A farmer’s wife is neglected by her husband so she turns to her son for comfort and contentment, even though they know what they are doing is wrong.
Peter Balfour tied his horse to the hitching rail outside of his family’s small farmhouse and slapped his Stetson against his thigh to remove the dust. He watered the horse, took off the tack and led the animal to the barn. He was dirty, dry and tired; it had been a long day. He stretched and then smiled as he smelt the delicious aroma of dinner wafting from the open kitchen window. A strapping lad of nineteen he could just about eat his weight in groceries his mother often said.
As he opened the back door the smell of something appetising increased and mingled with the scent of his mother’s perfume. She had her back to him fussing with something on the kitchen bench. She was wearing a red, knee-length, A-line, pleated, round-neck, dress. It had white polka dots and was sleeveless to show off her tanned arms. She wore red four-inch high heels and seamed flesh-toned stockings. Peter admired the seams running up the back of her long legs.
His mother spun around and smiled at him through red-lipsticked lips and his heart melted. She was wearing full makeup, earrings and a necklace and her black hair was worn in a bob with bangs just above her big blue eyes.
Peter’s father insisted that his wife dress to please him for dinner and greet him like a devoted, loving wife should and even now that he was gone Meg Balfour thought there was no reason for her not continue doing so. Her son deserved it after all.
“Hi Petey did you have a good day?” his mother’s smile widened.
“Yes mom, I managed to get that last acre sown. I figure we should get one hundred and twenty bushels out of it,” Peter smiled back.
He was lying, he’d done the sowing the day before and he’d had another matter to attend to today.
“Come give your mother a kiss,” she opened her arms wide.
Peter strode across the kitchen and leaned into his mother and kissed her cheek. She smelled wonderful and her full breasts pressed against his chest. She closed her arms around his neck and her lips found his, she opened her mouth so that Peter could probe her with his tongue.
“My god you’re so hard Petey,” she gasped in his ear and squeezed him through his jeans.
“Step back and show me what I want to see mom,” Peter sighed and nipped her earlobe.
She reluctantly disengaged from her son and leaned back against the kitchen bench and smiled coyly at him.
“What is it you want to see Petey?” she licked her lips and smiled seductively.
“You damn well know what I want to see mother,” Peter said gruffly.
Meg took the hem of her dress in her hands and ever so slowly lifted it up her legs. Peter gasped when the coffee-coloured bands at the top of her stockings came into view, the silver clasps of her garters pulled the welts tight against his mother’s legs. Then her creamy thighs came into view and finally the Vee of her white nylon panties. The panties were translucent and not particularly tight, he could see his mother’s trimmed bush through them. Dewy pearls of vaginal secretions glistened on her pubis.
She was aroused, as she always seemed to be in his presence.
Peter stepped forward and lightly stroked her panties.
“You’re wet,” he stated the obvious.
“For you son,” his mother whispered.
He could sense the heat from her mound and the aroma of her cunt drifted up to his nostrils.
“You know I love those stockings,” he murmured.
“For you son,” she repeated as she reached for his flies.
The sound of Meg unzipping her son’s fly was almost ominous in the quiet of the kitchen. There was no one else around for miles, the only sounds came from the farm animals and the afternoon breeze.
“Oh gee you are so big,” his mother gasped as she unleashed his manhood and took it in a firm grip.
“Bigger than dad?” Peter pushed his fingers against his mother’s pubis.
“Much bigger,” she gasped as her son’s fingers pushed her panties into her vulva, they soaked up some of her juices.
Peter extricated his fingers from her panties and stroked her labia and then inserted two fingers inside his mother, his thumb found her clitoris and pressed against it just the way she liked it. She had taught him how to do so. She pulled her son to her by his shaft. Peter liked to see her red nailpolished fingers against his taut flesh.
His mother wrapped Peter’s cock in her panties and stroked him, she knew he loved the feel of the gossamer nylon panties on his sensitive cock but she was careful not take him over the edge, he came quickly when they fucked for the first time each day. He leaned into his mother and kissed her passionately and then backed away a little.
“Let me get cleaned up mom, then we can do this in bed,” he said.
“Don’t be so obtuse Peter Balfour! You do your duty by your mother right now!” she snapped back, ripping open his shirt.
It was a little game they played, Peter had no intention of not finishing what he had started.
He lifted his mother up by her thighs and rested her buttocks on the edge of the bench and pulled the gusset of her panties out of the way and thrust himself inside her.
“Oh God!” his mother cried as she locked her legs around him.
She wrapped her arms around her son and raked his back with her fingernails then she lifted her nylon-sheathed legs and rubbed his flanks with her calves knowing it would drive him wild.
