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Mother-Son Breast Feeding Incest Stories
11-28-2012, 08:38 AM
Post: #71
RE: Mother-Son Breast Feeding Incest Stories
Christmas Eve. Usually such a happy day, Melissa thought. But not this year, she told herself as she sat nursing Erica. Arnold had left her. But not only had he left her, he had taken all their money, leaving her, Erica and Sam, their eighteen-year-old son to fend for themselves. Arnold had always been an abusive son-of-a-bitch and Melissa should have left him before things came to this. But that was neither here nor there at the moment. He was gone and she didn't even have enough money to buy Christmas gifts. Luckily, Sam had his part-time job. And that along with WIC and food stamps, they had enough to buy food, but not much more.

Watching the little baby's mouth pulling on her nipple, she had never felt so all alone and helpless. She had no one to turn to. But wait, she thought, wait, what about Aunt Clarice? She was rich, and lived alone since Uncle Charlie passed on. Maybe she would lend her some money to get by with for a while. Yes, that might just work, she thought. I'll give her a call tomorrow. How could she turn down family? Especially on Christmas Day. A day of giving.

A light snow was falling as Sam trudged along listening to the snow creak under his shoes. Some Christmas it was going to be. His dad had left his mother and they hardly had a pot to piss in. Good thing he had his job, he thought, shifting the paper bag of groceries from one arm to the other. Otherwise they would barely have food.

Stopping at the front door, Sam kicked the snow off his shoes and opened the door. Stepping in out of the frosty night, he felt the warmth of the house wrap itself around him.

"Mom, I'm home," he shouted out, toeing his shoes off and leaving them by the front door.

"I'm in here, Honey," he heard her call back from the living room. "With Erica . . ."

That would mean that she was probably nursing the baby, Sam thought. Maybe he would get to see one of her big, beautiful tits. He knew that he shouldn't think about her like that, but he couldn't help it. She was always a little careless about exposing her breasts when she nursed Erica and Sam had always thought they were just about the biggest, most beautiful breasts he had ever seen. Even prettier than the boobs in the girlie magazines he had stolen from his dad.

Quickly stepping into the living room, he glanced over at the couch and saw that his mother was indeed nursing Erica.

"Hi, Mom," he grinned glancing down at the big, white breast that the baby had her tiny hands wrapped around.

"Hi, Honey," Melissa returned, looking over to where Sam stood watching her.

He was looking at her breast, she anxiously thought, reaching over and self-consciously pulling the edge of her blouse over it as a pink blush spread out over her cheeks.

"Uh, how, how was your day?" she asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortably ill at ease.

"Okay," Sam mumbled, swallowing and turning toward the kitchen. "Uh, I bought a few things for Christmas . . . I didn't have enough for a turkey, but I bought a chicken, so I guess that will have to do."

"That will be fine, Dear," she smiled, watching him step out of the living room into the kitchen.

I've never noticed him looking at my breasts before, she told herself. Or maybe she had just never looked for it. He was a teenager, after all. And all teenage boys ever thought about was sex, wasn't it? Even her Sam. But thinking about him like that was uncomfortable. In her mind, he was still her little, baby boy. And she didn't want to think of him as a boy growing into manhood. She wanted to think of him as her little boy!

Putting the groceries away, Sam saw that the pot of posole on the stove was happily bubbling away. His mother always cooked a pot of posole on Christmas Eve and they would have two or three bowls to celebrate the holiday. Just smelling it made him hungry.

But then his thoughts turned back to his mother. Was it just him, or did all boys think about their mothers the way he thought about her? Or was he just a sicko? Ever since puberty, he had been enthralled by his mother's big breasts. And then when Erica came along, his mother's breasts had grown even larger and more fascinating. This plus the fact that he was given brief glimpses of the wondrous creations when his mother nursed Erica was driving him to the point of obsessing about them. He spent most of his waking time thinking about them. Thinking about how pretty they were and how it would feel to touch them. To touch them and taste the sweet nectar that flowed from them. He obsessed to the point of envy toward his little sister, Erica.

Look at you, he rebuked himself. You're acting like a little baby. Wanting to do something to your sister so you can have your mother all to yourself. That is sick! Your mother is not some toy that the two of you have to share. She's your mother for Christ's sake.

But what if he did have his mother all to himself again? What good would that do? She would never consent to anything as nasty and loathsome as what he wanted to do. But even knowing that, it couldn't stop him from thinking about it. And trying to come up with a way. Couldn't stop him from trying to show her how much he loved her. Wanted her! Needed her! He loved her and wanted her so bad, sometimes he ached all over.

With the groceries put away, Sam pulled the bottle of champagne out of the sack and twisted off the little wire cage holding the cork in. He had spent the last of his paycheck on the bottle and had his twenty-two-year-old friend, Hank buy it for him. Hank was twenty-two and was always ready to play the age card for Sam. All he had to do was ask.


Uncorking the bottle, Sam slowly poured the champagne into two plastic glasses.

"Honey, could you please turn the posole off," he heard his mother call out from the living room.

"Sure thing, Mom," he called back, stepping over to the stove and turning the burner off.

When she had seen Sam looking at her breast, Melissa's nipples had suddenly grown oddly sensitive. And as Erica suckled on the one she had in her little mouth, the nipple was sending warm, stimulating signals down to her nether regions. Nursing had always given her pleasurable feelings that made her feel warm and cuddly, but not in a sexual way. But this time it was different. There was a strange, unexpected sexual undercurrent to it and she suddenly found herself becoming aroused.

What was happening to her, she fearfully asked herself? Why was it happening? Nothing like it had ever happened before, so why now?

Oh, stop it, she told herself, slowly extracting her big, puffy nipple from Erica's sucking mouth. Then lifting Erica up to her shoulder, she gently patted her on the back until she heard a soft little burp. Then, as she pushed up to her feet to put Erica in her crib, she saw Sam come walking back into the living room with two glasses in his hands.

As he did, he stopped and his eyes immediately dropped down to her breasts which were now both exposed as she hadn't bothered to button her blouse not thinking he would return so quickly.

Another flash of something that she had to call excitement fired off down in her nether regions as she quickly turned to hide her breasts from him. As she did, she felt the heavy, milk-laden udders roll and tug at her chest, causing her even more consternation.

"Oops—Sorry—" Sam muttered standing by the kitchen door watching her as she quickly made her way over to the crib standing in the corner of the room.

She didn't answer him and tried to walk with her back turned to him so that he couldn't see her breasts. She didn't know what to say . . . or do. . . .

They were so, so beautiful, Sam thought to himself as he watched her walk toward the crib.

Melissa could feel the warm blush as it spread out over her cheeks while she leaned over the crib tucking Erica in her crib. She could also feel the heavy tug of her breasts on her chest as they swung down under her rolling and banging against one another. Standing back up, she pulled the edges of her blouse together and buttoned it up.

Finally, she took a deep breath and turned to face Sam.

"What's in the glasses?" she asked, knowing that it was champagne or wine because she had heard the pop of the cork being removed from a bottle while Sam had been in the kitchen.

"Champagne," he said, stepping toward her with one of the glasses extended out to her. "I thought maybe a little of the bubbly might help cheer you up."

"You know that I can't drink while I'm nursing Erica," she said, stepping over to the couch.

"One glass can't hurt, can it?" he asked, hurt that he had spent the last of his money on the champagne and she wouldn't even drink it as he followed her to the couch and thrust the glass out at her again.

Looking him in the eye, she could see the hurt look. After all, he had spent his hard-earned money on it. One glass couldn't hurt since she had just finished nursing, could it? She remembered reading somewhere that a nursing mother could have one or two drinks, two to three hours before breast feeding. And since she had just finished with Erica, it would be three or four hours before Erica wanted more.

