Fireflies, Part Three

  • Posted on May 23, 2015 at 11:42 am

By JetBoy

When I awakened, the sunlight that filled the room puzzled me for a few seconds — I normally slept on the other side of the house, where the sun only put in an appearance in the afternoon.

Then it all came back to me in a dizzying rush. My mother and I had made love yesterday; had shared our bodies, our souls. More than that, we’d fucked.

I was alone in bed, but Mom had left a fresh-cut pink camellia on the pillow for me. Sitting up, I breathed deeply of its fragrance, then caressed my breasts with the soft petals.

Rising, I stretched luxuriously, then padded into the bathroom to shower.

Minutes later, I descended the stairs, letting the wonderful aroma of breakfast lure me to Mom. I’d been tempted to surprise her by coming down completely naked, but settled on my sexiest dressing gown, the one that barely concealed my panties — at least it would have, if I’d been wearing any.

Mom was standing over the stove, as I made my entrance, turning pieces of bacon in a sizzling iron skillet. She wore her ivory-hued kimono — a gift from a Japanese student — that showed off her womanly figure to stunning effect.

Glancing over her shoulder, she paused to look me up and down appreciatively. “Hey, hon,” she said, the warmth of her voice stirring some very un-daughterly feelings of mine. “How many eggs do you want?”

Moving close, I embraced Mom from behind, grinding my mound into her generous ass. “Hmmm,” I mused, my hands opening the kimono, then slipping inside to cup her bare breasts. “Think I’d rather have these, actually.” I teased Mom’s nipples, feeling them stiffen to my touch.

Shaking her head, she moved away. “Really, Marcie,” she chided, opening the oven door to check on a pan of biscuits, which were just beginning to turn a golden brown. “You’ve got a one-track mind.” There was an amused light in her eyes when she said it, though. “Now you cut out this foolishness and sit down. Breakfast is almost ready.” Taking up a pair of tongs, she deftly plucked bacon strips from the skillet, laying each one out on a folded paper towel.

“Okay, okay,” I laughed, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender. Taking my seat at the kitchen table, I arranged myself in a very provocative pose, legs parted just enough to expose my pussy. “Oh, Mom-ma…” I sang.

“What, honey?” she replied, looking over her shoulder — then her eyes widened as she drank in the sight of me. “Oh, my.”

“Two eggs. Scrambled,” I purred, letting both hands trail slowly down my thighs.

Mom licked her lips as she stared at my cunt, which I was certain had to be glistening with wetness. Her gaze shifted up to my face, eyes narrowing into a mock-glare. “It pains me to say this, honestly it does… but my daughter has become a tease. And something of a slut, I suspect.”

I purred, “Oh, I’m your slut, Mom,” hugging myself. It was weird but exhilarating, playing the Bad Girl for my mother.

She folded her arms, giving me that are-we-finished? look that I suspected a few of her students knew all too well. “Honey. Behave.”

“Sorry, Mom,” I grinned sheepishly, straightening in my chair.

Satisfied, she turned back to the stove, taking two eggs and cracking them in a glass bowl.

Moments later, we were eating breakfast and deep in a discussion of W.S. Merwin’s poetry. I’d buried myself in his work for weeks while composing my final paper for American Lit class. Just another meal in our happy home, filled with Mom’s great cooking and good conversation.

Only as we ate, I couldn’t stop thinking of Mom’s nearly naked body beneath that silken gown. The front was open enough to give me tantalizing glimpses of her breasts, and I longed to bury my face in them, breathing deeply of her skin. As for Mom, she did her share of looking, too, glancing again and again at the outline of my nipples, which were all too apparent through the skimpy nightie I wore.

Finally we yielded up our knives and forks, took that last sip of coffee, wiped our mouths with the linen napkins that Mom had always used instead of paper ones. Without a word, we rose to tidy up, clearing away the remains of our breakfast.

Mom gently placed the last plate in the sink, then turned to me. I could read the desire she felt, written in her warm brown eyes.