Which is exactly what it did. Peter gripped his mother by the hips and vigorously fucked her, his long thick cock coming nearly all the way out of his mother’s vagina and then slamming all the back inside her. They rubbed their pubic mounds together to stimulate Meg’s clitoris.
“Oh Jesus!” Meg bit her son’s neck and shuddered, locking him against her with her long legs.
Her orgasm washed over her as she felt her son’s huge penis throb and judder as he ejaculated inside her. Peter groaned and then his lips found hers and they kissed and lapped at each other. Meg could feel Peter’s juices running from her quivering cunt, pooling in her panties and then running run down her thighs. Peter could smell his mother’s cunt, the scent mingled with her perfume, he loved that smell.
When they were both spent, Peter eased his mother’s legs from around him and stepped back a little. He took a handful of Kleenex from the dispenser and dabbed at his mother’s sodden thatch and then at the juices running down her legs. The top of her stockings were stained with his semen and her secretions. She took a handful of tissues and wiped at her son’s slowly deflating erection. Meg pulled her panties back into place and dropped to her heels and then smoothed out her dress.
Peter put himself away and zipped up, then buttoned his shirt. They never spoke after their afternoon ritual, Peter always felt guilty and he was sure his mother did too.
Meg took out her compact and fixed her makeup and lipstick while Peter collected his things and walked over to the stairs.
“I’ll be down when I’ve had a bath,” he called to his mother.
“Don’t be long sweetie, dinner’s not far away,” she smiled at him lovingly in that sing-song voice he adored.
Peter soaked in the hot tub and improved a growing erection as he recalled how this had all come to be.
In nineteen forty seven William Balfour inherited five hundred acres of farmland in the Midwest corn-belt and at twenty nine years old he was keen to marry. His farm was located thirty miles from the nearest town and he was lonely, he was an only child and his mother had passed one year before his father.
He saw sixteen year old Margaret Ryan in the general store in Hastings and was immediately taken with her. She was wearing her ‘visiting clothes’, a tight blue dress, nylons and heels. Her long black hair was unpinned and brushed out and she was wearing makeup. Her mother was gone and her father was keen for her to marry and deliberately made her dress her in alluring apparel in order to attract a suitable beaux.
William made small talk with her in the store until her father arrived and then William took him to the saloon and made him a proposition. William was blunt. He knew that Ben Ryan was struggling to make ends meet. William offered Ben one hundred acres of prime farm land for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Ben accepted and they set a wedding date for the end of the month.
William was allowed to court Margaret before the marriage but they were chaperoned at all times. William figured he’d made a good deal, the girl had some ‘book learning’ but she also knew enough about farming to make a good farmer’s wife. Neither Ben nor William asked Margaret if she wanted to marry and in particular did she want to marry William Balfour. Margaret, or Meg as she preferred to called, never questioned William’s right to marry her. Her father told her it would be so and so it would be.
She was actually quite excited about becoming a woman and a wife and she knew that William earned a comfortable living off his land and he seemed to be a nice man from what she had gleaned on the four chaperoned dates they had before she married.
“So did you love daddy?” Peter asked his mother as she told him the story about how she had met her husband for the umpteenth time .
“I came to love your daddy Petey. Things were different back then, a girl did what her father told her to do without question and your father is a good man,” she stroked her son’s sandy hair.
“But he has his appetites,” she said wistfully.
“He does like to eat,” Peter smiled at his mother.
“Not those sort of appetites Petey, but you’re too young to know what I mean. Now let’s get back to your math,” she turned the page of text book.
William kept his wife secluded away from the outside world. The farm was a long way from the small town and he restricted her visits to once a month and he always accompanied her. He wasn’t mean and he gave her a generous allowance out of which she was expected to purchase the necessities to keep herself pretty and desirable. He showed her pictures of his favourite actresses and lingerie catalogues models had her dress just like them.
Meg was directed to keep her figure, keep her legs and her pubic hair shaved and to always dress nicely. When she fell pregnant with Peter he was disappointed that she put on weight and lost her interest in sex during the last trimester. He told her that he wanted no more children after Peter was born. Margaret agreed on condition that she be allowed to keep Peter in school until he had a decent education and William agreed so long as he was home-schooled.
William never asked his wife what she had done to prevent herself getting pregnant again and she never told him. She just told him he could now take her whenever it suited him without fear of her conceiving.
During the day when Meg was busy with housework and home schooling their son she was allowed to practical wear skirts, Capri pants, or shorts in summer, with a comfortable blouse and a little makeup. But by six o’clock when William came in from the fields she was to be dressed to please him.
Bold makeup, elegantly coiffured hair, skirts or dresses which showed her long legs to advantage were the order of the day. Nylons and high heels were mandatory.
Meg would start dinner and then go upstairs to her bedroom to get ready for her husband around five o’clock and come down just before six o’clock sprayed liberally with perfume.