"Oh, okay," she smiled, taking the glass from him. When she did, she saw his eyes light up happily.

Hoping the champagne would loosen her up, Sam grinned and took a long drink of his champagne.

"Where did you get it?" she asked, taking a sip of hers as he sat down on the other end of the couch. "You aren't twenty-one . . ."

"Hank bought for me. He felt sorry for me. You know, Christmas and all," Sam grinned at her.

"I'll have to have a talk with Hank. I don't want you to become a souse," she scolded him, half-jokingly.

"I won't . . . besides who has the money? This is a special occasion. It's Christmas Eve," he told her.

"I know. I'm sorry for being an old poop," she laughed, taking another sip of her champagne. "Thank you . . ."

Then Melissa leaned over and turned off the lamp at the end of the couch, dousing the room in partial darkness as the only light in the room was the light coming from the lights of the little Christmas forlornly sitting in the corner all by itself. There were no presents under it and it looked so sad and alone as its little lights twinkled on and off.

The silence in the room was deafening as they sat looking out the bay window at the falling snow. Big fluffy flakes, lit by the street lights came floating down from the sky giving everything a fuzzy, blurry look. Mounds of snow covered everything taking away the sharp angles and giving the scene a soft, rounded appearance. Christmas tree lights winked on and off in the windows of the nearby houses painting the snow with the colors of Christmas.


"Pretty . . ." Sam murmured, turning to look at his mother.

"Yes," she murmured back.

"And so are you," Sam told her, feeling emboldened by the champagne, the darkness, and the quiet intimacy of the moment as the soft light coming in the window played across the silhouette of her pretty face.

Melissa slowly turned and looked at him. Time seemed to stop as neither of them spoke for the longest time. Then Melissa finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry that there won't be any gifts for Christmas this year," she told him. "We don't have any money and, and, well, there just won't be any presents . . ."

"That's okay, Mom," Sam said. "We've still got each other . . . that's all that counts . . ."

Her heart was bursting with love for the boy/man sitting down at the other end of the couch. He and little Erica were all she had left in the world. Arnold had taken everything from her and now this man sitting with her was her sanity, her anchor. He was the last thing she had to keep her from going stark, raving mad.

"Honey, come down her and sit by me . . ." Melissa murmured, patting the couch beside her. Even in the darkened room, Sam could see the love pouring from her eyes as she looked into his eyes. If only, he sickly thought. If only he could somehow turn that motherly love into something else. Turn it into the love a woman felt for a man. Her man!

Smiling, Sam slowly scooted down the couch until his hip was brushing against hers.

"Thank you so much, Honey, for just being you . . ." she softly murmured, leaning over and giving him as soft, lingering kiss on the cheek. As she did, her big, soft breast brushed against his arm causing his heart to start doing flip-flops down inside her chest.

He was so close, he feverishly thought to himself as his cock grew harder and harder down inside his pants. It took every last ounce of will power he possessed to keep from sweeping her into his arms and kissing her on the lips, but somehow he was able to find the strength to do so.

Then he felt her hand on his thigh, gently squeezing it as she leaned back away from him. He could feel the warmth of her hand through his pants as it rested only a few inches from his rock-hard, aching cock. What if she accidently touched it? Touched it and found out it was hard? What would she do? What would she think?

Surrounded by the sweet fragrance of her perfume, Sam drank in the sweet smell of honeysuckle and jasmine.

"If you had a wish . . . and I had a magic wand . . . what would be the one thing in the whole, wide world you would want for Christmas?" she whispered to him, giving his thigh another gentle squeeze.

Could he? Could he tell her that it was her? He wanted her more than anything else in the world? What would she do, if he did? Could he share his deep, dark secret with her? Would she let him share that secret with her?

His heart was pounding so hard he knew that it was going to explode and burst out of his chest at any second. There was at least a bale of cotton in his mouth and he didn't know if he could talk even if he wanted to. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The roaring in his ears was so loud, he couldn't think straight.


"Well . . ." she smiled at him from the darkness.

"YOU!" Sam blurted out, running his arm around her and pulling her to him. Then to her shock and amazement, he gave her a hard, demanding kiss right on her lips.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned back away from her and saw the look of confusion and panic in her wide-eyed look.

"What? What do you mean?" she gasped looking like she was just about to bolt and run as she stared at him in bewilderment.

"I mean, I mean that just being with, with you is the best Christmas present I could ever want," he was somehow able to choke out tasting her lipstick on her on his lips as he spoke.

As he sat watching her, the look of confusion and panic slowly turned back to the look of love he had seen before.

"Oh, my sweet, little Baby. You are such an angel," she cooed, leaning over and gently brushing her soft, full lips across his trembling lips.

"I love you so much, Mother . . ." Sam whispered, watching her as she leaned her head back against the couch, closed her eyes and took another sip of her champagne.

"I love you, too, Baby," she murmured, giving his thigh another gentle squeeze.

What did it all mean, Melissa asked herself, her mind muzzy from the champagne. Her first frantic thought had been that he, he wanted HER! Wanted her in that way. But he couldn't want that! Not that! Not from her! She was his mother! Then she remembered the look on his face when he had seen her breasts. It hadn't been the look of a son looking at his mother. It had been the look of a man . . . a man looking at a woman! But he couldn't think of her like that . . . could he? How could she find out? And what would she do if she found out she was right? It was all so bewildering seeing this new side of her son. A side of him that she had never even thought about.

But why did she find it all so perplexing? He was a man, wasn't he? A man at the peak of his sexuality, driven by hormones. It wasn't his fault the God had made things that way. She was just surprised that he was directing those urges toward her. As her reeling mind sorted through her thoughts, she found one, tiny fragment of pride. Proud that her own son found her attractive after she had been thrown aside by his father. That had been a damning blow to her ego, but now this! This latest show of affection from her son made her almost feel like a woman again.

Surely, you're not suggesting, her fevered brain asked? No, no, of course not. I just found it flattering. And it feels good to be flattered every once in a while. Anything wrong with that? She answered back.

No, as long as that's as far as it goes, she told herself.

What could he do, Sam frantically asked himself? What could he do to show his mother how he felt toward her? Without frightening her off. The look of panic when he had kissed her hadn't been a good sign. You've already kissed her, just keep on going. Just take it slow.


"Your lipstick tastes good," he softly said.

As he spoke Melissa slowly turned her head and looked over at him.

"It does?"

"Yes, it does," he smiled, his mind already racing for his next question.

"I never notice the taste. I guess a woman gets used to it after a while," she softly laughed.

Do it. Go there, Sam told himself. Don't stop now.

"Do your breasts hurt?" Sam blurted out, glancing down at her breasts then back up into her flared eyes.

"What?" she gasped. "What did you say?"

"I just wondered if your breasts hurt," he mumbled, glad for the darkness that hid the blush that was burning his cheeks.

Melissa sat looking into his eyes pondering his question for the longest time, wondering if she should answer him or not. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Sam, she spoke.

"Sometimes. Why do you ask?" she asked him.

"They're so big, and, and Erica is such a little girl. I don't see how she could ever drink that much. And I read that if a woman who is l—lac---lactating doesn't ex—express enough milk that they hurt," Sam boldly charged on.

"Yes, but there are ways. Other ways for a woman to express her, the milk," Melissa nervously answered.


"You mean, like, like a, a breast pump?"

"Yes, that is one way," she softly said.

"Do you have a breast pump?" he asked her.

"Yes, I have a breast pump," she told him, wondering what he was leading up to.

"I've never seen it," he said.

"I didn't think that it was something you needed to see," she bashfully explained.

"Oh . . ." he answered.

There was a long stretch of silence before he finally spoke again.


"Do your breasts hurt now?"