Without breaking her gaze, I reached out to grasp the tasseled cord that wound about my mother’s kimono, tugging it gently to undo the careless knot that held the gown shut. It slowly parted, revealing Mom’s body. Underneath, she wore sexy red panties — nothing else.

“Oh, Marcie,” she breathed, her cheeks flushed with an excitement that mirrored my own.

Moving closer, I slid both hands beneath the silken material and around Mom’s bare waist, crushing my body against hers. She had just enough time to gasp before I kissed her.

My head swam with lust as I felt her open to me, replying to my hunger with her probing tongue. We kissed for a long while, reluctant to part even for the length of time it would take to climb the stairs to my bedroom — the closest one.

No matter — I had other, more daring plans for my mother. We had shared sweet lovemaking; now I was in the mood to be downright lewd. Let’s see just how wild we can get, Momma…

Abruptly breaking away, I hooked my thumbs beneath her kimono and pushed it from her shoulders. The smooth silk cascaded to the floor, and my nearly nude mother gasped again, making a half-movement to cover her breasts.

“Honey!” she exclaimed. “What — what if someone d-drops by?” She glanced nervously at the large kitchen window, which looked out onto our back yard.

“We won’t answer,” I replied, reaching for the hem of my nightie and yanking it up and off with a single gesture, leaving me completely naked.

I reached out to seize Mom’s hand and led her over to the kitchen table, now emptied. Firmly placing her hand upon its gleaming surface, my lips graze her ear as I whisper, “Bend over, Mom.”

She was trembling — partly from arousal, partly from nerves — but she meekly obeyed, lowering her upper half until her breasts were touching the table top.

I moved back, studying my mother’s backside with a fierce hunger that simmered beneath my belly. She was magnificent; soft and shapely, built for a lover’s comfort. Licking my lips, I gazed at the pouting cleft of Mom’s cunt, outlined beneath gauzy panties, remembering the adoration I’d showered last night on that wonderful part of her body.

Yeah, I’d had her pussy — now, I wanted her ass.

Drawing closer, I grabbed a chair with one hand, slid it beneath me and sat; my face mere inches from Mom’s buttocks. I grasped the waistband of her panties and drew them down slowly enough to make a show of it, licking my lips as her nudity was revealed to me one luscious inch at a time. Finally, my mother’s knickers ringed her ankles, and she stepped from them without a murmur.

I took a long, deep breath, then rested my hands on the soft globes, cupping them for a moment before I spread them apart, exposing the cleft of my mother’s anus. It was lovely — a sweet pink pucker that cried out to be kissed, like a little mouth. So that’s just what I did, burrowing between those soft cheeks to place an open-mouthed kiss upon Mom’s rosebud.

She gasped, a thrilled shudder rippling through her frame. “Oh, baby — oh God!”

I was licking my mother’s asshole, bathing her crack with long, luscious strokes. She was writhing atop the table, panting, “Marcie, th-that feels so — oh so good! I’ve n-never… never… ohhhhhh!”

It felt more wonderful than I can say, making love to Mom like this. To me, analingus is the most intimate of sexual acts — and it was a pleasure I only shared with special lovers. Who better to receive this precious gift than the woman who had given birth to me, fed me from her breasts, soothed my tears, taught me to read, raised me to adulthood?

As I rimmed her, my right hand slid up the inside of Mom’s legs and between them, cupping her warm, wet vulva for a few heartbeats before I brought my fingers into play. There was rich nectar dripping from her flower, and I felt it slowly coating my digits while I deftly masturbated her. My lips were wedged deeply into the crease of Mom’s buttocks, the tip of the tongue pressing insistently at the anal pucker.

“Marcie,” she moaned, quivering to my touch. “Marcie, I love you…”

Sensing my mother’s need for release, I allowed my fingers to seek out the fleshy button of her clit. She inhaled sharply as I lightly brushed her there one, two, three times; then took the inflamed nubbin between my thumb and index finger, gently pinching it.

