Description

Sleeping Son and Daughter Fucked by Mom, by Jezebel Rose

My name is Hannah, and this is a story about the weakness of will and forbidden lust. A recount of a time that I found myself in a very tempting situation with my unconscious son. How I danced on the edge of a blade instead of pushing aside spontaneous desires and walking away, and then became obsessed with the act and made a terrible habit out of it.

I will, of course, begin with a little bit of background. I was a single 38-year-old mother of two living in a comfortable suburban neighborhood. My Husband, David, was taken by cancer in late 2001, seven years before this story takes place. I had been alone since then, and my children and I had moved on from the tragedy and with our lives. I have a son, Harry, who was 18 at the time, and a daughter, Lily, who was just under a year older than Harry was.

Since David is passing, my kids and I had become very close. We leaned on each other emotionally for a long time after he lost his fight with cancer. To paint a general picture, it was not uncommon for us all to cuddle up together and watch a movie, walk around the house in next to nothing, use the restroom with the door open, or even sometimes fall asleep together when I was having a rough time coping with things.

Of course, these things happened more seldom now that they were adults, but suffice to say that some things as you read on that might seem abnormal to you were perfectly natural for us.

I was pretty fit at 38. After David passed, I started working out a lot, having been directed to do so by my therapist. I also instructed a yoga class at our local fitness center. I am 5′ 10″ tall, and I weighed 152 pounds. I have long blonde hair, gray eyes, and fair skin. I regularly wore makeup, both at home and at work, but not to the gym. I am a little bit curvy because of birthing hips, but my stomach is flat, and I have a lot of toned muscle. Being active is a funny thing. It is complicated at first, but after a while, it comes naturally, and you learn to look forward to it. I will also say that as a coping widow who is not ready to date, but still has an appetite, it is nice to be noticed when I am at the gym. Of course, it helps that I have a generous rack, and can probably credit many of those stares to my 36D cup size.

My daughter Lily was 19 at the time and was enrolled in a local community college where she was planning to study nursing. For now, she was only focusing on her general education courses, so her workload was not overwhelming, and living at home made her more fortunate financially than most students. She was a redhead like her father with dark green eyes, taller than I was by an inch, and dainty. She did not exercise a ton as I did, but she had the metabolism of a young woman. She rarely wore makeup, and I think she is enough that she does not need it. She wore a C cup that fit her body very well. Lily was not much of a party animal yet, but she was a social butterfly and had many friends. She did a lot of volunteer work when she was in high school, so I was not surprised when she told me she wanted to be a nurse. Helping people seemed to come naturally to her.

My son Harry, as I mentioned, was 18 years old. He would soon finish his senior year in high school and was taking college calculus I on the side, which I was quite proud of. At the time, he was not sure what he wanted to do, but he later settled on electrical engineering. He was thin like his sister, but more muscular. He had dirty blonde hair, just a shade darker than his mothers, and gray eyes like mine. He was a tall 6’2″ with a lean build, less muscular than some of his friends. He lifted weights with these friends at the same gym as I did, and I had seen him smack his friends upside the head for staring at me more than once, which I found flattering. He did not have much body hair yet, and to be honest, David never had a lot even before he passed. Harry was not big into sports but managed to hang out with the kids that were.

I think that David’s passing humbled my children, and aged them emotionally. I know many kids that go through this type of thing end up a lot worse than mine did, and I genuinely think that putting them into therapy with me helped. I strongly advocate it to families going through the same thing. What I do not support are the abusive things I did with them after a moment of tired, slightly intoxicated weakness.

The school year was on the downhill slope. The snow was melting into patches of bright green grass, and the smell of spring was teasing the air.

Harry was less busy as he had been in years previous and probably spent less time on all of his other classes combined as he did on calculus. Lily was taking a few general education classes and did not quite yet understand how stressful college would eventually become. I was working in the HR department of a local propane distribution company for just thirty hours a week, so we had a lot of time to spend at home together.

We were comfortable, as David had left us a small fortune, and I valued time at home more than a modest income, and mostly worked enough to keep the three of us on health insurance. It had been long enough since he’d passed that I had become incredibly lonely and, when I had time at home alone, I would lay in bed and masturbate, usually with a vibrator that I’d purchased at my friend Sharon’s ‘passion party.’ This really was a common thing in those times where girlfriends would get together and giggle over sex toys and get ‘guiled’ into purchasing things. It was a good-sized pink shaft in a rubber sheath, and I loved the way it felt against my clitoris.