Melissa wondered how to answer him. Erica hadn't finished her supper and her left breast was beginning to ache just a little.

"Just a little bit," she finally mumbled. "Erica didn't finish tonight."

The silence was pregnant with the electric undercurrent of tension between them as they sat peering out into the dark Christmas Eve evening.

Then Sam turned and looked at his mother.

"Could, could I help . . ." Sam whispered.

Shocked by what she had just heard, Melissa felt her heart leap into her throat as she turned and stared into his eyes. A part of her wished there was more light so she could see what was in his eyes, but another part was glad there was the darkness the hide the blush burning her cheeks. What did he mean? Did he want to help her use her breast pump? Or did he want to, to nurse? She couldn't believe he had asked her to do that?


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11-28-2012, 08:38 AM
Post: #72
RE: Mother-Son Breast Feeding Incest Stories
"What? What do you, you mean?" she finally choked out.

"I, I just thought, I just wanted to help you, so they wouldn't, wouldn't be sore," he stammered, hoping that he hadn't ruined everything. "That's all, all I wanted . . ."

Melissa sat staring at him as her mind whirled around in confused chaos. How could he ask her such a thing? It was obvious that he was bent on seeing her breasts again and was using this as an excuse. But how could he be brave enough to actually ask her? What should she do? Slap him and bring him to his senses? Let it go and ignore it? Or?

"How?" she finally whispered, her voice quavering in the darkness.

"Uh, uh, you, you know, uh, I, I could, uh, help," he mumbled, unable to say the word.

"You mean nurse?" she asked him, unable to keep her lower lips from trembling.

"Uh, yes, uh, take some, some of the, the, your milk out so that your, your breast would stop . . . stop hurting," he mumbled, looking away, unable to look her in the eye.

Melissa was stunned by what he was suggesting. But even as her mind reeled at the thought of her son nursing on her breasts, a part of her reminded her that he had once done just that. She had nursed him as a child. But that was when he had been a child. Now, now he was a, a man . . .

He must want it so much to risk her ridicule and scorn if she told him no, she thought. Then another thought popped into her frantic brain. It was Christmas! Christmas and she had nothing to give him. But now she did. She could give him the gift he wanted so much. She could give him her milk! Once she said it to herself, it didn't sound so bad. And the more she thought about it, the more natural and right it seemed. She was just going to give him something he had once had anyway. So how could that be wrong? She had once nourished him with the same thing he now wanted so much, so how could it be wrong?

Then, as Sam continued to peer out into the night, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning toward his mother, he saw her hand lift up to the row of buttons running down the front of her blouse. Was she? Was she going to unbutton her blouse, he franticly asked himself? As if in answer to his silent prayer, he saw his mother's fingers slowly push the top button through its buttonhole.

"Mother . . ." Sam whispered as her fingers moved down to the next button and plucked it open.

"This will be your, your Christmas gift," she softly said, her fingers methodically moving down the front of her blouse opening button after button. "I have nothing else to give to you. This will be my gift to you . . ."

Sam couldn't speak as he watched her undo the last button. He was too overcome with the fiery excitement sparking through his reeling brain to speak. Then, as he sat gawking down at his mother's hands, he watched them slowly spread her blouse open to reveal the dangling treasures it had previously hidden from his leering eyes.

Suddenly the room was filled with light as his mother turned on the lamp at the end of the couch. But as she did, she pulled her blouse back together and pushed up to her feet.

"What? Where?" Sam gasped terrified that she was going to leave and take his presents away from him.

"The drapes. People can see inside," she whispered, stepping over to the big, bay window and quickly pulling the drapes together. Sam watched on in a stunned daze as his mother turned back around to face him and slowly peeled her blouse back over her shoulders to reveal her beautiful breasts again.

It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. They were beautiful, gorgeous, fantastic. Big, round, pendent spheres of pink flesh, each of them with a big, blue blood vessel running down their fronts as they hung down from her chest. Sam could see that they were quivering heavily as she slowly stepped toward him. Her nipples, hard and swollen pointed straight down at the floor as they stuck out of the circles of pebbled flesh at the bottom of her breasts. The areolas capping the ends of her big breasts was barely visible as it was almost the same pink color as the rest of her big, dangling breasts. Sam could see that the pendulous giants were gently bumping against one another as she made her way back to the couch.

As she bent to sit back down on the couch, the dangling, milk-laden udders rolled and shook, heavily bumping and banging together. Then she reached down and patted her thighs indicating that he was to use them as his pillows as he nursed.

Hurriedly scooting back down the couch, Sam rolled over onto his back and laid his head on her thighs. Staring up at the majestic globes of quivering pink flesh, he saw that the one of the big, rubbery nipples was only an inch away from his trembling lips.

Then he felt his mother's thighs rub against the back of his head as she scrunched down and lowered the hard, round nub down on his lips. His brain was in a muddled fog as he slowly opened his mouth and let the stiff, swollen nipple slip in between his lips. Pursing his lips around the nipple, he began to gently suck.

As he did, he was initially disappointed when the bloated nipple began to grudgingly give up its thin, watery milk. He had expected more. He had expected sweet, thick milk, not the thin watery fluid that was slowly trickling into his mouth. Thinking there would be more milk, he wondered if he was doing something wrong. Then, he began sucking harder, pulling and plucking at the rubbery nub with his lips. He was quickly rewarded when the amount of milk began to increase as it poured from the nipple.

Looking up over the swell of her big breast, Sam could see that she had eyes closed and her head resting against the back of the couch. Continuing to suck and pull on the spewing nipple, he found that the sweet nectar flowing from the rubbery pap was thickening and growing richer. Somewhere buried deep in his memory banks, the delicate, sweet, sugary flavor of her milk triggered forgotten memories of his childhood. He was a child again, nursing on the milky fountain that was giving up its thick, creamy milk. Sam was ecstatic, his now-mature body alive with excitement.

Swallowing as fast as he could he couldn't keep up with the flow of rich milk and some of leaked out and was churned into a frothy foam by his sucking lips. Some innate primal instinct was leading him along as he pushed his face into her breast with soft insistence. As he sucked and pulled on the spewing nipple her breast was disgorging its treasure into his mouth.

He couldn't get enough of the sweet, precious cream as more and more of it poured from her breast. Wanting more and more, he unconsciously raised his hand up to her breast and gently squeezed, tenderly, but insistently milking the soft, giving flesh.

Lying with her head resting against the couch, Melissa could feel her son's lips drawing out her milk. But at the same time, she was unable to stop the tingles of excitement his lips were eliciting from her sensitive nipple. Was it exciting him in that way, too, she wondered? There had to be some sexual element for him, didn't it? Was it giving him an erection? She anxiously wondered. She wanted to know. But at the same time, she didn't want to know. Afraid of what she might find out about her son's true feelings toward her.

The more she thought about it, the more the need to know grew inside her frantic brain. Just one tiny touch, she told herself. She could say that it was an accident. Tell him her hand had just slipped, she told herself as she slowly eased her hand along the cushion beside his hip. Turning slightly, she opened her eyes a tiny bit and saw that her hand was still on the couch, but now it was even with the big bulge jutting against the front of his pants.

She lifted her hand so slowly she could barely see it moving. Inching it over his groin, she let her fingers gently brush across the bulge. He was hard, she franticly thought! He had an erection! She had made him hard!

A spasm of excitement fired off inside Sam's reeling brain as he felt his mother's fingers brush against his hard, throbbing cock. She had touched him! Touched him there! What was happening? Why had she touched him—there? Did she want him to fuck her, too? It was almost too much to fathom, he feverishly thought as he continued to roughly nurse on her big, dangling breast.

