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Chapter 11 — The Next Generation
After a long interim, I have returned to my most popular series. If you’re not familiar with the Mother & Son: A Love Story series, you should read 1. Christmas with Mom, 2. New Year’s Eve with Mom and the entire Mother & Son: A Love Story set…all amongst what most readers consider my best work. I look forward to hearing your comments and thoughts about this story which I hope to continue with others.
As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters within being fictitious as well. Enjoy!
It didn’t take the sidelong glances and surreptitious stares of the other diners in the restaurant to cue me in that I was sharing a table with the sexiest and loveliest woman in the establishment. The fact that I had known the woman all my life didn’t inure me of the fact either nor did the fact that the woman was my mother deter me from possessing such lustful desires for her. The truth is, I have always loved my mother more than anyone else and especially since puberty clued me in that love has many facets. I didn’t only love Mom, I was in love with Mom.
Mom radiated such intense sexuality, it was a wonder that anyone could gaze at her long without going blind. Thankfully, instead of striking me sightless, her sheer carnality just fueled my longing for her. My heart beat wildly as I watched her sitting across from me, toying with her pasta, her brilliant green eyes seeming to peer into my soul as she coyly smiled at me.
For our evening out, Mom had chosen a strapless black dress with a plunging neckline that exposed much of her heavy, but still firm breasts and put her lovely shoulders on display. After years of wearing her black hair long, Mom had recently cut it much shorter, reminding me of that actress in “Ghost” from years ago. Out of sight underneath the table, but nevertheless on my mind was the short hem of her dress — when standing, it ended at mid thigh showing off her lovely legs — her outfit made complete by the three inch stilettos on her dainty feet. Mom was a voluptuous package in a skimpy dress and it thrilled me that she had chosen it for tonight…an intimate dinner with her son.
Mom smiled at me and then said softly in her lilting Tennessee accent, “You’re awfully quiet tonight, sugar. Penny for your thoughts?”
I shrugged my shoulders — an expression I had often been informed was exactly like my dad’s and replied, “Just amazed that I’m the one sitting here with such a beautiful woman, Mom.” I paused and said, “I can’t begin to imagine how I got so lucky.”
Mom blushed a little and said, “Well, thank you, Tommy…you’re a silver tongued devil just like your daddy.” It was hard to tell in the dim light of the Italian restaurant, but it seemed liked the blush was spreading down to her neck and exposed upper chest. There was a little wobble in her breasts as she seemed to breathe a little faster. “You know, son…you could call me Molly now. You’re eighteen…we’re both grown-ups.” Mom gave me a speculative look as she said the last few words.”
I nodded and said, “Molly…I guess I could get used to that, but…even when I call you that, in my heart, I would always mean Mom. Whatever else may be…you’ll always be Mom to me.”
That seemed to please my mother and she nodded. “I know…you have my blessing to call me Molly whenever you want, but I like hearing you call me Mom. I’ll be honest, sugar — I like the way you say it…I always have.” She reached out and took my hand and squeezed it gently. “Speaking of whatever else may be…I reckon there’s a few things we really need to talk about, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” I replied in almost a whisper — my mouth suddenly dry and my heart beating even faster.
Mom smiled at me and said, “Well, you’re eighteen now…you’re no fool. You know how things are with me and your Dad and Mom-Carrie. How they were with Mom-Deb and Mom-Carrie and your Dad and me. We’ve talked many times over the years about what might happen when you became a man. You’ve never asked about the possibilities, but I know you have feelings for me…feelings beyond what’s traditional between a mother and son.”
My mother’s face was definitely on fire now…for such a sexual woman, I was almost amazed that Mom seemed to be embarrassed. She plunged on, her fingers wrapped so tightly around mine that it was almost painful. “When…when you asked me out to dinner…asked me to go on a date with you, I knew that finally the time had come. You’re eighteen, Tommy. You’re a man now. You and I can finally talk about it.”
I had a funny grin on my face and in a raspy voice said, “Talk about what, Mom?”
Mom barked a short laugh and said, “Don’t you dare play coy with me, Matthew Thomas Hamilton. We’re going to talk about us becoming lovers!” Mom’s eyes were almost alit with green fire…denoting the carnal passion that I had only seen her have for Dad and Mom-Carrie and in my distant memory, Mom-Deb.
I shook my head slowly and said, “No, Mom…I didn’t eve gelen escort ask you here to talk about becoming lovers.”