It was a Friday night, which was a movie night for my kids and me. We had made it a custom to halt all homework and meet in the living room in our pajamas at 8:00 PM to have a few drinks and watch a movie. Many parents would scoff at the idea of allowing an 18 and 19-year-old to drink at home, but David was raised under the belief that it was safer to do under your roof than out where trouble could happen, and he was especially protective of our daughter, so I honored that belief by raising my kids the same way. I have to say, it does make a difference, as neither of my kids was big, troublemakers and I did not have to worry about my daughter getting date raped…

It was Harry’s turn to pick a movie, and he had selected a flick called ‘The Count of Monte Cristo,’ a 2002 remake of a famous film from 1934, which was based on a book that was published in 1844. My son always picked movies like these, and it is quite good if you are sober enough to get through the first hour or so, which I honestly was not at the time.

“I don’t know why you always have to pick snoozers like this, Harry,” Lily remarked from the sofa chair, sipping her Muscat.

“It’s better than watching Disney movies as we do on your turn, loser,” Jake responded playfully from the couch where he sat slumped beside me with a long island iced tea I’d made him.

“Push, don’t disc on my Disney pipsqueak, you like them, and you know It.” came Lily’s rebuttal, setting her wine on the lamp table beside her.

I laughed and shook my head from where I sat leaning against the opposite arm of the couch from Harry in my silk blue nightgown, my legs laying on top of each other, my feet resting a few inches from my son’s leg. “Alright that’s enough bickering kids, let’s start the movie,” I said, ending the debate.

Lily stuck her tongue out at Harry, and Harry flipped her off, but that was the end of it.

We started watching the movie finally. Lily and I drank our wine, and Harry nursed his long island. Lily fell asleep in the first thirty minutes of the video, which was not uncommon on Harry’s movie night. I had about a fifty-fifty success rate with sitting through Harry’s selections, but I always gave it my best shot. This time I fell asleep right at about the time that the main protagonist was trying to escape from prison with a spoon I think. By now, Jake and I had switched position so that we were laying down together, me in front and he behind me with his arm draped over me. It was not uncommon, uncomfortable, or unnatural for us to cuddle like this on movie night, and until this night nothing lewd had ever even entered my mind about my son and I lay like this.

Sometime in the night I tiredly opened my eyes after what ended up to be an incredibly erotic dream wherein my son’s best friend Tommy, a muscular young man who I saw with my son at the gym, was ravaging from behind me. My thighs were soaked in my juices, and the greedy hotness between my legs was overwhelming.

My head was still spinning from a few too many glasses of wine, but I was suddenly aware of something significant and substantial nestled between my ass cheeks and a large hand cupped over my left breast outside of my nightgown, under which I wore no bra.

My tired eyes flashed wide suddenly as I realized that my son was sleeping behind me with a giant erection pressed against my ass and his hand gripping one of my tits. I was not sure just then how big it was, but the hard shaft lay all the way along the length of my ass crack… ‘He must have the biggest cock…’ I thought, and then scolded myself mentally. This was quite the situation I was in…

I assumed he must be sleeping by the deep breathing through his nose hot against my neck where his head lay nestled in my hair, which wasn’t surprising because he’d had three long island iced teas, which if you don’t know is quite a lot of liquor. I gulped, not sure of the best way to proceed with this situation…

Slowly I looked up to the sofa chair where Lily had been, and the digital clock was glowing above it. It was 2:28 AM and Lily had already gone to bed. Likely, she saw us sleeping here and had draped the blanket she had been using over top of Harry and I. Thank God for that because if she had walked in now, I would undoubtedly be very embarrassed.

“Mmmmm…” Harry moaned softly in his sleep, giving my breast a gentle squeeze and pressing his length against me, which caused me to shudder and the fire between my legs to burn wetly.

God! I was SO horny! This was so wrong, but I did not have the willpower to remove myself from the situation… I wanted more… So much more! I closed my eyes and imagined what it would feel like to have that enormous thing buried inside of me so very much more profound than any of my toys… Maybe I could play around a little bit. If I took it slow enough not to wake him, I might be able to make the most of this stimulating situation without my son knowing any better.

Butterflies fluttered relentlessly in my belly as I slowly reached up to his hand where it cupped my breast, resting my slender hand on top of his and very gently encouraging another squeeze, which he readily obliged in his sleep. With my other hand I was slowly working my already short nightgown up past my navel, planning to work my soaking pussy with my fingers while this transpired… but then I thought ‘How much better would it be if it were him… I wonder…’

I had read somewhere that people deep in sleep could act their dreams out to some extent, and those things they felt and heard could inspire ideas. If I could get his hand in my panties without waking him… maybe, I could get these two phenomena to feed each other and be fingered by my son… This was so wrong, but my head was spinning with lust, and I did not care. I was also really turned on by how forbidden this was. If he woke up while doing it, I would not be responsible for the act at all… Therefore, I was maybe a little too confident that I could get away with it.

By now, my flowing juices ruined my panties. I would always had a problem with being a little bit too wet when things heated up like this and making a big mess.