What was she to do, she deliriously asked herself? She had already taken the first step down the slippery slope and now she felt herself sliding again. The sparks of excitement firing down from her tingling nipple had her clit hard as it throbbed with an aching need to be touched. They were so close to that point anyway, she told herself. But he is my boy, her weakening conscience fought back. You can't go there! But I want to, she screamed back at herself. I want to feel the touch of a man! I want a man to love me! Love me and make me a whole woman again!

Afire with excitement, Sam almost lost it and shot his wad when he felt his mother's fingers brush against his cock a second time. Then he was stunned when he felt the fingers slowly crawl down the whole length of his hard, aching cock and realized that his mother was unzipping his pants.

No one will know, Melissa told herself as she eased her fingers down inside his fly and searched for the opening in his shorts. It would their secret. A secret they would carry with them to their graves. No one could ever know about what was going to happen between them. Between mother and son . . . man and woman alone in the world with no one else to turn to.

Reaching over, she turned the lamp off again just as her fingers found the opening of his shorts. Melissa was having difficulty breathing as she slowly eased her fingers down into the tight opening. As her fingertips brushed against the hot skin of his hard penis sparks shot up her arm and burst inside her fevered brain. She was touching him she franticly thought. She was touching his cock! She was touching her son's penis!

God! Oh, God! Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, Sam silently screamed as he felt his mother's fingers curl around his hard, throbbing cock. It was happening. It was happening! It was really happening, he hysterically thought! The roaring in his ears was louder than a thousand locomotives. His heart was beating so fast and so hard, he knew that it was going to explode any second.

He had stopped sucking on her nipple the moment he had realized that she was unzipping his pants. But now his lips returned to the business of extracting out every last, delicious drop of her sweet milk. Milking her, he squeezed harder hoping to force every single drop of milk from its beautiful container. And as he did, he could feel his mother's fingers touching, squeezing, measuring his cock. At seven inches, he knew that his penis was bigger than most, but he wondered if his mother would think it was enough.

As his mother played with his cock, Sam sucked until the flow of milk began to decrease. Would she let him have her other breast, he wondered? Hoping she would, he gently ran his tongue over the lactating nipple and felt his mother's body stiffen in response. Surprised by his mother's reaction, he stopped sucking so hard and began to tease the big, swollen nipple with his tongue. Less and less milk flowed out, but his tongue became more and more insistent as he tickled and teased the nipple.


"Mmmmmmm . . ." she murmured out as Sam continued to tease and torment her big, puffy nipple.

As Sam played with her nipple, he felt his mother's legs slowly part. Then, another spasm fired off inside his brain when he felt his mother's pelvis tilt and gently press her pubis up against the back of his head.

Tweaking and toying with her nipple, Sam could no longer taste the intoxicating sweetness of his mother's milk. Even though the flow of milk had stopped completely, his mother made no effort to move her breast away from him.

Her fingers were working with more insistence as they squeezed and pulled at his cock while he raked his tongue all over her nipple.

As he played with her nipple, he heard her make soft, little mewing sounds while he continued to pull and nip at her bloated pap, massaging and kneading the soft flesh of her breast with his hands.

Thinking about what he was doing and what was bound to happen sent emotions flowing through his brain that were almost overpowering.

The soft, insistent pressure of her groin against the back of his head was growing harder and harder the longer he kept teasing her nipple.

Finally, he reluctantly let her big, bloated nipple slip out from between his lips. Slowly, he turned over onto his side being careful not to dislodge her groping fingers off his cock. Now with his cheek resting against her pubis, Sam slowly eased his hand down between the back of her thigh and the couch. Pushing harder, he pushed on it until his hand was between her legs. As he pushed, he felt his mother's legs slowly edge further apart.

Moving his hand higher, he felt his fingertips brush across the slippery smoothness of the crotch of her panties. Looking up, he saw that his mother had her eyes closed as she continued to squeeze and clutch his cock. Feeling around over the mound of her pussy, he found the leg hole of her panties. He could feel his fingers shaking as he slowly eased them down into stretchy opening. His fingertips quickly found the soft wetness as a soft murmur escaped from her lips. He felt his cock lurch as he explored the softness searching for the opening of her womanhood. Finding the moist slit, Sam pushed into it as his mother gave out another mewing murmur, her hips lifting as she took him inside her all the way up to the last knuckles of his fingers.

She was so soft, so warm, so wet, Sam thought to himself as he moved his fingers around inside her feeling the muscles inside her pussy clutch at his embedded fingers. Just as he had drunk from the wondrous fountain of her breast, he now wanted to taste her down there. Taste the sweet juices that were flowing from the seeping wellspring between her legs.

Pulling his fingers back out of the moist tightness, Sam reached over and slowly pulled his mother's hand back out through his fly. As he did, he saw her eyes flutter open as she looked down at him with a questioning look on her pretty face. Then, as she watched him, Sam rolled over and dropped down onto his knees in front of the couch. Crawling down until he was standing on his knees in front of her, Sam reached down and pushed her legs back together. He saw her eyes follow his hands as he ran them up her thighs to her hips. Pushing her skirt up around her waist, Sam dug his fingers down under the elastic waistband of her panties and began to tug them down over her hips. With her panties caught between her butt and the couch, Sam paused, not wanting to tear them.

As he did, he felt his mother push up and lift her butt up off the couch. With her panties no longer caught, Sam quickly pulled them down her thighs, over her knees and down off over feet. Dropping her wadded panties on the coffee table, he looked down at the darkened triangle between her legs. Wishing the light was on so he could see it, Sam reached down and gently pushed her legs apart.

Sam could barely make out the rift below the nest of dark curls as he slowly leaned down toward it. As he came closer, the sweet fragrance of her ripeness filled his nostrils with its intoxicating sweetness drawing him down to it. Then his nose brushed against the swirl of soft curls as he ran his lips and tongue over the soft flesh below it. As he did, he felt his tongue brush over the hard, little jut of her clit and another mewing murmur floated down to his ears.

Slipping his hands under the backs of his mother's thighs, Sam lifted and draped them over his shoulders as he buried his face in the soft warmth between her legs. Lovingly, he licked his tongue up the fleshy wound between the velvet-soft folds of flesh bounding it. Licking his way from the seeping slit at the very bottom, he licked up until his tongue brushed over the hard nub of her clit.

"Mmmmmm . . ." Melissa murmured out as she felt her son's tongue lick across her clit. Then she felt his tongue lick back down to the opening of her weeping vagina.

Stiffening his tongue, Sam pushed into her, thrusting his hardened tongue into her as deep as it would go. His lips were pressed against the soft folds of flesh bordering the deep hole as the curls above it brushed against his nose. Savoring the tart taste of her juices, Sam felt his mother's hot pussy nip at his tongue as he pushed into her deeper.

"My clit . . . lick my clit . . ." he heard her whisper out as she gently ground herself against him.

Melissa could feel the stubble on his cheeks rubbing against the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs as he slowly licked his way back up to her throbbing clit.

"Yesssssss . . ." she hissed, lifting her hands up to his head. Holding his head between her hands, she used her fingers to guide his rough, licking tongue to just the right spot as it flicked back and forth across the hyper-sensitive bud of nerves and skin.

Sam still couldn't believe it was all really happening as he eagerly attacked his mother's wiggly clit with his tongue. What a Christmas gift! It was the best gift he could ever receive. His mother! His mother and the wondrous secret that lay between her legs. The precious delicacy that he had sought for so long and now it would be his. His heart was singing with the happiness that filled it. What more could a boy ask for?

Running his hand along her hips, up under her skirt, he curled them around the soft, giving cheeks of her ass and pulled her to him.

Why didn't she feel guilty for doing what she was doing, Melissa asked herself? Letting her son touch her like he was should have elicited something. Something other than the warm glow of pleasure that was welling up from her nether regions. She could feel herself slipping ever closer to that climatic moment of pleasure that would fill her body and give her the release she so badly needed.