A strangled cry exploded from Mom’s throat as a climax kicked in hard and fast, near-violent jolts of ecstasy coursing through her frame.

“Mmmmmohhhnnyeah… oh — oh JESUS!” she screamed, raising herself from the table with both hands, head thrown back.

Unwilling to stop, I continued to masturbate my mother while French kissing her asshole, carrying her through at least two more orgasms. Finally she blurted “Marcie, oh God — n-n-no more, please!”

I withdrew my fingers, now bathed in Mom’s essence, saying goodbye to her anus with a flick of the tongue before rising to my feet. My mother lay on the table, knees bent, her toes resting on the floor. Her elegant back heaved with each deep breath.

Helping a dazed Mom to her feet, I led her over to the couch, where she collapsed into its welcoming embrace. Her hair was awry, face flushed, body glistening with sweat — yet her well-fucked appearance made me want my mother all the more, as if the tongue action I’d just given her had been no more than an appetizer.

Pausing to lick at my sticky fingertips, I studied the thick bush between Mom’s legs, now somewhat matted from her vaginal fluids. All my other female lovers kept their pubes shaved or trimmed, but there was something beautiful about my mother’s auburn thatch that made me wonder if I’d been missing out. Maybe I’ll let mine grow in, I mused, casually teasing my slit with a fingertip.

My eyes shifted to Mom’s face, and a surge of raw lust raced through me when I saw the animal hunger in her eyes. I’d yet to come that morning, and there was a fire deep in my womanly center that needed to be quenched.

She sat up straight, reaching out to grasp my hand. “Now it’s your turn, baby,” she announced, a rough edge to her voice, “and I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never had it before.”

I was speechless with excitement. I’d never heard Mom swear, not even when she lost her temper, and her deliberate use of the word fuck only tossed fuel on the inferno inside me. My shy, gentle, sonnet-quoting mother had been displaced for the moment, overtaken by this sexy, confident lesbian who meant to have her way with me — and I planned to let her.

So once again my mother and I mounted the stairs, hand in hand, hungry to experience more incestuous delights.

Leading me into her bedroom, Mom enveloped me in her soft arms, claiming my mouth in a soul kiss, humming with pleasure as she tasted her own cunt and asshole on my lips. Then, drawing away, she placed the flat of her hand upon my chest, giving me a shove. Startled, I lost my balance, falling back onto the bed. Propping myself up on both elbows, I gaped at her.

“Stay right there, girl,” Mom purred, her eyes burning into mine like lasers. “Mommy’s got a little surprise for you.”

Turning away, she opened the twinned doors of her handmade armoire, rummaged around inside, only to emerge with —

Oh. My. God.

My mother was holding this big, beautiful latex cock with a leather harness attached, a feral smile adorning her lips as she caressed its length — eight inches, at least. All I could do was stare, my body pulsing with excitement.

“Now, sweetheart,” Mom murmured, “it’s my turn to play.” She proffered the rubbery dick, which wobbled gently in her grasp. “Ever use one of these on a girl — or had one used on you?”

I slowly shook my head. “No, never — and that’s bigger than any real cock I’ve ever had.”

A flicker of concern appeared in her eyes — but before she could have any second thoughts, I beckoned her to me with a finger as I lay back, spreading my legs. “Let’s do this, Mom. C’mon — fuck me, right now!”

I was quaking inside with feverish desire, watching impatiently and fighting off an urge to caress my vulva as Mom carefully fastened the device about her hips, then anointed it with lubricant squeezed from a crumpled tube she took from the drawer of her nightstand. Then her eyes met mine, and my mother gave me a lustful look that had me feeling hot and cold all at once.

Her gaze remained unbroken as she knelt on the bed and crawled toward me — a wild beast, stalking game. I could only part my thighs further, offering myself to her. Soon, she towered over where I lay. Reaching down, Mom placed the tips of her fingers between my breasts, her smile deepening when she sensed the frantic poundpoundpound of my heart. She drew those fingers down my body in a slow, unbroken line; one that ended between my legs. A whimper escaped my lips as she fondled my cunt in the gentlest of caresses.