Harry’s breathing remained slow and steady against my neck, and his cock stayed rock hard in the crack of my curvy ass. Gently I pressed down on his hand with mine, and slowly, carefully started to guide it downward. It effortlessly cascaded over the breast it had gripped and eventually rested on my sternum just below them. His muscles were limp with relaxation, and it was straightforward to move his hand over my skin, but I kept the descent painfully slow out of fear for waking him.

I took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly as I started guiding his hand down along my stomach. I held the hem of my nightgown with my free hand to prevent him from pushing it back down when I moved his hand over it. I then curled the fingertips of my guiding hand under his just enough to gently lift them onto the bunched fabric right above the bare skin below. After this, continuing to breathe slowly and listening for any change in his breathing, I moved my hand back to rest on his, gently pressing down and guiding it further south.

I shuddered with excitement as his fingertips first made contact with the bare skin above my navel, stopping there for a moment to take in what I was doing, well beyond the point of return already. My son’s breathing continued it is relaxed, keep pace. I dared not give in to my almost unbearable temptation to press my ass back against his raging erection.

Gathering my bearings, I began moving his hand again toward my soaked panties. My skin tingled as I guided his warm hand slowly across the soft skin above my navel. I exerted only enough pressure on his side to move it, and not enough that his middle finger would get caught in my belly button that it slowly drifted over. My pussy was gushing by the time his fingertips reached the waistband of my panties.

I knew I would need to give him a room down there, so I slowly extended my right, top leg straight, keeping my toes pointing out from the couch as not to need to reposition my ass, which comfortably cradled my son’s monster erection. I shifted my bottom leg out from the sofa and bent at the knee slowly so that the knee pointed out perpendicular from the couch, lowering my foot quietly to rest on the floor on its side, toes of my left foot pointing in the same direction as the other.

Now, taking another deep breath, I pushed down a bit more firmly on his fingertips with mine, feeling the soft flesh of my belly above my panties sink in, then began guiding him southward again, both sets of fingers slipping under the waistband of my panties. Trembling, I continued guiding downward, listening to his breathing intently as I felt his middle finger reach the top of the valley that split my pussy. I kept my trembling breath quiet as I moved my hand up to his wrist, wrapping slender fingers around it gently and, painfully slow, pushing his hand down a bit further into a wetter territory.

As the backs of my son’s limp fingers moved along the inner crotch of my soaking panties, they began to curl in against the resistance of the elastic fabric, fingers facing my wet entrance. I was exerting enough force downward on his wrist for the time being that his hand had not yet touched my vagina, but hovered just above it, pushing the panties away from it. I shivered at the feeling of free air between my tight, soaked hole and his hand.

Finally, and gradually, I let go of his wrist, stifling a gasp as his limp hand gave way to the elastic pull of my panties toward my pussy and his fingers easily sunk in between the soft folds of my wet labia.

For a few minutes, I just lay there taking slow, shaking breaths, my juices coating my son’s fingers and running down along the backs of them. I hoped lustfully that he would do something, that he would sink a finger into me and begin playing, anything… but nothing happened, and were I not delusional with lust I would have known that he wouldn’t it have done anything unconsciously.

Finally, I reached down, resting my hand on his from outside of my panties and gently pushing against it to retake control, sighing softly at the pressure of a man’s hand against my sex. Sure that his breathing was still thick and slow, I started to move his hand in very slow, small circles.

“Hmmm…” I sighed quietly, relishing the feeling of my son’s hand between my legs.

I did this for a couple of minutes but needed more. I shimmied his hand back and forth a little bit with just a bit of extra pressure on his middle finger so that it sank between my soft, slippery cunt lips, his fingertip just barely penetrating the thick, hungry hole beyond. The wet folds of my labia enveloped his middle finger entirely as I released pressure from it. It felt like my whole body would explode any moment, but I had to stay composed and focused on my son’s breathing.

Now I rested my hand on his again just a little higher than before, the tips of my fingers on his middle knuckles, pushing down on his and working it down a bit further. His middle finger started to curl inward as I pushed his hand, easily penetrating my tight, slippery hole further. The others simply wrapped around and cupped my cunt. I did this until his middle finger was entirely inside of me, sighing quiet moans once and awhile.

Now that I had guided one of his fingers into me, I needed to try to incite a dream so that he might finger his mother in his sleep.

Slowly I pushed my hips outward slightly, which made his finger push into me a little deeper. With this motion, my ass glided over the considerable erection nestled between its cheeks. After this, I moved my ass back to the original position, gripping the side of the couch with my right hand to assist my motions. I repeated the movement, slowly and slightly making my sons finger slide in and out of me while my ass moved up and down the long shaft of his boxer-clad cock.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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