Sam could feel the muscles in her legs tightening as her inner thighs were pressing up against his cheek. Her legs were trembling as her thighs clamped tighter and tighter while her sharp fingernails dug into his scalp. As he ravaged her clit with his tongue, Sam was smearing the hot juices seeping out of her pussy all over it with his chin.

As she inched ever closer, Sam could feel her soft, round heels gently pattering against his back. He could feel her pushing his face into her pussy as she ground herself against him, moving her hips in little, round circles. The little nudges of her heels was growing harder and more frantic as the muscles in her legs tensed tighter and tighter.

Then all of a sudden Sam felt her heels dig into his back as his mother arched her back and crushed her pussy into his face.

"OhhhhhhGodddddddd . . ." she gasped out as she strained against him, her trembling legs tensed, shaking and quivering.

As she came, Sam kept licking and lapping at her clit pushing her higher and higher up her climatic peak. She was straining so hard, her whole body was shaking from the effort as she came and came.

Melissa's world was filled with flashes of brilliant colors of every hue and shade as pure, sweet pleasure welled up from her pussy and filled her reeling brain with its intoxicating sweetness. It had never been like this with Arnold, she feverishly thought. Nothing had ever been this good. Never before. . . .

All at once, with a soft groan, Melissa's muscles went slack as she slumped back against the couch. As she melted back against it, her arms dropped back down onto the cushions and her head tilted to the side resting on her shoulder.

Smiling happily, Sam gently eased her legs off his shoulders and set her feet back on the floor. As he did, her lifeless legs splayed out to the side and opened her secrecy to him. Reaching down, Sam adoringly brushed his fingertips over the open, gaping wound as it continued to ooze out her fragrant juices. He had never felt such love before. He had always loved his mother, but not in this way. This was a love so deep, so profound he knew that he would never be able to love another woman in this way. It was an obsessive, all-consuming love that filled his heart with its fiery passion.

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11-28-2012, 08:39 AM
Post: #73
RE: Mother-Son Breast Feeding Incest Stories
Staring down at her with love-filled eyes, Sam pushed up to his feet. Unbuttoning his shirt, he peeled it back over his shoulders and let it drop on the coffee table beside her discarded panties. Then, as he reached down to the button on the waistband of his pants, he saw his mother's eyes flutter open. Looking up at him, she raised her head off her shoulder and dropped her eyes down to his hands as Sam slowly peeled open his pants to reveal his white, jockey shorts. Letting go of his pants, he let them rustle down his legs and puddle around his ankles.

Then as his mother's gawking eyes watched, he eased his thumbs under the stretchy waistband of his shorts. Pausing, he prolonged the moment of truth as the tension crackling around them grew louder and louder. As his mother waited, Sam took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly pushed his shorts down over the swell of hips and let his stiff, jutting cock flop out into the open.

As he did, he saw his mother's eyes momentarily flare wider as she gaped down at the evil ogre sticking out of his groin. Leaning down, he pushed his shorts down his legs, then stood back up and stepped out of them and his pants. Standing before his mother, naked as the day she had expelled him out into the world, Sam saw her staring at his penis as it twitched and bobbed up and down in front of her.

Sam knew what would come next, but he was unsure of how to start it. Then he watched on as his mother lifted her hand and almost as if in awe of the vile creature, slowly ran her fingertips along its shaft as it twitched and jerked under her fingers.

The pounding of his heart sounded like a bass drum as time seemed to stand still while she gently fondled his manhood. Then she lifted her other hand and tenderly cradled his impatience between her hands as she slowly leaned toward it. Sam watched on, paralyzed and unable to move as his mother's soft, full lips opened and slowly closed down around the shaft of his penis just below the flared rim of its swollen head. He felt his cock give an involuntary jerk as his mother slowly twirled her hot, soft tongue around the sensitive, bloated head of his penis.

Then one of her hands slowly dropped down and gently cupped his big balls as they hung down below his cock in their saggy sac. Lifting them in the palm of her hand, she gave them a squeeze just as she began to softly suck and pull on his cock with her lips.

Fighting off the urge to empty his balls into her mouth in one fiery blast, Sam held back from lunging forward and driving his cock into her mouth as deep as it would go.

"Mother . . ." he groaned as he felt her tongue licking back and forth across the cleft where the head joined the shaft.

With his cock still imprisoned in her mouth, Sam watched as she looked up at him and gently sucked while she stared into his eyes. The gesture was the most sensuous, erotic thing Sam had ever seen as he fought to keep from coming.

Still staring up into his eyes, Melissa opened her mouth and backed it off his big, spit-slickened peter. Easing her hand out from under his balls, she lowered her hands down to the couch and turned on her butt. Keeping her eyes on his, she eased down onto her back. Resting the back of her head on the arm of the couch, she slowly lifted one long leg up onto the couch.

Sam was in a euphoric daze as he watched his mother lift that leg up and drape it along the back of the couch. With its ankle hooked over the edge of the couch back, she gradually spread her other leg out from the couch and the opening between her legs grew wider and wider. At last she was fully spread and open for him as he gawked down at the darkened opening between her legs. Sam could see that her pussy was wetly glimmering in the dim light coming from the Christmas tree.

As she lay on her back, gravity was pulling her big, heavy tits to the side as they lay resting on her arms.

Lifting his knee up on the couch, Sam leaned down over her as her hands found his cock.

Lifting his body, he slowly kissed his way up her neck. Stopping for a moment, he gently nibbled at the soft, fragrant skin just below her chin. Then his lips traveled up over her chin and quickly down onto her lips.

"Oh, Sammie," she groaned, letting go of his cock and pulled his face down against hers.

With their lips crushed together their bodies molded together as they kissed.

As the heated passion of the moment flowed through Sam's fevered brain, Sam suddenly felt the head of his aching cock brush against the velvety softness between her legs. Now nothing separated him from the fleshy opening of her womanhood. There was nothing that could stop him from plundering the precious treasure that lay awaiting him. Then, as he felt the tip of his cockhead ease down into the moist warmth, he felt his mother gently tilt her hips and gently press back against him.

Holding himself back one moment longer to prolong the anticipation, he ground his lips against hers and slowly slid his tongue into her mouth.

Suddenly, he felt his mother's hands leave his head and land down on his tightly-clenched ass. Grabbing hold of his ass, she dug her long, sharp fingernails down into his skin. Sam couldn't hold back any longer and slowly pushed the head of his cock down into the tight, clutching heat of his mother's hungry pussy.

"OhhhGoddddd . . ." he heard his mother gasp as their lips parted and their bodies slowly became one.

Gasping for breath, Sam felt beads of perspiration pop out on his forehead. He was feverish with excitement as he pushed into her. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he didn't care. Now there was nothing that could stop them as they plunged into the wicked, depraved depths of incestuous love.

Finding her lips again, he hungrily kissed her thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth as his cock slowly made its way down into the fiery core of her womanhood. Could it really be happening, he wondered. Or was this all just a dream concocted by his sick, twisted brain? But there was no denying the wondrous feeling of pleasure welling up from his peter as it slipped deeper and deeper into the clutching depths of her pussy. He was indeed fucking his beautiful, sweet mother. He knew he would go to hell for what he was doing, but he didn't care. It would be worth it, because he was finally living out his dream. He was fucking his mother!

His cock was nearing the end of its fantastic journey as he felt his groin nudge up against the nest of curls covering the tip of his mother's belly. Savoring the fiery passion of the moment, he held himself thrust down inside the tight, burning sheath of silky-soft flesh as it clenched and squeezed itself down around his buried manhood.