When he was younger Petey would be sent out to play with orders not to come back inside the house until called in for dinner around six-thirty. When Peter was old enough to work beside his father he was given extra chores to keep him busy until the appointed time. Needless to say as Peter grew into maturity he was curious as to why his mother and father were to be left alone during that half hour between six and six-thirty and one day he decided to find out.
William had told Peter on many occasions that if he stepped foot in the house before he was called into the house for dinner he would be punished and on the few occasions that he had done so when he was a young boy he received a good spanking.
But as he got older curiosity overcame fear and one day not long after his sixteenth birthday Peter snuck up onto the porch in his stocking feet carrying his boots and crept up to the kitchen window.
He was shocked by what he witnessed.
His mother was on her knees sucking on her father’s penis. William was holding her head as he shoved his erect penis in and out of her mouth. His mother was lapping, sucking and stroking the immense organ and seemed to be enjoying it well enough.
Then his father lifted his mother to her feet and roughly spun her around and bent her over one of the kitchen chairs. She reached behind and lifted her dress up and out of the way while his father unbuckled his pants and dropped them around his ankles. His mother dutifully presented herself, her ample buttocks clad in frilly red silk panties.
His father came in behind his mother and yanked the gusset of her panties out of the way and thrust himself inside her. His mother gasped but she didn’t seem to be in pain, in fact she pushed herself back, impaling herself on her husband’s phallus. Then his father gripped his mothers hips and began to service her.
Peter couldn’t help himself, he quietly put down his boots, took out his penis and began to stroke it. He stroked it in time with his father’s thrusts and when his father pulled his mother back hard against him as came deep inside her Peter came too, ejaculating a runnel of semen that splashed against the weathered siding and pooled on the boards of the porch. He stroked himself harder as his mother’s wanton moans escaped through the glazing.
When his father had finished he pulled out of Peter’s mother and wiped his still erect penis with the cloth that he kept in the back pocket of his pants. His mother walked over to the bench with her panties around her knees and tore off some kitchen paper to pat herself dry, then she pulled up her underwear and smoothed out her skirt. She kissed her husband on the cheek and went to the stove to check on dinner.
Peter buttoned his pants and tiptoed off the porch and sat down on the old bench next his mother’s small vegetable garden and began to pull on his boots.
When dinner ready Meg powdered her nose, freshened her lipstick and straightened her seams ready for her husband to sit down for dinner. It was time for her son to join them.
“Peter! What are you doing you silly boy, come and get supper,” his mother called from the porch.
Meg was shaking her head in exasperation when she turned around to go back inside the house.
Then she saw the splatter of semen on the wall and the pool of creamy spend on the boards. At first she was alarmed, then she smiled to herself. Her son would soon be a man and he was developing a man’s appetites.
Peter was naive in many ways. Being home-schooled and between lessons he had the run of the house and outbuildings and he liked to explore. His mother and father’s bedroom was the only room off limits so of course he was curious as to what was in there. Looking out of his upstairs bedroom he could see his mother tending her garden so he snuck into his parent’s bedroom to go exploring. Rummaging around in her dresser he found a cache of corsets, bustiers, black fully-fashioned silk and nylon stockings and lacy French knickers.
He lay the garments on the bed fascinated by them. They smelled of his mother’s perfume and they felt so soft and sheer against his skin. He began to become erect and he panicked. Peter began to stuff the lingerie back into her dresser but in doing so he snagged one of her stockings, he stuffed the accusary garment into the front pocket of shorts. He took a deep breath and unpacked the lingerie and took his time folding each item carefully and tried to put them back exactly as he had found them.
“What are you doing in here Peter?” his mother was leaning against the bedroom door.
Peter thought she would be angry but she had a bemused look on her face, watching her son panic and try to put her lingerie back in the dresser.
“You’ve found mommy’s night clothes haven’t you? Like most young men you find them fascinating, yes?” she stepped into the room, closer to him.
She was wearing a denim skirt, a white cotton blouse unbuttoned down to the rise of her bosom and flat comfortable shoes. She wore sheer nylons as always and although she wore full makeup her face and decolletage were flushed by the sun. Peter could smell her perspiration though the miasma of her perfume.
“I’m sorry mom, I know I shouldn’t be in here and I won’t come in here again. But yes, those clothes are so lovely and delicate and that they did draw my attention. They look nice but I don’t think they’re particularly suitable for farm life,” Peter countered.
His mother encouraged him to ask questions, ‘that’s how you learn’ she had told him. ‘Never be afraid to ask me anything,’ she had impressed on him from a very early age.
Meg turned his question around in her head and told him a half-truth.
“They’re my bed clothes, daddy likes me to wear them to bed,” she replied.
She had noticed that her son was trying to conceal an erection and saw the toe of one of her nylons hanging from the pocket of his shorts.
