Mother son incest written by man but made for a womam
Ok my story goes back a ways, at least to the point where I started having sex with my 14 year old son, I was 36 at the time and I know that its “wrong” but hey, we all come from different situations in life and this is how it started for me.
My husband worked for the auto industry back when that industry was strong. One of the little known facts about line workers in the auto industry is that the job is horribly monotonous and most of the workers deal with it by becoming drunks. I wish I could say my husband had risen above that or had somehow beaten the odds but he joined the ranks like so many other of his co-workers and became a drunk. My husbands name is Rick and with all the imagination of the world, our sons name became Rickie, so here’s “my side”
By the time Rickie had turned 14 my husbands drinking had gotten to the point where he would come home from work and get drunk. By this point he was passing out drunk in the livingroom. He had gained more weight then I had with me only being 36 at the time, I had little Rickie when I was 22 and we were newlyweds with Rick having a “good job” Well my husband had gained enough weight that I simply could not carry him to bed by myself and for some damnable reason I never thought to just let him sleep in the living room where he passed out.
The first time it was purely by accident, my husband had long since lost his sex drive to the bottle and I had been trying to spark it up at least some by wearing sexy nighties to bed, we are talking totally see through types that showed off my C cups to a rather nice advantage but I had been suffering in solitude for some time before this all began. I had my nightie on and my husband was passed out drunk and there was no waking him. I wrapped my bathrobe around me nice and tight to avoid letting “anything show” and got Rickie to help me haul his father upstairs to bed.
Now obviously at 14 my son had not developed any tact whatsoever so while we were hauling our dead weight through the house I noticed that his eyes were glued to my breasts, no effort put in hiding what he was staring at. I was furious with my husband enough at the time that I ignored it. We got my husband to the bed and without thinking I climbed up on the bed to pull while my son who was stronger than me picked up most of his dads weight and allowed me to pull him onto the bed. Now I saw Rickie looking down my top while I crawled backwards with his dad. At this point I was already ignoring his stares so I figured that I’d let it go for the night.
After Rickie had left the room I got a hand mirror from the master bath and did a little check. I looked in the mirror and saw that the way I had my robe on it hugged the outsides of my breasts. In mimicking the way we moved him I could see that my breasts were swaying back and forth quite a bit, I guess he did get a bit of a show, then I remembered the bed. I got back on my hands and knees on the bed with a hand mirror and tried to get an idea of what little Rickie had seen, oh my god. My breasts were hanging down in full view. I reproduced the effort of swaying back and forth like I had been while pulling my drunk hubby and my breasts were slapping each other silly back and forth. What’s more depending on the angle of the mirror it was entirely possible that my son may have actually seen some hair sticking out down there. I had not yet developed my middle age paunch that would have hidden my triangle of hair from that angle.
At first my stomach did flips, I could not believe that I had so carelessly exposed myself to my son like that. Then while laying down next to my passed out hubby in my sheer nightie it also dawned on me that little Ricky was the only person to have shown any interest in what I had hidden in years really. I really did not sleep well that night at all, just too many emotions but I do have a clear memory of what emotion won out. Anger at my husband for becoming a drunk, anger at being ignored, frustration, the sexual kind, anger at my husband for being the kind of drunk that has to be hauled off to bed by his 14 year old son. I think that this was the point more instinctive then anything at that point where I decided that if my husband wanted the bottle more than me and my son wanted to look. My quiet revenge would be to let him look.
The next night and every night after my husband repeated that ritual, the only change was the weekends when he was off. Then he just drank more.
The next night I was still feeling angry and ashamed but I still wasn’t totally sure about my son either. So, at bedtime when it was apparent that we were going to have to carry him again I got dressed, this time I put on panties, I was not so far gone as to want to show him that for gods sake. But I also tied my robe up and this time pulled it open more at the top to see if he would try looking down my top. To my relief and disappointment he showed no interest. At the bed I told him that it was his turn to pull and mine to lift, god I almost destroyed my back lifting him just to avoid letting my son see a little cleavage.
That is when I more clearly formed the idea in my mind that my quiet revenge against my husband would be to let our son steal glances at what his father was ignoring.. The next night and for the rest of the week I dressed just as I had the first night, except that I did wear my panties.
And that I always did the dragging on the bed while Rickie did the lifting, and without fail every single night little Ricky stared right at my breasts as they swayed back and forth under my robe. He never failed to look down my top as I drug his father backwards on the bed, it got to the point where I would intentionally swing them just to watch his eyes track their movement. I kept rationalizing my actions by telling myself that all he had to do was stay sober enough to walk himself to bed and then his wife would not be on display to their son. If it did happen, it wasn’t often enough to make a mark in my memory
Well the Saturday drink fest came and I was getting more and more angry at my hubby. So much so that when it came time to drag his limp body to bed I decided to raise it up a notch. Not by much really, just that I tied my robe a little be lower on my hips and loosened the top a bit more, just a bit more than I had the second day. Now that Ricky was obviously leering at his mother virtually every night. It did not take long at all for Ricky to realize the change and in no time at all he was standing taller and lifting more of his father, also standing closer to me in the process while looking down my top. That first night that I did that was INCREDIBLE, I had to back up like always while dragging drunk hubby and I now knew that from my sons position that my breasts were basically openly exposed. The top fell forward, the nightie fell forward and I could feel cooler air on them as they slapped back and forth while I crawled backward. That night was the closest I came again to the kind of shame I felt on the first night, but the feeling of revenge was still just as strong so I knew right there that I wasn’t going to stop.