As wonderful as the physical side of fucking her was, the emotional side was even more exciting and moving. He was fucking his MOTHER! And not only that, she was a willing conspirator in the act. And as long and as much as he had wanted her, he would never have been capable of taking her without her consent and cooperation.

The momentous magnitude of what was happening between them was not lost on Sam as he lay on top of his mother with his penis buried down inside her vagina. Their whole world had changed the moment he had entered the sacred sanctity of her most secret of secret places.


"Oh, Mother . . ." he gasped when their lips finally parted.

"Oh, Sammie, My Baby, " she cried out, thrusting herself up against him grinding her pubis against his.

His whole body had once been where his penis now was. Just the thought of that made Sam giddy with amazement. Buried down inside his origin, his source, the fiery crucible where he had formed and been nourished by his mother. Now he was inside her again, but with such a wicked, depraved difference. Basking in the harmonious union of their bodies, Sam almost felt afraid to move. Afraid he would break the spell and his mother would disappear.

Finally, almost overcome by the wondrous feelings welling up from his cock, he gently, almost hesitantly pulled back and eased his big penis back down the tight, clutching sheath of satin-smooth flesh. He saw his mother's eyes flutter shut as he pushed back down into the fiery channel of clutching silk.

Their groins nudged against one another a second time as a soft murmur escaped from her lips. Then he began to fuck her with slow, deep thrusts as she pulled on his ass, pulling him deeper inside her on every jarring stroke. Then he felt her leg drop down off the couch as her knees splayed out and the backs of her ankles curled around the backs of his thighs.

"Yes, yes, my Baby, yes, fuck your Mother, fuck her—" Sam heard her gurgle. Her choice of words made him feel as if her mind had become separated from her body and her body had become the mother while her mind was an innocent bystander goading him on. Maybe in that way, she could somehow deny the horrible fact that her son was fucking her . . . and that she was willingly participating in the horrid travesty.

Feeling something warm and wet on his chest, he looked down and saw that both of her big tits were oozing out precious drops of her white mother's milk. He couldn't explain why, but that made the whole lurid scene even more depraved and wicked as he began to pump into her harder and faster.

The solemn silence of the Christmas Eve night was broken by the obscene sounds of their bodies slapping together as they fucked. Both of them were making soft grunting sounds as they threw themselves at each other while the springs in the couch joined in with their own cacophonous music. Totally absorbed and focused on each other and their lustful pursuit of gratification, they were completely oblivious of the snow as it continued to drift down from the leaden skies outside.

Franticly humping away at the hot, sucking hole between her legs, Sam bent down and crushed his lips on hers again. His mother returned his kiss, and soon their tongues were sinuously curling and twisting around each other inside their mouths.

Then his mother let out an agonizing gasp into his mouth as she went stiff and strained up against him. Her nails dug into his ass and pulled him down inside her pussy as spasms of pleasure undulated through it.

The passion that was pouring through his fevered brain rapidly blossomed into a white-hot spasm of ecstasy as the tension in his loins reached the melting point.

"Moomph!" he gasped to warn her but it was too late as his cock violently erupted down inside the tight, clutching sheath and sent a huge gusher of white-hot cum spurting out into his mother's vagina.

Their lips broke as they gasped to catch their breath while the waves of their orgasms washed over their bodies drowning both of them its wonder.

"Oh, Sammie . . ." Melissa gurgled, wrapping her legs around his waist and pushing her hips up against him taking him inside her as deep as she could as his cock continued to buck and jerk, spurting out its noxious load of cum into her.

"Mother—Mother—Mother—" Sam panted as he felt her thighs squeezing down around his waist.

"Sammie, My, Baby..." she cried, her voice softening into a whimper as his body continued to spasm and writhe.

Over and over again, he felt his cock jerk and spurt gusher after gusher of his thick, hot cum deep into his mother's hungry, sucking pussy. It was pure heaven as wave after wave of pleasure washed over his body.

"Oh, My, God, Mother, I Love You so much," he gasped thrusting into her every time his cock fired.

Finally, his reservoir of cum was expended and he had nothing left to give her as his cock relented and stopped firing off inside of her. Exhausted by the huge expenditure of physical and emotional energy, Sam collapsed down on top of his mother.

Neither of them spoke as they lay pressed against each other for several moments before Melissa slowly unwrapped her legs from around his waist and lowered them down onto the couch. Then, as if reading each other's minds they began kissing, lovingly fondling and caressing each other.

Finally, nature ruled and Sam's big, soft peter came slurping out his mother's cum-filled pussy followed by a stream of his cum. Then she lifted her arm and looked down at her wrist watch.

"Merry Christmas," she murmured, smiling up at him and giving him a tender, loving kiss on the lips. . . .

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11-28-2012, 08:39 AM
Post: #74
RE: Mother-Son Breast Feeding Incest Stories
Derek was surprised by the news that his mother was having another child. It didn't bother him much that Tom, the man his mother had married, was ten years her junior. It didn't even bother him that his mother didn't wait more than two years after his father's death to make Tom her husband. What did bother him was that he was no longer "the baby."

After the announcement, his mother rarely spoke of the child that was growing inside her and wreaking havoc on her moods. Instead, she focused their talks on his college studies, his plans for internships and if he would make it home for fall break. Luckily for Derek, the baby was born a week before fall break began. Tom had phoned him to let him know his mother was in labor, but she insisted that he remain at the university and not miss any of his classes.

Because his mother spoke little of the baby, he had no idea until he arrived at home for fall break that the tiny bundle he held for the first time was going to be such a lovely little girl. Her weight seemed almost nothing in his strong arms. She was a blind wriggling little thing that made him feel awkward and in awe at the same time. Derek handed his baby sister back to his mother. As he watched the two together he felt envy invade his body. The way his mother's face softened and her voice rose to a sweet octave when she spoke to the baby girl made him feel ill. He turned his attention to Tom and engaged him in a conversation about the ball game set to air the following evening. It was an effort, but Derek was almost able to ignore the gentle caresses and soft kisses exchanged between his mother and sister.

"I apologize, Derek. I haven't had the energy to cook. I've been unable to prepare your favorites."

"It's fine mother." Derek said without turning to face her.

"No. It's not." In a small space of silence he felt her gaze. When his eyes met hers she said, "But I promise for Thanksgiving. No holds barred."

"It'll be quite a spread," Tom said. He rose to his feet and took their child into his arms. The baby made a soft cooing sound at the agitation. Tom exited the room, leaving Derek and his mother alone for the first time since he had arrived.

Without the infant's weight in her arms, his mother allowed herself to relax on the cushions of the sofa. The image of his mother had always been that of a young vibrant woman. She was girlish and fresh of face with sparkling hazel eyes. Looking at her now he saw her as haggard and aging. It made him feel sad to see the way sleep deprivation was taking their toll on her beautiful face.

It was uncomfortable, this new association they now had. Normally he'd be next to her on the couch engaging in an animated conversation about school and campus life well into the late night hours. Now Derek watched his mother's lids grow heavy and her head bob from left to right as she fought with sleep.


"Mother."

"Yes, Derek?"

"I'm going to go out for a while." He walked over to the couch to stand over her. "Why don't you lay down here and get some rest?"

"No. No. I wanted to talk with you. Catch up for a while."

"We'll have time for that. Here. Lie down." He pulled the afghan from the back of the sofa and tented it over his mother's body until she obeyed and stretched out. He covered her then tucked the edges of the afghan under her.

By the time he lowered his head to kiss her on the cheek, her eyes were already shut and her breathing was slow and even.


* * *


It was some time after three in the morning when Derek returned home. He slipped in through the kitchen door that let him in from the garage. Getting out of the house helped Derek's mood a little bit. He caught up with some friends from the neighborhood. He allowed them to divert his attention from the strangeness that had befallen his childhood home. Derek hadn't expected the arrival of a baby to change everything. There was no welcome home meal, the baby now occupied his old room and there wasn't the warm comfort of his mother.