Peter knew nothing about what women wore to bed and didn’t question why his mother would go to bed dressed in sexy lingerie and full makeup but he did wonder about the banging headboard, creaking bedsprings, and muffled moans coming from his parent’s bedroom at night. His bedroom had been next door to theirs but his father made him move into the smaller bedroom down the hall when Peter was in his teens.
His mother diffused the awkward situation by telling Peter to wash up and come back down for more lessons.
When he came down, having secreted the stolen stocking under his pillow, his mother had freshened up and fixed her makeup. She had put his chair beside her where she sat at the kitchen table with a large textbook open in front of her.
“Sit here Petey, I want to show you something,” his mother patted the chair.
Peter was sitting uncomfortably close to his mother. He could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her body, his bare leg brushed against her silken-sheathed calf and he started to become erect again. He was glad that his erection would be camouflaged by the tabletop.
“I thought your father would have had the birds and bees conversation with you by now Petey but obviously not,” she patted his knee and he jumped a little.
She left her hand there and he could feel her long fingernails gently scratching his skin.
“Birds and the bees?” Peter was bemused.
“Sex Peter, sex,” his mother looked at him with some concern.
“Dad just pointed out various farm animals while they were… were… were doing it,” Peter’s face was flushed.
“Copulating?” his mother was absentmindedly drawing circles on his thigh with her fingernail and it was driving him wild.
“Yes mother, copulating. Dad said that’s how they make babies,” Peter thought his voice sounded thick.
“Yes that’s right. But men and women also copulate for pleasure. Because they like the way it feels, do you understand?” she looked her son in the eyes.
Peter nodded but she could see he was confused.
“Look Peter, you’re sixteen years old so I’m sure that you get erections. You know, when your penis gets hard. And I’m sure sometimes you notice that when you rub the erection it feels very nice,” Meg’s throat was dry having this conversation.
Peter was so aware of his bare leg rubbing on his mother’s stockinged calf, her fingernails scratching his thigh, her perfume, her closeness, his erection, that his head was spinning.
“Look,” his mother pointed to the page.
It was a lithograph of a male penis in both flaccid and erect states.
“So this what you and daddy look like when you are aroused,” she tapped her finger on the erect penis.
“And this is what mommy and other ladies look like,” she turned the page.
A lithograph of vagina, showing all of its intricacies including an expanded internal diagram. Peter thought he was going to faint.
“As you can see the vagina is basically a sheath for a man to put his erect penis into. He parts these outer lips, the labia majora and these inner lips, the labia minor, and thrusts forward. His penis fills the woman’s vagina and they thrust against each other until the man ejaculates, just like you have seen horses and dogs do, although women are often on their back,” Meg explained very matter-of-factly.
To Peter the room seemed to be suffocating him, he was sweating and his cock was throbbing inside his shorts.
“Does it hurt you?” Peter whispered.
“The man does various things to the woman, he kisses and caresses her in her erogenous zones. I won’t explain those, you will have fun finding out when you get a girlfriend. This makes the woman’s vagina secrete fluids which make her receptive to the man’s penis. When they are having intercourse the man will ensure that the woman’s clitoris is stimulated so that she enjoys it too,” she pointed the clitoris on the expanded diagram in the book.
“Look Peter, I’m telling you this to improve your education but it’s really your father’s job to explain the intricacies of love making to you. I know your father is very gruff and removed from you, he’s distant to me too mostly, except to appease his appetites. I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell your father we had this conversation and stay out of our bedroom.”
“Also you should heed your father’s wishes about staying out of the house or even coming near the house between six and half-past,” she looked at him very seriously.
“But I…” Peter began, his face was flushed and there were tears forming in his eyes.
She withdrew her hand from under that table and put it over his.
“Please don’t lie to the mother that loves you. I know what young men like to do and what they like to look at while they do it but looking at your mom and dad doing that is wrong. Let’s just not speak of it any more ok?” she smiled at Peter sweetly and his heart melted.
He nodded, pleased that his mother had let him off without further embarrassment.
“It’s nearly five and I have to start dinner and get ready for daddy. You go help daddy with the chores and I’ll see you for dinner,” she leaned in and kissed his cheek.
William came through the door exactly at six o’clock and Meg was waiting for him. She wore an A-line skirt cut short above her knees, a white Angora sweater, sheer flesh-toned stockings and white high heels. William dropped his dungarees on the floor and beckoned her to do her duty. She fell to her knees before him and began to suckle his cock whilst stroking his scrotum.
William was unable to maintain a full erection. His impotence was becoming a regular occurrence, he could get semi-erect but he couldn’t get any harder no matter what tricks Meg tried. He roughly dragged her onto the couch, lifted her skirt, tore off her panties and tried to penetrate her. He could get his cock inside her but he couldn’t keep it inside her vagina, it kept falling out of her because it was so flaccid.
