** This is a work of fiction. It contains absolutely no truth -- even the bits that sound plausible. The characters in this story are not based on any real persons, nor is the story based on any real events. It's a story people, enjoy it for it is. **
** This story is about incest between a mother and her son -- both of whom are adults. If you don't like this subject matter, move along. **
*
"Do you want a wipe?" I asked, staring across at Sona. Her hand was still between her legs and I could see her still lazily flicking her cunt. She had her eyes closed and a serene smile across her beautiful face which seemed to radiate an ethereal glow. It was nice seeing her like this, at peace with herself.
She opened her eyes and glanced across at me. I had the sense she was mildly annoyed from having me break her moment. She took her hands from her cunt and examined the slick clear mucus as she rubbed her fingertips together.
"Nah, I think I'll just go and freshen up." She said as she struggled to pick herself up from her reclined position on the sofa.
Her tight fitting jeans were bunched around her knees as she made a comical shuffle towards the bathroom, one hand struggling to pull her jeans up the other cupping her coochie.
As she passed me I gave a quick playful smack on her firm bum and she squealed in surprise, slapping me back playfully on the shoulder before disappearing into the passageway and to the toilet.
I took a wipe from the dispenser and mopped up the mess on my hands and cock, working it all over my crotch before scrunching it up and dumping it in with the fast food takeaway litter strewn across the coffee table. I pulled my shorts and trousers back on and sat in the quiet living room, sniffing the pungent smells in the air, a strange cocktail of donor kebab, sweat, and pussy. I got up to open a window to let some fresh air back in before I fell back onto the sofa and lazily watched the millionth repeat of some American sitcom on TV, even though the sound was still on mute.
Sona came back in the room, blowing out a long exhale as she went to sit back at her spot on the sofa. Before she set back she bunched up her hair and tied it into a neat knot with one of her scrunchies. I watched her throughout, a knowing smile on my face.
"What?" She asked, smirking sheepishly.
"Enjoy yourself?" I asked, a wide grin on mine.
"Yeah, it was nice. Always nice to have a bit of a tickle." She chuckled girlishly.
"I bet. So......"
"What?" She smiled at me curiously. I think she knew what I was going to say but was just playing dumb.
"Well, it appears we've had a bit of a revelation today, no?"
She rolled her eyes and gawped at me, her amusement never fading. "So, I know your dying to tell me. Explain it to me Mr hotshot amateur psychologist."
"I think this one's a bit too deep and tricky for me. I think you need a proper psychiatrist for this one!"
"Don't say that!" She whined at me playfully.
"I mean it. It's a reaaaaal tricky one. You. Mobeen. I'm not even going to mention Karen. In fact Karen's not the problem here. It's just you and Mobeen."
"So you think it's a problem then?" A look of mild concern crossed her face.
"I don't know. Depends on what you do I guess. I mean you haven't done anything yet. There's been movement from his end in approaching you with the whole threesome thing but you yourself haven't actually done anything about it. The matter is dead in the water as I see it."
"Question is, should I do anything about it?"
"Nopes, the question is, do you WANT to do anything about it?"
"Oh come on. Why do you have to make it so complicated? Why can't you just tell me what to do and I'll do it?" She argued, in mock frustration.
"Because it's not about me. It's about you and your life. I can only help you think through your thoughts but you have to make the decisions. You're the one that needs to get the control back in your life. It's no good you doing everything I say. That would be a terrible idea. I'm a freaking pervert!"
"Problem is, I'm a bit twisted in the head as well!" She added.
We both chuckled together as I watched her pat the pillow next to her nervously. She looked at me with eyes full of sorrow and regret as her laughter trailed off. I pitied her deeply.
"Hmmmn, yes. That IS a problem." I said.
"That is THE problem." She corrected.
"Indeed. I guess all you can do is see how it goes. See how things pan out."
"That doesn't sound like an answer."
"It's not. It's me using my 'get out of jail free' card." "You still have those?"
"Always."
"You're useless."
"You smell."
She threw a pillow at me and pretended to pout. We watched the rest of the sitcom in silence before I agreed to take her home. It was already 3 in the morning.
****************************
Neither of us brought up the topic again for several weeks after that. I wanted to. Almost every time I spoke to her I tried to navigate the conversation in that direction but it just didn't seem to work out. She'd bore me to death with all her other problems and flights of fancy.
It was only a day before the mid term holidays that she finally broached the topic. Albeit nervously.
She called me while I was out grocery shopping on a Sunday afternoon. We dispensed with the pleasantries quickly.
"So what's up?" I asked. My mind was only partly in the conversation as I glanced through the supermarket shelves for horseradish pickle.
"Mobeen is coming home for the holidays."
I froze straight away as that ominous statement hung in the air, full of possibility and consequence.
"OK." Was the only reply I could dumbly muster.
"I was hoping you'd say a bit more than that."
"I know. It's just..." I looked around suspiciously. I wanted to carry on this conversation but had the distinct feeling it wasn't going to be possible to have it here, in a supermarket, in public.
"Listen can I call you back?" I added, quickly.
"No, I need to talk now. I'm going out of my mind!" She sounded hoarse and her frustration came across clearly in her cracked tones.
"Don't worry. I promise I'll call you back in a bit. I'm at the supermarket right now and can't talk cos there're people around. Let me get back to the car so we can talk properly."
"OK, hurry up!"
"5 mins!"
I frantically completely the rest of the grocery shopping. Horseradish pickle for now would be off the menu.
As I hurried to the car a million thoughts went through my head, none of which I could articulate or frame into a coherent sentence.
As soon as I got into the car I called her back, she answered before the phone even rang.
"Hey, it's me." I said.
"So, what do I do?" She asked, plainly.
"I don't know Sona. I really don't know how to advise you on this!"
"You've got to. I've been going out of my mind since Mobeen called. I've been bloody frantic."
"Why, what did he say?"
"Nothing. He bloody well said absolutely nothing. Just that he's coming home for the mid term holidays. He's gonna be here for week. He's arriving in 3 fucking hours!"
"But that's good right? I don't get it. What's the problem?"
"The 'problem' is that I've done nothing but think about THAT since he called. It's driving me nuts!"
"What? Thinking about what? I don't get you." I was genuinely confused.
"You know. THAT. I've been thinking about 'IT'. Him. Me. Us. DO I need to fucking spell it out for you??"
"Ohhhhhh." I said. It hadn't been one of my most insightful moments.
"YES OOOOOOH. Now you get what I'm talking about. Fucking hell, you're no good to me dumb!"
"OK, OK. Look just calm down. You said he's gonna be there in 3 hours yeah?"
"Yeah."
"So go and have a shower. You had a trim downstairs? Better yet, go for a shave. Get it all nice and clean."
"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS????" She screamed down the line in a pitch that seemed to damage the speaker on my phone.
"Well what's you fucking bright idea?" I asked.
"I don't have one. That's why I'm wasting my time talking to you."
"Well stop wasting you time and do it. You have plenty of time."
"Are you kidding me? You're seriously telling me I should go through with this. I should do it with Mobeen?"
"No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying you should be prepared for the eventuality. I don't know what you should do. Actually, I know you probably shouldn't do it -- but that's my 'societal morality' talking. I personally think, whether you do or don't. It should be something you both mutually decide. It's no ones business but yours."
"God, I can't believe I'm even contemplating this."