Mom’s eyes went wide and she gasped. I felt her fingers loosen around mine and she began to sit back in her chair, but I tightened my grip on her hand even as she replied in a very quiet and shocked voice, “You…Tommy, you don’t want to be my lover?”
Never letting go of her hand, I slipped out of my chair and moved to her side, dropping to one knee as I did so. With my free hand, I reached into my jacket pocket and removed a small box, flicking it open as I raised it and replied, “I don’t want to just be your lover, Mom, I want to marry you.”
I kissed Mom’s hand and extended the engagement ring in the box. “Mom…Molly Cash Hamilton, will you please marry me?”
Mom was speechless, one hand clapped against her mouth, eyes wide open in stunned amazement. I let her hand slip free so that I could pluck the ring out of its container…the square cut diamond sparkling magically off the flickering light of the candle on our table. I took Mom’s left hand and placed the ring at the tip of her ring finger and looked back up at my mother. “Marry me, Mom. Be my wife and make me your husband…lovers and husband and wife forever.”
Tears were running down Mom’s face and for a moment I thought she would refuse, but then she nodded furiously and replied, “Oh yes, sugar! I love you so much, son! Yes, Tommy, I’ll marry you!”
As I slid the ring onto Mom’s finger, applause spread from throughout the room — some of the closest diners applauding with somewhat confused expressions over the mix of the words ‘Mom’ and ‘son’ amidst my proposal and Mom’s acceptance. I really didn’t care and paid little attention to the world around me as I rose back up and Mom stood up and flung herself against me, her arms flying around my neck as she almost climbed up my taller form and pressed her body against mine even as she pressed her lips against mine.
I was in heaven as for the first time in our lives, my mother kissed me as a man and not a child, her lips open as her tongue slipped into my mouth and sought out my own tongue! Mom tasted delicious, her mouth wet and electric as we kissed as only two people in love could kiss. The loving French kiss seemed to last forever and I felt dizzy and breathless when it ended and Mom whispered, “I can’t believe you proposed to me, sugar!” She giggled and added, “And on our first date!”
I hugged Mom’s body tight against my own, relishing the feel of her large breasts against my chest…even through her dress and my shirt and jacket, I could feel the aroused beating of her heart. “I want you, Mom…I want to love you and be with you forever and I don’t want to waste a moment!”
Okay, I am sure that many of you reading this are rolling your eyes and thinking that this is just another “Wham-Bam, Hey Mom wanna fuck? Sure do, Son, fuck me blind,” story and I suppose in a sense it is, but the truth is that there was always a sense of inevitability that Mom and I would become lovers. If you know the story of my Dad and his mother and my mom and the whole Hamilton clan, well…you know I can honestly make the claim that incest is in my blood and that incest was always my destiny.
Call me Tommy…it is the name I prefer…my great grandfather’s name…or my grandfather’s name depending on your point of view. I am the son of Molly, Deb and John Hamilton. Molly was my birth mother and for about eight glorious years was married to my Mom-Deb before she passed away. John was Deb’s niece and Mom’s lover going back to college. Well, Dad was Mom-Deb’s lover too and Dad is married to Carrie Hamilton, his wife and mother. Yeah, it gets complicated. To add to the confusion, Dad and Mom-Carrie also have a daughter…my half-sister, Polly.
Before we go any further, let’s just drag out the controversial word…INCEST! You could say my family are experts in incest. Mom-Carrie says it just comes naturally to us — that it’s in our blood. See, Great-grandpa Tom and his mother, Polly were lovers. Mom-Deb and Mom-Carrie were lovers with Great-grandpa Tom and with each other when they were teenagers. Dad and Mom-Carrie resumed the family tradition when Dad was in college which was how Mom-Carrie and Mom-Molly met and became lovers and then through Dad and Mom-Carrie, Mom-Molly met Mom-Deb and they fell in love and got married. Mom-Carrie married her son, John (my Dad), a few months later. Within the year, I was born — the son of Dad and Mom-Molly and Dad and his mom had a daughter, Polly, my half sister.
All my Moms and Dad set Polly and me down when we were twelve and explained our family…history and tendencies to us. It kinda amused me and I think it freaked Polly out a little until Dad and Mom-Carrie assured her that she wasn’t obligated to carry on the family tradition. As for me, I wasn’t freaked out one bit…it just sort of reaffirmed my feelings and desires. I knew even then as I dealt with the onslaught fatih escort of puberty that I didn’t just love my mother, I was in LOVE with her.