William was getting frustrated and the harder he tried to get his cock hard the less success he had.
“It’s your fault you fucking whore! I can’t do my duty by you or pleasure myself with you because of something you’ve done!” William pushed her away from him.
Meg was sobbing.
“William Balfour don’t you dare call your wife a whore! I’m devoted to you! I’m trapped on this farm all day cooking, cleaning and schooling your son, where do I get time to be unfaithful!” she cried.
“Well there is something wrong. I used to fuck you at least three times day, more on weekends, and now I can hardly get it up. Why do you think that is?” he growled.
Margaret knew why but would not say. William had been drinking more and more lately, even while he was at work. He never used to drink while working on the farm, it was too dangerous, but she could smell the booze on him now. Every time he had failed to gain a full erection he had been drinking.
“It’s probably just a passing phase honey, the malady will go away and you will be performing like our prize bull every time darling,” she said to appease him.
It made matters worse.
“Don’t you compare me to a stud animal you bitch!” William raised his hand and Meg cowered but he didn’t hit her.
“I’d smack you one but the boy would see the shiner,” William was panting with rage.
“And that’s another thing. You and that boy are too close. He’s nearly a man now and you’re still letting him get around the house in short pants. Well school’s over! You finish up with him ’cause from next week he’s working full-time on the farm,” William stepped into his dungarees and began to pull them up.
Dinner that night was a stoical affair. Everyone remained silent at the dinner table and Peter could sense there was something wrong between his mother and his father. He excused himself early from the table.
“Can I be excused? Tonight’s bath night and I have chores to do early tomorrow before my lessons,” he said.
His father just grunted and Peter left the table.
William was drinking at the dinner table, something he would never have done a year ago, and he took the bottle over to the couch and drank more, soon falling asleep.
Meg cleaned off the table and did the dishes. She sat next to William and tried to rouse him, to talk to him, to reason with him, but he was too far in the bag.
She made her way upstairs, intent on having an early night. She heard Peter in the bathroom, the door was ajar. She crept up to it and peeked inside.
Her son was in the bath and had an erection which he was slowly stroking, his eyes were closed and he had a blissful smile on his face.
Peter’s cock was even bigger than his father’s, who was very well hung. It was engorged, almost throbbing, the bulbous head purple and ripe. Meg remembered when William’s cock was like that all the time. She watched her son masturbate and she couldn’t help putting her hand under her skirt, she found her clitoris nestled in the folds of her labia. Meg was frustrated because William had not satisfied her, she was wet down there and when she began to circle her clitoris she became wetter.
She fantasised that her husband was deep inside her, his cock as engorged as her son’s was now. He was fucking her with long slow strokes, his pubis pressing on her clitty, he kissed her and caressed her while he fucked her. He told her she was gorgeous, beautiful and sexy and that he loved her. And when he lifted his face from hers it wasn’t William’s at all, it was Peter’s.
She gasped at the vulgarity of this obscenity but she pressed her clitoris harder and put two fingers inside herself. The image wouldn’t go away, her son was fucking her and telling her that he loved her, and she was about to orgasm.
She put her back to the doorjamb and worked her fingers inside herself and bit down on her lip to silence a scream.
She moaned as her orgasm coursed through her body, she arched her back and drove her fingers deep inside her cunt and thrummed her clitoris, waves of pleasure washed over her.
“Mom? Mom? Is that you?” Peter called out from the bath.
“Yes honey, I just wanted to say goodnight, are you decent?” she said breathlessly.
“Wait a minute. Yes you can come in now,” Peter had poured more bath soap into the water and frothed it up so that the foam covered his erection.
The sight of his mother and the scent of her perfume caused his cock to quiver when she came through the door. She closed it behind her. She seemed to be glowing, to be happy; it was good to see after the tense dinner.
“Daddy’s asleep on the couch so I’m having an early night. I just came to kiss my darling boy goodnight,” she smiled lovingly at her son.
When she spoke like that it usually made Peter feel embarrassed but tonight it excited him. He examined her. Her pretty face with those dark mascaraed eyes, blood-red lipstick and rouged cheeks, her bosom pushing out the Angora sweater, those long-long-long legs. You could see so much of them tonight, clad in shimmering nylons, and those white spiked high heels were just so sexy.
She approached the bath and knelt down to kiss her boy goodnight. His body was skinny but his muscles were developing from the farm work, his hair was a little long and needed cutting, he had his father’s eyes. She noticed all these things as she leaned in to kiss his cheek.
Peter couldn’t breathe. His mother’s dress had ridden up when she got down on her knees and he could see the tops of her stockings and her luscious thighs.
Then Margaret saw her son’s engorged manhood poking through the sea of foam. It was slowly pulsating, a bead of pre-ejaculate oozed from the eye.