It was lovely, no denying that — but I was desperate to be taken by Mom, eager to get acquainted with the glistening prick that jutted arrogantly from her pelvis; to feel it slide deep inside me. I closed my eyes, willing it to happen.

Then her soft, yearning mouth covered mine, and somehow that eased my tension as I parted my lips, inviting her tongue to play. It was a relaxed but ardent kiss, Mom’s way of telling me Take it easy, honey — we’ve got all day to make love.

As I sucked on my mother’s tongue, she slowly lowered herself onto me… and that was when I felt the tip of her sex toy pressing against the entrance to my cunt. Opening my legs even further, I stared at my mother, aching with adoration for her. “Do it, Mom… oh, God, I n-need you inside me…”

I gasped in delight as the bulbous head slipped through the vaginal ring — then it felt as if the very breath was driven from my chest as Mom pushed the length of her cock into me, inch by incredible inch, until I could feel her pubes grazing my trimmed mound.

Pinned beneath the magnificent weight of my mother’s body, I clutched her to me, trembling. I’d never been filled so completely. That beautiful cock was touching places inside that no lover had ever reached. Every movement she or I made, however tiny, reverberated through me as if the earth’s crust was buckling beneath the bed.

“Ready?” Mom breathed, her nose millimeters from mine.

Words were beyond me at that instant, so I simply nodded, as emphatically as I could. She tensed slightly, then a choked cry broke from my lips when Mom drew back, and her slippery prick began its reverse journey from my cunt.

Mom withdrew until only the tip remained inside, then reversed herself, slowly entering me once more. This time, she somehow managed to penetrate even deeper.

“Yesssss, Mommy,” I whimpered, clutching at her ass with both hands. “F-fuck me…!”

I’ve noticed that whenever two women enjoy strap-on sex in an erotic story, they always seem to go at it fast and furiously; one lover taking the other in a crazed frenzy, bellies slapping together with every brutal thrust.

My first time was different. Mom’s fucking was smooth and steady, even affectionate. She kissed me again and again, sometimes working her tongue in and out of my mouth in time with her slowly churning hips. I pictured myself as a flattened beach ball, being filled by my loving mother — only she was pumping me full of pleasure, not air. The image was so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but giggle.

Mom gazed warmly into my eyes and whispered, “Silly girl.” Then her soft mouth claimed mine again, and I sighed, surrendering myself to her as I never had with a lover.

Each sweet stroke from my mother’s cock seemed to lift me ever higher, until I was panting furiously, dizzy with sexual rapture. I felt the approach of orgasm, welcomed it, aching for release.

Then her hand slipped between our moving bodies, snaking between my legs. Startled, I gaped up at my mother as her fingers found and lightly tweaked my throbbing clit.

“Ohhh! OHHH!” I wailed as a thunderclap smashed heedlessly through me, roaring and sizzling in my ears. Through it all, Mom continued to plow me, each new thrust a shower of bright orange sparks that seemed to cascade over our pumping bodies.

I was panting for breath, utterly spent. Mom continued to masturbate me, though, and before my heart could lapse into a steady beat I was coming again, my hands balled into white-knuckled fists, screaming hoarsely to the ceiling.

Finally I felt her fingers withdraw, the cock slipping from my vagina with a slurping sound. I emitted a gasp of relief before sinking into the sodden sheets.

Half conscious, head spinning crazily, I drank in huge gulps of air, my heartbeat gradually slackening into a steady rhythm. I heard Mom’s strap-on hit the floor with a light thud, then felt her body press into mine from behind. Warm, soft lips brushed my neck.

Spent as I was, I still managed to twist myself around to face my mother, giving her a sleepy smile. “That was awesome… love you, Mom.”

She drew me into her comforting arms, where I nestled contentedly; a little girl once more, calmed by Mommy’s nearness. “I love you too, sweetheart,” I heard her murmur as I drifted into slumber.

