I'm a guy.
I wasn't sure whether to post this in Male Solo for Female/Female. It's been a guilty fantasy of mine for over ten years. But I think it belongs in Female/Female, because that's the real story here. And it's her story, not mine.
When I first wrote this, I thought I'd just keep it in the first person, and try to pass it off as another story which was supposed to be written by a woman. But everyone would know it was written by a guy.
But then I thought that in this case, it might be just as well to tell the truth about it, and then the reader can enjoy the story for what it's worth.
The woman, Becky, is my wife. Her late mother Stephanie, was picking her up from college for the Christmas break when this happened. Before we got married, Becky and I had divulged those few sexual experienes that we were really embarrassed or upset or even disturbed that we had enjoyed, and had trouble admitting to. This one is the most disturbing to her.
She was 19 and her mother was 42. They were attractive; she was a petite blonde and her mom a bit taller but also of slight build. This happened over 20 years ago, and I'm writing it as I heard it from her, more than 10 years ago, so I've just tried to retell her story as I remember it, as if she were willing to tell it, put it in writing and share it.
'I was having this really nice dream about this guy I liked, Dan, the two of us just sitting in the field somewhere, on a warm sunny day, making-out, fully clothed, really just kissing. It wasn't so much sexually as emotionally exciting. I'd never made-out with Dan, he was still just a fantasy-man, so I was really enjoying it.
Then I'm suddenly at home, in my bed, in the dark, on top of Mr. Bear, my old white giant Gund bear, taking a ride in the nude. What happened to Dan? Oh, well Mr. B. was always good, and now it was just a sexual dream, and I got back into the old, familiar rhythm of fucking him. It was very vivid; I was going back and forth, clutching that poor bear, getting into it, then getting close, but something wasn't quite right...
The next thing I know I'm in my room at school, in my bed, in the dark. And I'm looking down at my Mother's hair spread out on my pillow. Her face is just inches from mine because I'm on top of her and I'm rubbing myself back and forth on her hip. My T-shirt is up on my hips and her nightgown is pushed up to her chest and we are naked from the waist down. I could feel my lips splayed open on her skin and her hip bone was grinding against me, and that both of us were wet where I'd been pressing against her.
So, I was half asleep, about to cum, and masturbating on my Mom.
I remember she didn't seem mad or anything, we both sort of jumped as though we were startled and went 'Oh!' as we each realized I was awake, and I froze. I didn't know whether she was awake or not before I woke up.
'It's OK Becks, you were just having a dream,' she said.
I nodded, trying not to think about wanting to cum, and trying not to think about being on my Mom. She looked at me and maybe saw my distress. I don't think she was trying to take advantage of me. I do honestly think she was just trying to let me do what she thought I needed, or wanted, to do.
'You can go ahead and finish,' she said it in almost a whisper.
I was almost sick about it afterwards, but at that moment, I was so far gone already, I did. I mean, I did it. I told myself I was still just masturbating, but knew I wasn't doing it in my sleep anymore. I didn't think about what that meant until after.
I did with her just what I'd done so many times with Mr. B. and what I'd just been doing in my dream. So, yes, I basically fucked her. I didn't think about her being my Mother, I didn't think that I shouldn't do it because she was my Mother, and I'm still sickened by this if I think about it.
I pushed myself up on my hands and got off of her so that I was only touching her below the waist where I needed to touch to get it done and I remember staring down into her face. She stared back at me. I adjusted myself on her to the way I wanted to be, and started to move again, as fast as I could. Maybe part of me wanted get it over with.
It was just mechanical, really, and it didn't take long. As soon as I started doing it, I closed my eyes. I thought of being on Mr. B. My hands were on the bed on either side of her shoulders. Her hip bone was pressing against my clit. My Mom put her hands on the back of my thighs, pulled me against her, and pushed her hip up against me. And started fucking me back.
And that was it, I squeezed my legs around her leg. I grunted and my body went stiff and I came.