Maybe it was the fact that losing Mom-Deb when I was eight had driven us closer together…maybe it was my Hamilton blood rising to the surface, but even at twelve, I was already attracted to my mother and already wondered when I would be able to take my place alongside the adults in their lovemaking. Now, to be honest, neither Mom or Mom-Carrie or Dad ever even suggested such a thing…in fact they never brought it up. Nevertheless, I was thinking about it constantly and inadvertently or not, my parents (all three of them) helped fuel my fantasies and desires.
I do want to be clear. Mom and Dad and Mom-Carrie weren’t intentionally screwing in front of me and my sister, but they were passionate, lustful people and throughout my childhood, there were accidents of walking in on two or more of them. I think I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve strolled unexpectedly into the kitchen or pantry to find my mother going down on Mom-Carrie or vice-versa or Mom or Mom-Carrie sucking Dad’s cock.
I don’t know how many times I’ve walked into Mom’s bedroom or Dad and Mom-Carrie’s bedroom to discover two or more of them having sex. I remember once walking in and seeing Dad slipping it to Mom from behind while she licked Mom-Carrie’s pussy. Once I walked in to see Mom-Carrie riding Dad’s cock while Mom rode his face — she and Mom-Carrie kissing each other and playing with each other’s huge tits. Most nights growing up, I fell asleep to the sounds of orgasm coming from their rooms…it was a lullaby putting me to sleep. Their moans and cries were as comforting to me as the sound of rain gently falling on the roof.
It was amidst all that that I knew that I wanted to…no, that I was destined to become Mom’s lover…no, I wanted to be her husband and lover. I would defy any red-blooded male who has a mother as sexy and beautiful as mine to feel differently. Mom as she entered her forties was drop dead gorgeous. Mom stands five-foot, two inches with a voluptuous figure: 38D-27-38 and legs to die for. She has green eyes and black hair with thin streaks of grey that arrived during the time Mom-Deb was sick, but which have never increased. She radiates sexuality and I’ve seen her turn the volume up on it and rendered both men and women speechless and near befuddled. When she smiles at you…I mean really smiles at you, your knees go weak and your cock gets instantly hard.
Mom and Mom-Carrie, besides looking like daughter and mother, both share a passion for sexy…sometimes sluttish looking clothes…neither being modest or ashamed to show off their good looks and luscious bodies! Trust me, growing up in our remote home in Eastern Kentucky was better than living in a penthouse with a dozen Victoria’s Secret Angels!
Now, there is no doubt that I was sexually attracted to my mom, but it went deeper than that, even though I barely have the words to describe it. Mom and I were close emotionally…she was my best friend and closest confidant. It often seemed like I could read her moods…her mind almost and she mine, although if she noticed how much I lusted for her, she never let on until our dinner date a week after I turned eighteen. I loved Dad and Mom-Carrie, but Mom was my favorite person to spend time with and I think — outside of the carnal world, I was her favorite person as well.
Now, I would have declared my love and lust for Mom when I was fifteen…hell, I was ready to propose at fifteen, but my sister Polly counseled me to wait. She had been going through her own struggles dealing with our family nature…both fearing and curious about engaging our parents sexually, but Dad and Mom-Carrie had already informed her that that was something they would only discuss with her when she was eighteen.
“You might as well wait, Tommy,” Polly informed me late one night when we’d sneaked out onto the roof between our rooms with a couple of pilfered beers from Dad’s supply. “I guess they think they’re looking out for us…want us a little more mature before we decide.”
I pouted and replied, “I don’t see why. I know what I want and three more years won’t make a difference.”
Polly shrugged and looked down at her feet, her face in shadow beneath her long, blonde tresses. “I don’t know either, but it’s important to them.” She lifted her head, her eyes glittering in the light of the full moon. “They do love us though and want what’s best for us.”
It’s sort of funny to think about it, but even though we were two teenagers with hormones aplenty between us, we didn’t fool around with each other. Polly walked her own way and I knew that she was interested in Dad, but unsure if she could or would ever act on it. Polly was a deep thinker…that was the biggest difference between us. My sister liked to examine every possible decision from every possible angle before she committed to anything. Me…I was always the halkalı anal yapan escort plunger — jumping in without a second thought. Patience wasn’t my best virtue.