*****

Nearly two years have passed since that incredible weekend when Mom and I became sexually intimate.

Tennessee Williams once said — or had one of his characters say, anyhow — that time was the longest distance between two places. The last couple of years have proven the simple truth of Mr. Williams’ words, for me at least.

I’m currently working on a Masters degree, and plan to go into teaching. In my teen years, I resisted any idea of following in my mother’s footsteps; now here I am, doing exactly that. Go figure.

Mom is now openly gay, and blissfully happy with her life. Last year she took up with a woman who does house repair and carpentry for a living. Amy is in her mid-thirties, butch but beautiful, and almost never cracks a book. I like to tease Mom by calling her and Amy “The Odd Couple,” but they really do have something special.

As for me, I surprised myself by getting seriously involved with a man — something I never anticipated doing again. But Nicky is a truly special guy; smart, charming and incredibly sweet. Mom thinks the world of him, and so do I.

Nicky and I spend just about every spare minute of our time together… but he knows that Thursday night, with very few exceptions, is for me and my mother. He refers to those nights as “hen parties,” with that little smile of his that leaves me tingling all over. If only he knew!

When I arrive at the homestead, Mom is waiting for me with a smile and a warm hug. She mixes a couple of drinks, and if the weather permits, we sit together on the back porch, taking in the beauty of an Alabama night. Early summer evenings are the best — the air is cool and refreshing after the day’s heat and fragrant with honeysuckle, our yard alive with tiny glowing fireflies, flickering on and off, on and off — a sight I’ll always cherish.

My mother and I sit side by side on the darkened veranda, a citronella candle nearby to ward off mosquitoes. We talk of this and that, share the million and one details of our lives. After awhile, we fall silent, content to relax in each other’s presence.

Then I reach over to place a hand on Mom’s bare leg, stroking the warm skin, gliding beneath the hem of her dress. I don’t know why, but it always falls to me to make the first move. My hand slips between those soft thighs, finally cupping my mother’s mound through her panties.

Mom turns to me, her face radiant with desire –and our mouths meet in a kiss that quickly grows passionate.

Somehow, we find our way upstairs to her room. We undress one another, slip naked beneath the silken sheets. And then Mom and I make love, joining our bodies and souls in the warmth of her bed as we have so many times before… as we always will.

No one else knows of the forbidden pleasures we enjoy, not even our lovers. Yet this sweet secret that we nurture between us burns with a heat intense enough to occasionally make me ache to declare our love to one and all, to defiantly say that Yes, I fuck my own mother.

Obviously, I can’t do any such thing. The world isn’t ready to understand a relationship like ours, and probably never will be.

So instead, I’m setting our story down in print, sharing it with everyone who wants to know. I like to think that other women will be inspired by our love, that these humble words might give some longing teenager the courage to do something about the desire she feels for her mom, or convince a lonely housewife that lusting after her daughter isn’t wrong just because society says so.

For Mom and I, incest has only made our bond stronger — and the lovemaking we enjoy is as natural as breathing.

 

7 Comments on Fireflies, Part Three

  1. Aliciamom says:

    God what a beautiful story!!!!

  2. JetBoy says:

    Bless you, Aliciamom… your words are welcome as a cool drink on a hot day.

  3. jesse burnett says:

    Man, the love between those two was so extraordinary i really figured it would be one of your stories where they formed a relationship at the end. Anyways, that was amazing as usual, I should sooo be asleep right now lol, BUT I CAN’T STOP READING YOUR STORIES!! XP

  4. Nathan Riches says:

    Soooo, once a week you both cheat on your partners. :S

  5. sue says:

    Very nice story of our favorite subject matter, mother and daughter incest. Well written as always, JetBoy.

    Great picture with chapter one also.

  6. Bruce says:

    a beautiful and sexy love story!
    Thank you

Leave a Reply

Please review the terms of use and comment etiquette before commenting. Messages that break our rules will be removed.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.