Fascinated she couldn’t take her eyes off it. Then she became entranced, enchanted, she instinctively reached out for it, it was a spontaneous gesture.
Peter gasped when his mother wrapped her long fingers softly around his cock. A pearl of semen oozed from the eye of his penis. Meg was fascinated, she leaned in closer to look at it.
“Oh dear! Gracious me! Oh my goodness!” she squealed as her son’s cock spasmed and a geyser of scalding semen splattered in her face.
The next spurt sprayed into her hair, the following one doused her bosom. Impulsively and unconsciously she gripped her son’s cock tighter as an innate reaction to his ejaculation. She was inadvertently milking her son.
The remaining few spurts of Peter’s issue fell on her sweater and skirt, the last one in the bath.
Peter was breathless and joyful, he had never felt such delectation, such release.
Meg burst out laughing.
“Well that wasn’t supposed to happen,” she giggled.
She was obviously in shock. The laughing and giggling were a manifestation of her temporary delirium.
Peter was speechless, he just didn’t know what to say to his mother.
“We will definitely will not be telling daddy about this,” Margaret said as she cleaned herself as best she could with a face cloth.
She turned away and left the bathroom without saying anything further.
Peter heard the click-clack of her high heels receding down the hallway.
The next day was awkward to say the least. Peter sat opposite his mother as she explained to him that his full-time schooling was coming to an end. She would help him study in the evenings and on weekends if he wanted, but he was to work on the farm full time.
In a way Peter was glad. He was too close to his mother and what had happened in the bath last night was wrong and they both knew it.
Time passed and William still came home at six o’clock in the evening but had given up trying to perform his husbandly duties to Meg, he reached for the bottle instead of his wife. She still dressed pretty for him and showed him affection but on the rare occasions that he did reach for her he was unable to consummate their desires.
Margaret had never really realised how much she liked sex until it was denied her. She would masturbate in the house while her men were at work and increasingly it was her son who was fucking her in her fantasies. She was also behaving very eccentrically. She started to leave her discarded nylons under Peter’s pillow along with copies of her husband’s lingerie catalogues.
She knew that her son was using her lingerie to masturbate so she left him these little treasures to keep him out of her underwear drawers. Every now and then she would find one of her old nylons in the trash, crusty with her son’s dried sperm. One day she even took one out and put it to her nose while she slipped her hand inside her panties and pleasured herself.
The sexual tension between mother and son was becoming palpable. William Balfour was totally unaware, he was too busy working on the farm during the day and too drunk at night.
Three months after the incident in the bathroom Peter was lying in bed with the bedclothes pulled down. He had slipped one of his mother’s stockings over his cock and was sniffing at the crotch of a pair of her nylon panties that he had pilfered from the laundry basket. He was ever so slowly stroking himself whilst looking at pictures of the mature women dressed in lingerie in one of the catalogues that his mother had left for him.
The door opened a crack and his mother’s perfume wafted through the opening. His mother poked her head through the gap and immediately put a finger to her lips.
“Shh,” she stepped into the room on stocking feet.
She softly closed the door behind her and tiptoed over to the bed.
Peter dropped the magazine on the floor and just lay there slackjawed unable to speak or move.
Meg was wearing full makeup, a black satin and lace bustier with four garters each side attached to the welts of her black silk fully-fashioned stockings. She was sans high-heels so as not make a noise on the wooden floorboards.
She lay down beside her son and put her lips his ear.
“This is always to be our secret. We never speak of this outside this room, if your father finds out we are both dead,” she whispered.
The closeness of his mother’s body, the smell of her perfume, the feel of her lips fluttering on his ear nearly drove Peter to extremis.
Then his mother did.
She took his stocking-sheathed cock in her hand and stroked it softly and put her mouth on his, slipping her tongue inside him.
Peter moaned and ejaculated into the stocking as his mother milked him with the translucent hose, her fingers featherlight on his pulsating hard rod.
She put her lips back to his ear.
“Now you will last a little longer when I mount you,” she whispered and then started kissing him again.
She wiped up the mess with the stocking and discarded it, it fluttered to the floor.
Meg lifted her leg over Peter’s prone body and straddled him. She pressed her body against his warm muscled flesh, the feel of his mother’s soft body clad in the satin bustier against his bare skin was titillating. Her soft lips pressed on his and her tongue explored his mouth. Peter wrapped his arms around his mother and pulled her close. His hard cock pressed against her sleek black nylon panties.
He reached for her breasts but she moved his hand away. She leaned down to his face and put her lips against his ear again.
“Remember the lesson on reproduction?” she whispered and Peter nodded.
“The picture of a vagina?” she said softly and Peter nodded again.