Derek made his way to the refrigerator, thinking that there might be some of his favorite ingredients for a sandwich there. A sliver of light from the baby's room sliced down the dark hallway and caught his attention. He ignored his craving for a sandwich and walked down the hall, hoping his mother would be inside.

His mother was seated in the rocker with her feet up on an ottoman. She had apparently taken a shower sometime since his absence. Her brown hair was glossy and luxurious. It fell in soft waves, signifying a natural curl which he had inherited. Her legs were crossed at the ankles atop the ottoman but were covered completely by a fluffy turquoise robe. The fabric fell open at her naval to expose a very full breast at which his baby sister was nursing.

He stood in the doorway for a long moment and gazed at the pale flesh of his mother's breast. He hadn't taken notice of her breasts before, but then again they hadn't been exposed in this way until now. Her breast was pale and full and tremendously larger than it had been when he'd left for school that summer. His eyes moved over the surface of that breast. He wanted to see more, more of that lovely breast that disappeared into a round apex inside his baby sister's mouth.

"Derek." His mother's whisper startled him. "I didn't hear you come in."

Derek stepped into the doorway. His eyes fluttered from his mother's face, to her breast, to the girly décor and back to her breast. "I used the garage. I didn't want to wake..."

"Oh. She's divine. She wakes to be fed and goes right to sleep." His mother caressed the dark spiral of fine hairs on top of the baby's head. "So unlike you at this age."

"How so?" Derek felt offended at the comparison. He walked further into the room. The new point of view confirmed his mother's breasts had tripled in size. His baby sister's hungry mouth pulled greedily at the nipple and made the engorged flesh of his mother's breast jostle a little with every suckle she made.

"You were so needy. You rarely slept when you were supposed to. After nursing, you would lie awake in my arms for several minutes looking up at me before falling to sleep." Derek's eyes met hers. "Oh, how I loved nursing you. It felt so good." His mother's gaze fell away to the floor before she went on to say, "Well, to build that connection with you early on was very important."

"Probably the reason we're so close now," Derek said.

He took a seat on the floor across from his mother. He tried to not stare at her breast and her almost fully exposed cleavage inside the robe. It was difficult but he managed to keep his eyes at the bottom of his mother's slippers until he heard an audible suck. He looked up to see his mother disengaging the baby from her breast with her index finger. Derek's gaze fixed on the glistening surface of his mother's nipple. The areola was a dusty pink and it spread wide across her breast. As he watched, its surface grew taunt, undoubtedly from the coolness of the room. He didn't know how long he was looking. He didn't know if his mother was allowing him to look, but eventually she pulled the collar of her robe closed and tucked it further into the sash.

Once the visual stimulation was gone Derek's eyes floated up to his mother's face. It was placid but a slight blush warmed her face from her cheeks to her forehead. Derek wondered if his attention had made her blush. If it did she didn't acknowledge in any way. She stood slowly with the baby cradled against her shoulder.


"Would you like to burp her?"

"No thank you."

Derek's mother paced a small square in the bedroom. She hummed some unfamiliar tune all the while patting the new baby's back. Derek leaned back on his hands, closed his eyes and listened to the pleasant resonating melody. His mind drifted back to his childhood. His parents remained married until his father's death. Derek and his mother spent the majority of the time alone in the house while his father was away on business. They relied on each other and confided in one another. Their bond extended past the womb and Derek missed their connection deeply. Though he would never want harm to come to the baby, he had to admit to wishing his mother and Tom had gotten a dog instead.

"Looks like it's all of our bedtimes."

Derek worked to open his eyes then stood. "You're right."

When his mother finished tucking the baby into the crib he made his way toward her. She held her arms open to receive his hug which was tight and lingering.

"Good night, Derek darling," she said with a kiss on his cheek.


"Good night, mother."

In the guest bedroom, Derek looked down at the folded linens on top of the bare mattress with disgust. Instead of spending the time to make the bed properly, he snapped the flat sheet on top of the mattress and curled up under the comforter. The moonlight shone through the window. The sheer draperies prevented the room from being completely dark, the way Derek liked. He tossed and turned because of it, but it wasn't the only reason he couldn't fall asleep. The vision of his mother's breasts materialized behind his closed lids. He saw first one breast, peeking out from her robe and then the other became fully exposed. His mother caressed it with her long delicate fingers. Derek rolled onto his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut and he tried to bring more detail to his fantasy. He envisioned the way her breasts would look if they were pressed together and how both nipples would look glistening with saliva.

His pillow became the fullness of his mother's bosom. He stroked his face against it. He breathed in deeply to inhale her familiar scent. The smell of her hair, along with the scent of her bath soap remained on him from their hug goodnight. Derek brushed his face back and forth against the pillow, seeking the soft fullness of each breast, all the while he worked his erection into the mattress to ease a tension that had been building for weeks. The large milk filled rounds smothered his face and cut his breathing long enough for ecstasy to seize deep within his loins. A surge of pleasure flooded his body and left his boxers wet and sticky.


* * *


The next day Derek did what he could to avoid being in the same room with his mother. He volunteered to help Tom organize the things that were moved from his old room into the basement. They worked hard for a few hours before Derek's mother called for them to come up for lunch. Despite the delicious aroma of his favorite casserole, he declined the invitation and kept working in the basement.

A small stack of boxes and plastic tubs were the final obstacles blocking a cleared path from the basement door to the farthest wall. Derek judged the weight of each box and container by restacking them on the floor. Their weight wasn't overwhelming. He was able to lift all of them and carry them to a place alongside the Christmas decorations. Derek had almost placed the stack in its new location when the top box toppled over, spilling the contents across the basement floor.

He sat on the cold cement and scraped remnants of his childhood back into the box. There were Boy Scout patches, newspaper clippings and old report cards. He tucked them all neatly away. All that was left were some old muscle car magazines. He picked up the first handful of magazines. The cover slipped off one and out fell a March 2001 issue of Bazooms.

A sultry Ms. Alicia Kane stared up at him through false lashes. Her ample chest was running over the cups of her red corset while she leaned over the back of a railed chair. Her teased dark hair hid her backside which he remembered to be just as luscious as her breast. He flipped to the centerfold. Derek's cock flinched with excitement. His mind reeled with every stolen moment he spent with Ms. Alicia Kane. There wasn't a January and February issue. There weren't any April to December issues either. Her sparkling hazel eyes and half dollar sized, dusty pink nipples were all he needed to covet. He flipped the page. Ms. Alicia Kane squeezed her large breasts together. Their fullness couldn't be completely held back by her delicate fingers. He knew with clarity what was on the next page. The anticipation of seeing her groomed mons pricked the hairs on his arms. He turned the page slowly, teasing himself.

"Derek?" His mother called from the top of the stairs.

Hurriedly Derek stuffed the false cover on the magazine and threw it into the box.

"Are you still down here?" His mother descended the stairs.

Derek's fingers fumbled with the slick covers of the other magazines. They fell from his grasp several times before he gained control and was able to slam them on top of the cherished Bazooms issue. Derek replaced the lid on the box in time for his mother to find him standing in the cold, dank basement with tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip and brow.

"Oh there you are." She looked around and said, "You two have made quite a difference down here." She gave Derek a pleased smile. He watched her beautiful hazel eyes twinkle. "You must be very..." His mother's smile faded slowly as she took in the sight of her disheveled and aroused son.

Derek felt his heart and his cock throb in unison while he stood in the light of his mother's praise. It was several seconds before a twinge of embarrassment commanded his arms to pick up the box of his childhood accomplishments and hold it in front of him.