I'm sure she heard me; I'm sure she could tell I'd cum. It's not like you can't tell. She pulled me down on top of her again and hugged me, but I just held onto her shoulders, not really thinking of what I was doing, just cumming and holding on. My chin was over her shoulder, my head next to hers again, and I just stared at the headboard. She kept mashing her hip up into me and got her other leg up around my butt and pulled me down onto her. She was squeezing my left thigh between hers. I don't know how long she kept fucking me after I'd stopped moving; I was still cumming and just kept clinging to her.
I was still holding her in a sort of crouch and had my legs clamped around her hip and thigh after it was over. Not because I was in some post-sex cuddle mode, but only because I was so weak after my orgasm and so scared I actually couldn't move. I couldn't believe I'd just masturbated on my Mother. I started to freak-out in my head.
I pushed myself back up on my hands and looked down at my Mom. I hadn't even realized until then that she'd let go of me with her arms and legs and was just laying there breathing hard, limp, and looking right back up at me with a blank expression.
She'd cum, too. Oddly, this didn't bother me.
She took a couple of deep breaths, 'Are you all done?,' she asked.
I quickly rolled off her onto my back and pulled my nightshirt down, and just stared at the ceiling.
My Mom sat up and took some of the sheets and wiped up the wet spot I'd left on her hip, and then between her own legs. and pulled her nightgown down from where it had bunched up under her breasts. I realized there was a small sticky spot on my thigh where I'd pressed against her. I think that snapped me back into reality.
I didn't know what to say, suddenly felt completely disgusted about what I'd just done, and rolled over to face the wall, and started to cry.
My Mom lay back down and didn't say anything for awhile.
'So, was this the first time for you, too?'
'First for what? Sex with a woman, mindless, lust-crazed sex, or incest.'
'All of the above?'
I thought for a moment. 'No, yes, and yes.' I tried to get myself under control and figure out what had just happened.
'Two out of three ain't bad, Becks.'
'Yeah, what about you?'
'No, no, and yes.'
I remember I was so relieved that she hadn't said 'no' to the incest part.
'So, what do we do now?'
'I don't know what there is to do about it, honey, it's happened. We can talk about it, but we can't undo it.'
So we talked about it. I cried a lot. Most of the rest of the night. From the beginning, to the point when all was said, she wasn't really upset about it at all. She'd enjoyed it, as had I, and for her, that was the end of it. But while she wasn't upset, she was concerned how I felt, and she never told me not to be upset or not to worry about it. Nor did she try to get me to believe that it was a good thing that it happened and that we'd be closer because of it of some bullshit like that. I think she just felt like she'd caught me masturbating and let me finish. That she was there and participated didn't make it incest, or even sex, to her, if I understood her. I don't understand a lot of my Mom' views on sex, but sometimes I wish I felt the same way about this as she did. But I know I'll never be able to.
I don't for a minute think I'm a victim. I made a choice. I had sex with my mother; I committed incest and I liked it. That knowledge and that memory will never go away.
By the morning, we'd said all there was to be said, and then it was over. That's the way it is with me and my Mom, once you've talked about it, it's just over. We never mentioned it again. I know neither of us had any intention of ever...doing what we did and I knew it would never happen again. I also know that I did it despite, not because it was my mother in the bed with me, and I understand why and how it happened. But it doesn't make me any more comfortable with the fact that I chose to do it and enjoyed doing it, and having to honestly admit that still makes me sick to think about it. Today, on a day to day basis, I don't think about it. I don't see my mom and start thinking about it. I don't blame her for it. But the memory will never go away.'
Maybe it's just because I'm a guy, and this involves two women, more than Becky and her mother, but it turns me on immensely. I don't, otherwise, get into incest fantasies. She is upset that I am excited by this. Which also disturbs me, because while Becky isn't at all turned on by the memory, at least, not in any way that she can enjoy, I am turned on every time I think about the two of them in her bed that night, even though I know she isn't. I haven't mentioned it to her in years. She has actually dreamed about that night a couple of times, that I know of, before Stephanie passed away, and woken up hot and excited, and then felt disgusted and ashamed. Now that Stephanie is gone, she hasn't mentioned anything about it and I doubt she ever will again.