“I’m going to teach you have to properly manipulate mommy’s vagina so we can both enjoy it. I’ll also teach you how to kiss properly and how to play with mommy’s breasts,” she went on.
“But not tonight. Tonight is just to give you a taste of things to come. Tonight is all for you son,” she bit the lobe of his ear.
Meg rose up and put her knees either side of her son’s flanks so that her panty-clad cunt was pressing on his hard cock. She put a finger to his lips again.
“Shh. Don’t make too much noise when I do this,” she whispered as she pulled the gusset of her panties aside and positioned the head of her sons cock at the entrance to her vagina.
Her panties were sodden and her vagina was dripping with juices, it had been ever since she had set her resolve to go ahead and consummate this sinful act.
Peter and Meg both bit down on their lips to silence their moans as Peter’s huge cock slid slowly inside his mother. Meg knew her son’s cock was big but she didn’t realise just how massive it was until it filled her cunt.
Peter was in heaven. The feel of his mother’s tight, warm, wet flesh clasping his manhood as he slid deep inside her was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. He wanted to fuck his mother with fast strokes but he knew he shouldn’t. If he did he would come too soon, the bedsprings would squeak and rattle, but most of all he somehow knew that he needed to make sure that his mother enjoyed it too.
He put his hands on his mother’s waist to steady her while she rode up and down on Peter’s enormous appendage. Meg wanted it all the way inside her so that the base of his cock pressed on her clitoris and the glans pressed her g-spot. She pushed down to meet his thrusts and they both had to concentrate so as not to make too much noise. They whimpered and sighed as they fucked each other.
Peter stroked his mother’s legs, he loved the feel of her slinky nylons encasing her toned flesh and then he explored her breasts through the satin bustier, he could feel her nipples were hard and he wanted to take them out but his mother shook her head. To compensate her son Meg lowered her face to his and kissed him passionately, she wormed her tongue into his mouth.
He had never been kissed like this before and it felt so erotic, he could hardly wait for when his mother would teach him how to French-kiss and to properly fondle her breasts but he was so happy to be fucking her and that was reward enough.
Despite having orgasmed so recently Peter felt his climax approaching and his mother could sense it. She ground down on his cock and twisted her torso so that his cock pressed on her clitoris and g-spot. This triggered her orgasm and she gasped into Peter’s mouth and writhed and bucked against him. Her cunt began to convulse and squeeze Peter’s cock which initiated his orgasm, he pulled his mother hard against him and emptied himself inside her.
Meg bit pressed her lips hard against his to silence the scream as she felt her son fill her with his hot seed, she writhed and bucked against him, impaling herself on his huge cock extracting every ounce of pleasure from her climax. She reared, throwing back her head in exhilaration as her orgasm roared through her every nerve and fibre.
She finally fell down and lay on top of her son, sated and exhausted. Peter wrapped his arms around her.
“I love you mom,” he whispered.
“I love you too son,” Meg smiled down at her darling boy then kissed his nose playfully.
“We still need to still keep quiet. Your dad is out dead drunk but I don’t want to take any chances,” she murmured.
Peter was disappointed when his mother disentangled herself from him and carefully dismounted. A flood of his come gushed from her vagina, Meg slipped the gusset of her panties back into place to help soak up some of her son’s issue.
She kissed Peter one last time and carefully opened the door and padded down the hall to the bathroom to clean up before going back to bed.
Peter and his mother’s illicit liaisons became a regular event. They would watch William drink himself into a stupor after dinner and, ensuring that her husband was comatose, Meg would sneak into her son’s bedroom.
Peter fitted a lock to his bedroom door and repaired and modified his old bed so that it didn’t rattle and squeak. Margaret coached her son, teaching him to kiss her, how to caress her breasts to provide maximum stimulation and how to manipulate the parts of her vagina to ensure she was fully aroused and sated during their lovemaking.
Peter requested that she continue to wear exotic lingerie, stockings and heels for their encounters. Meg would pad down the corridor carrying her high heels and slip them on when she sat on Peter’s bed.
As William’s drinking became worse, mother and son became emboldened. If William was working on the far reaches of the farm Peter would find work to do in the barn and he and his mother would roll around in the hay.
Peter eventually took over running the farm, his father was drunk just about all the time by now. William and Meg had even moved into separate bedrooms, William moved into Peter’s old room adjacent to the master bedroom. Most nights he never made it to bed anyway but it meant that Meg could now come and go as she pleased and Peter could even sneak into her room for their trysts.
Peter entered his Mother’s room for the first time to make love to her. He was immediately met by the miasma of her perfume. He locked the door behind him and stood there admiring her posed on the bed. She was wearing a see-through black negligee, red nylon panties and matching satin bra, black high heels and nude, fully-fashioned stockings held up by a black lace garter belt. She wore full makeup and her short black mane shone in the lamplight.