Waiting to turn eighteen was to say the least, frustrating, especially when you consider that in addition to Dad and myself, I lived with two very sexual women and a lovely teenaged girl. Mom and Mom-Carrie were as I said, like nearly identical mother and daughter — both with lovely meaty breasts, voluptuous bodies and great legs. Both exuded raw sex and I think I spent most of my pubescent years with a constant erection. When you add in the sexual nature of my parents and the little accidents and the every night sounds of orgasmic passion echoing everywhere — I was either erect, masturbating or recovering from my own climax constantly.
I would have probably gone insane if I hadn’t found a diversion in work. I was about thirteen when I discovered that I enjoyed and had a talent for yard work…something that expanded from mowing yards to actual landscaping by the time I was sixteen. I worked as much as I could — sparing time only for sleep, school, homework and baseball. I worked so much that Mom-Carrie worried that I had inherited traits from Dad’s late father who had helped push Mom-Carrie into her son’s arms with his neglect of her needs in his own single-minded pursuit of work and his hunting and fishing.
I think Dad was a bit worried too, at least until one day when we were coming back from a major league game in Cincinnati when I was sixteen and he decided we had to have a heart to heart talk. “Tommy, your Moms and I are worried that you’re working too much,” he said after our post game dissection of the Reds’ shitty performance had faded away.
“Why, Dad?” I replied. “I keep my grades up and I do my chores at home.”
“Yeah,” Dad said, nodding his head. “I…we have no complaints there, but son…we worry about you not…well, not getting out and having fun. You don’t hang out much with the guys and you hardly ever date.” He paused and added, “You don’t even spend any of the money you earn. You do know you can cut loose once in a while?”
I shrugged and said, “I’m saving my money for something special, Dad.”
My father looked at me curiously and replied, “Like what?”
I wasn’t ready to tell him and instead tried to change the subject. “Dad, do you think Mom will ever marry again?”
Dad looked pole-axed and was quiet for a few minutes before he said, “I don’t know, Tommy. Molly…your mother still feels married to your Mom-Deb.” He waited a few more minutes before he added, “I asked her to join me and uh, Mom-Carrie…to at least take a vow of marriage. In some ways, we are married already, I guess.” He actually seemed a bit embarrassed to discuss it. “But, she said no…that things are fine the way they are.”
I plunged deeper, asking questions for the first time since my parents had revealed to me and Polly the true nature of everyone’s relationship. “Did…do you ever regret marrying your mother, Dad?”
My father grunted and then laughed before his face became very serious and he replied, “Becoming Mom’s lover and marrying her and making her my wife have been the greatest things I’ve done with the exception of being yours and Polly’s father.” When I didn’t say anything, he realized that he hadn’t quite answered my question. “No, son…no regrets about marrying my mother at all…she is simply the great love of my life.”
I nodded and said, “I know how you and Mom-Carrie and Mom are, but do you think there might ever be another woman or….” My voice cracked a little as I finished, “Another man in Mom’s life?”
Dad looked at me a second and then he smiled as his eyes seemed to express a recognition of a kindred spirit before he said, “I don’t know, son…I reckon it would have to be a special woman or a very special young man.” He grinned at me and then reached out and squeezed my shoulder.
Nothing else was said for a while. We rode silently down the interstate and once past Lexington, had turned off onto the winding roads that an hour away would see us home. “Dad,” I finally said. “Do you know what kind of diamonds Mom likes? You know, like for a ring.”
Dad looked at me, surprised again by one of my questions. “Um…I believe she likes what’s called a ‘princess’ cut. Why? You planning to buy your Mom a ring?”
I smiled slyly at Dad and said, “Someday…maybe.” I suddenly realized that it was I that was blushing. “Don’t tell Mom, please? I want it to be a surprise.”
“I won’t save a word, Tommy…I promise,” replied my father. He then added, “You know, those can get quite expensive…if you need a little money….”
I shook my head and said, “No…I’m good, Dad. I’ve been saving my money for years.”
Dad looked at me with a look of pride and astonishment before he began to laugh. I laughed along with him and never felt closer to him. If ever there was moment where we knew we were so alike, it was then.
Mom couldn’t take her eyes off her ring all the long drive home, admiring the way it glittered in the greenish light of the dashboard. She was curled up beside me on the bench seat of her old station wagon, her right hand resting lightly on my upper leg, distractingly close to the bulge that seemed ever present in my pants.
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