His mother turned her shoulder to him and spoke, "You must be very hungry from all this strenuous work."


"I think I have an appetite now."

"Good. I'll make you a plate." His mother strode briskly to the stairs without looking back.

* * *


Derek's mother mentioned that Tom had been called into work and wouldn't return until the following evening. She relayed Tom's apologies for not being home to send him off. Derek didn't mind at all but said that he was regretful as well because it seemed like the appropriate thing to say. Inside, Derek was glad. He grew more content as he ate alone at the kitchen table while his mother tended to the baby. The atmosphere in the house had changed. It wasn't what it was when he first arrived at home, but it wasn't what it used to be either. Whatever it was the air was pleasing and it made Derek smile.

Derek helped his mother clean the kitchen and clear the dishes. They stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink. Derek's mother washed and he rinsed. They worked in silence for a while. By the time they emptied the sink their banter flowed with an insouciant tone. Derek breathed easier when he saw that the glow was back on his mother face and her youthfulness sprang from her laughter.

Mother and son retired to the living room. They caught up. Derek allowed their sofa to envelop him and the warmth of his mother's attention to caress him. The two of them discussed what courses he should take the following semester and what dorm life was like.

"It's nothing like the comforts of home," Derek said.

She patted his knee then said, "Nothing is ever going to be."

"But now with the baby..." Derek let his voice trail off. He wasn't sure what he was planning to say. All he knew was that he didn't want to spoil this moment by criticizing his mother for bringing yet another life into their world or even make her feel guilty for doing so.

"She's a joy. Speaking of the baby, I'm going to need to feed her soon." Derek's mother touched the sides of her breasts and winced.

"Does it hurt?" Derek asked. He visualized in that quick moment that his mother's breasts were quivering just a little as if they hadn't been held back in her bra or covered ashamedly by the oversized button down shirt she wore.


"They are tender."

"No. I mean...when you..."


"Nurse?"

"Yeah."

Derek's mother smiled then said, "At first, but the tenderness goes away and...well..." The blush that was on his mother's face the night he beheld her bare breast crept up her face. "I guess it helps to massage them sometimes."

Derek and his mother held each other's gaze while she worked her right hand up her shirt and began to rub. Derek was captivated. A bolt of lightning could have struck in the middle of the living room and he would have remained captivated by the outline of his mother's hand moving from her left breast to the right one.

Something took over his body. It was curiosity. It was dare. It was arousal. Whatever it was, it made him feel like his actions were not his own. He felt like he had stepped out of his body to watch himself, as if he and his mother were in a movie. It was a movie he had wanted to see so terribly bad for so many years that he didn't want to stop himself. He didn't sound like himself when he asked, "Mother, may I?" as he took hold of the bottom button of her shirt.

Without hesitation, Derek's mother nodded. Derek worked quickly to open the buttons. Her chest and tops of her breasts were flushed bright pink. Her chest rose with her deep breaths. She did nothing to cover herself. She allowed Derek to gaze at her for as long as he liked. Derek's mother moved her hands in seductive motions over her bra while he watched. Her delicate fingers traced the thick lace that completely covered her gorgeous mounds.

"Open it," Derek mouthed, eyes transfixed.

With trembling hands Derek's mother peeled down the covering of the bra cups. The sight she revealed made Derek's throat go dry and his palms itch to touch her breasts. The triangular structure of the bra framed each exquisite breast as if it were being served on a tray. Derek reached for one. He let his hand hover over his mother's left breast then he looked her in the eye for confirmation. He held his breath, afraid she would change her mind and terrified and thrilled that she wouldn't. Derek's mother's lips parted slightly. She lifted her chest. Derek closed the space between his hand and her breast. The coolness of his skin met the heat of hers and they both shuddered.

Surging with delirium and excitement Derek explored his mother's breasts. He satiated his curiosity taking note of their weight and their texture. Derek positioned himself closer to her breasts so that his face was inches from them. The heat of her body rose into his face along with her power fresh scent. Unable to control himself or even care if he had permission, he plunged his face into her cleavage. Derek's mother took in a sharp breath. He nuzzled between her breasts. They became a cushiony wall on either side of his face, gently smashing his eyes closed. Unabashedly he licked the soft underside of her right breast. The soft feel of her skin on his tongue sent a shiver down his torso, spurring him to do the same to the left one. His mother squirmed under his touch. Derek knew that her breasts were tender and sensitive so he adjusted his fervor down but took an instant liking to her responsiveness.

It thrilled him to watch what kisses around her nipples did to her. He delighted in seeing her eyes drift closed when he rubbed his cheek on the soft well formed peaks of her breast. But it was when his mouth finally found their way to a nipple that they both went into another realm of discovery.

His mother's nipples were the irresistible texture of rose petals. It was all he could do to keep from biting down into them. He lifted his head enough to stare down at them. Their dark blush color pleased him but their size made his cock pulse with the need to be stroked. Derek moved down to his knees on the floor and stretched his body between his mother's legs. He gently urged her to continue to lie back so he could come to meet her breasts with his mouth. In slow succession he tasted her nipples. Each one received the languid attention of his wet tongue. Now and again he would look down at them to burn into his mind how his mother's nipples looked with his saliva glistening on them.

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11-28-2012, 08:39 AM
Post: #75
RE: Mother-Son Breast Feeding Incest Stories
Derek lowered his head once more. His tongue swirled around a nipple starting on the outside edge of the areola and then closing to the tight peak of the nipple, then out again before closing his entire mouth around it. It was when he began to suck that his mother let out a moan that resonated so deeply within Derek that he had to clinch his lower body to keep from exploding all over himself.

"Oh my," his mother said breathlessly.

As she continued to moan, Derek continued to suck. He moved his mouth in massaging motions across her nipple and breast. She moaned and moaned. Throaty, horny sounds rose from her. Her body writhed and stilled, writhed and stilled, writhed and stilled, then quivered in a ripple of muscle contractions. Derek felt them begin in her lower extremities and soar over the rest of her body.

Derek slowed his suckling just when a drop of watery sweet milk flowed into his mouth. He bucked his hips into the sofa cushion. He was in sensory overload. Unwillingly he released his mother's nipple and smothered himself in her cleavage as his pleasure rose like a rocket and exploded through him until he too was a quivering mess.

Derek's senses returned slowly. The sound of his mother's steady heartbeat drummed in his ear. He felt his mother stroking his hair. He swallowed hard. The taste of his mother's milk lingered on his tongue. With a deep cleansing breath he was refreshed with the clean earthy smell of his mother. He worked his eyes open. Sparkling down at him was the blissful gaze of his mother.

An urgent cry sounded over the baby monitor sending both of them upright in alarm. Derek disengaged himself from between his mother's legs hesitantly to allow her to tend to the baby needing her attention in the other room.


* * *


The fall semester was passing by as fast as the autumn leaves could drop from the maple trees on campus. Derek's mother phoned him with the same devotion as before. There was no mention of the time on the sofa that evening while Tom was gone. There was no talk of the baby. They only conversed about his studies, how much he missed her cooking and what she was working on around the house.

Derek didn't go home for Thanksgiving. His mother had agreed to visit Tom's parents in New England so they could see the baby for the first time. Derek was disappointed. A large percentage of the students in his dorm went home for the holiday. Even though many of them extended invitations to him to join them, he declined. He used the time to get a head start on some term papers. He wasn't alone though, he had smuggled Ms. Alicia Kane into his suitcase before he headed back to school after fall break.

He looked forward to spending Christmas at home. His mother swore that the Thanksgiving feast she had promised would be carried over to Christmas. Plus, Derek was already in the Christmas spirit. He bought his mother a gift online, a top of the line breast pump with a card that read:

Use it and think of me.


Your loving son,



Derek

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