Meg waggled a finger at him, inviting him to join her on the bed and he shucked out of his pyjamas so that he was naked when he arrived, his huge cock hard and dripping pre-ejaculate. They had fucked already that day in the barn, she leaning over a hitching rail with her skirt rucked up and him behind her with his pants around his ankles. But Peter was insatiable and his mother’s libido matched his since they had begun their torrid, illicit affair.
Meg opened her arms and her boy mounted her. His cock pressed on her mound as his lips found hers. He kissed her, using his tongue the way his mother had taught him. Meg wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, lifting her body to meet his as he rutted at her panty-clad cunt.
His hands slid inside Meg’s negligee and unclasped her bra, he dropped it on the floor and hiked up the negligee past his mother’s breasts to that he could suckle her nipples.
Meg moaned as her son used his lips, tongue, and teeth on her sensitive teats. She had taught him well and he took his time to ensure both breasts received equal attention. She reached down and found him rigid and throbbing. Meg knew that her son was capable of fucking her at least twice tonight; she loved that he was so virile and now that she had trained him, attentive to her needs.
She stroked his phallus and he groaned, lowering his face to hers so they could kiss. Meg guided his cock to her panty-clad mound, he pressed forward so that his cock was sheathed in the gossamer fabric of her panties and rubbed against her vulva. This had become a ritual. She knew her son loved the feel of her sheer panties and stockings on his cock and she always allowed him to exercise his fetish before they fucked. Sometimes he went too far, only yesterday he was rubbing his cock on her stocking-sheathed thighs and he uncontrollably ejaculated against her leg. She didn’t mind, it didn’t take long for him to recover.
He pushed his glans inside her labia and rubbed against her clitoris, Meg began to writhe beneath him, arching her body to encourage him. Peter extracted his cock from the gusset of her panties and slid it inside his mother, she wrapped her legs around him and held him tight while he began to fuck her.
They kissed and caressed and moaned and sighed as Peter bought her to the edge and then backed off, it was trick he had learned himself and she both loved him and hated him when he did it.
She loved that his technique was so good that he could bring her to the brink of orgasm at will and hated that he often kept her there for so long that she had to beg him to finish her off.
“Fuck me Peter! Fuck me son!” she bit his earlobe quite savagely.
Peter quickened his pace and pushed himself all the way inside his mother. Meg could feel his cock expand as it was about to erupt. Then it did.
Peter and his mother clung to each other as Peter jackhammered his cock in and out of her cunt. Her silken-sheathed legs grazed his flanks, her nails raked his back and her teeth bit his lip as she savagely extracted every scintilla of pleasure from her huge-cocked son. He filled his mother with his scalding issue, semen dripped from her cunt and soaked into her panties and even the sheet. The musky smell of his spend mingled with her perfume.
The next day William Balfour went missing. He was last seen driving his old pickup down one of the dirt roads that bordered the cornfields. Peter spent two days searching the farm and surrounds and the sheriff and his deputies swept a wider area around town. People reported seeing William’s pickup here and there but there was never any confirmed sighting of William or the car and there were hundreds of old pickups in the surrounding counties. William had vanished.
By now everyone in town knew that William was a lush and prone to extreme mood swings and it didn’t surprise them that he had walked out of his marriage and the responsibilities to his family.
Peter made one last trip into town to see the sheriff who told him the sheriff’s department would be spending no further resources looking for William Balfour, they had more important things to do than look for a drunk who had deserted his family.
Margaret saw the plume of dust rising from her son’s battered old pickup as he turned into the farmhouse yard.
She powdered her nose, freshened her lipstick and straightened her seams ready for her son.
“Nothing mom. I think he’s gone for good,” Peter shook his head.
“Well that’s settled then. Now that daddy’s gone you are the man of the house. You can permanently move into my bedroom tomorrow,” she said pragmatically.
Peter nodded solemnly.
“Anyway, it’s six o’clock Petey, come over here and tend to your mother’s needs,” she smiled at him and held out her hand.
Peter left home early the next day and took a packed lunch. He rode old Blackie, a gentle gelding coming to the end of his days, for a few miles, taking it easy on the old horse. He came to a copse of unworkable land located roughly in the middle of the farm and guided the horse down a poorly marked trail until he came to his father’s pickup, now almost unrecognisable, camouflaged with branches and leaves.
He tethered the animal to the lower branches of an old oak and gave Blackie a drink.
Then he went over to the mound of dirt under which his father lay buried and said a small prayer.
Peter threw more branches over the rusty old pickup and rode his horse around the copse of trees to ensure the car was invisible, then he started the long ride home. He needed to be there by six o’clock to carry out husbandly duties to his mother now that he was the man of the house.
To be continued
Famous Author Michele Nylons
#Cheating #Incest #Teen