people classed as being too closely related to marry each other.
I did the most mainstream thing; I googled it and came across a plethora of websites. One thing led to another and I landed on this hentai site that had a shitload of animated incest videos. It began with that and then I started reading the hentai manga. From there I moved on to 3D incest comics. You guys get the gist. Till then I'd never thought of my mother as a woman. One night I had a wet dream and when I came across the face of the woman, it was that of my mom. It was then I started to see her as more than a mother, as a woman, as someone I was attracted to.
Drishti Nair was 42 years old. She had hypothyroidism due to which she'd gained weight, majority of which was concentrated on her breasts and hips. She went from a cup size of 30C to a cup size 34DD. Now my mom always had very nice skin due to which she looked really young. No one could tell she was in her forties; Some even mistaking her for my elder sister. This growth spurt of her breasts made her all the more desirable. My mom was short, a total of 5 ft 5 in which made her breasts all the more accentuated. To give a clearer mental image, picture Kat Dennings with black hair that ran down up to the waist. I'd say her measurements were 38-27-34. She had really expressive eyes, whitish skin and large full lips.
She used to be a classical dancer and due to her diagnosis, we encouraged her to it up again so that she has some kind of exercise incorporated in her routine. Mom was adept in kathak, an Indian dance form that communicated stories from the great epics and ancient mythology through dance, songs and music in a manner similar to early Greek theatre. She used to head home early from office in order to work this in her schedule. I too started landing home at that time because that gave me some alone time with mom. I would watch her dance, my eyes attuned to the swaying of her breasts. I would be perpetually hard during those sessions.
I encouraged her to take part in competitions, but she would always change the topic. Finally, I convinced her, but she let me know she'd need a partner. Now I used to be a plump kid who usually was immersed in video games. But this newfound obsession with mom's boobs had motivated me to get myself in shape. I suggested my name, but she wasn't convinced. I promised that I'd work ass off, but she still had her apprehensions. I started eating healthy and trust me it truly took an effort to avoid junk food. I sometimes nearly cheated on my regime, but the thought of touching mom's boobs would pop in my mind jolting me back to determination.
I didn't want to bulk up and so just stuck to running, push and pull ups and stretching. Stretching is something I did in mom's presence. The purpose of this was to make me more elastic so my repertoire of movements would see an increase. This would help me pull of those really tricky dance moves that requirement me to turn on one leg and whatnot. Mom would be holding me down from my shoulders so I could do a complete split. It was tough and at the onset my inner thighs would really pain. To improve my flexibility mom introduced me to yoga and God every bit of my body screamed with pain.
The other area I worked diligently were the abs. Crunches, planks and every exercise conceivable was performed my me. Though I didn't have a 6 pack I had a flat and toned stomach. Seeing my perseverance mom doubled as my chef and made the meals specified as per my dietary requirements. The results were starting to show, and I was now in great shape. The next thing I did was convince my mom to take salsa lessons. Dad wouldn't go so I was up to be my mom's partner. I was ecstatic as salsa would be the perfect excuse to rub against her boobs.
We both joined the class and it was fun. We started learning the basic steps which entailed shifting the weight to either foot, breaking forward, rocking forward, stepping back and so on. There was a time when this would've been difficult for me since I had 2 right feet, but all those lessons with mom had changed me and I took to it like a moth takes to a flame. Mom had her inhibitions as salsa involved grinding our bodies to each other. I explained that even if he changed her partner, she'd had to do that with someone or an another.
"But you are my son." she said trying to explain her stand.
"I'm 20 years old, an adult if you may. So, let's talk about this as adults." I shot back.
"But that is the..." she tried to mutter a reply, but I cut her off midway.
I asked point blank "Who would you prefer, a stranger or someone you know?"
Her reply was prompt "Someone I know."
So, we both realized I was the obvious choice. We started dancing and it was fun. We would swoon to Latin music. Our salsa classes were on the weekends since during the week we would practice kathak. Mom usually wore t-shirts and track pants for our salsa lessons. I made it a point to wear a jock supporter during those lessons so that she would not feel my hard-on's.
During those sessions our relation saw a transformation where we went from mother and son to friends. We started hanging out more where we go to have a milkshake or coffee after our lessons. We scheduled our cheat days to match our salsa sessions so we could hog without guilt. I even started picking her up from the subway station on her way back from work. I'd take the bike though the car would be lying around.
Mom would initially sit with both her legs on one side. I took me a while to convince her that she had to sit with legs placed on either side. I sited security concerns but in reality, I wanted her boobs grazing on my back to remain a possibility. Initially she would sit a little back and hold my hips, but with time the distance between us was becoming non-existent. Her one hand would now rest on hip while the other hand would be on my stomach.
"Ohh...it's tight." she would coo in my ear while her hand rested on my abs.
I would blush and remain silent.
Her boobs would jiggle during the salsa lessons and so I suggested she wear a sports bra. She said that would be too revealing. I stated that it was the need of the hour and it would make her boobs stop jiggling.
"Is it that noticeable?" she said.
"It is. Not that I mind." I replied with a flirty undertone.
She mock punched me and we both laughed.
It was decided that sports bra was the way to go. Mom decided to go shopping and I decided to tag along. She tried to reason with me that she needed to go alone but I said that since dad wasn't coming, she'll need a man's perspective and I don't see anyone else around. We decided to go to one of those clothing departmental stores so we would get a huge collection to select from. I choose a weekday so that the rush would be minimal and I'd something in mind.
When we got there, mom's basic response was to choose something that bares minimal skin. I suggested that we try out a few before we come to a decision. We decided to go for a high-impact sports bra as mom planned to join me in running too and this would be an ideal fit for both activities. She wanted something that revealed less cleavage, but I suggested that there's no harm in trying everything before buying what we want.
"A smart woman once said you don't what you dislike unless you've tried it." I said.
She laughed. "You can't quote what I said to get you to eat your veggies!" she replied.
We picked a few styles. She tried them on liking them all but a little worried about the one's deep necklines. We settled for 2 with medium necklines and the other 2 with high necklines. She moved to pay the bill. I asked her to pay the bill and head towards the bike while I quickly glance at the collection to see if there's something I like. She proceeded to the counter. Once she was out of sight, I picked the bra with the deep neckline along with crop top and headed to the counter. I quickly paid and headed to meet her at the rendezvous point.
