Skip to content At nineteen, I was home from college, living with my mother. I sat on the couch when I heard her, keys rattling, a muttered curse, the thunk of her gym bag against the mudroom bench. I put my phone down and headed to the hallway just as she came limping in, one arm hanging useless and her face stuck between pain and embarrassment.
“Mom?” I said. “What happened?”
She gave me a wan smile, teeth bared in something almost like a grimace. “Your mother is an idiot,” she said, her voice warm but breathy. “I thought I could out-squat a girl half my age and wound up folding like a lawn chair.”
I grinned, half with relief that it wasn’t worse and half because that was so typical of her. She’d gone full fitness mom after the divorce. It worked for her, though. Forty-five, and even on a bad day she looked like she could out-glam every woman at Whole Foods.
At 5’6″, she had an athletic yet soft, feminine body with full, heavy double-D breasts, wide hips, and that sun-kissed beauty that had always turned heads. Her face was classically pretty: high cheekbones, full lips, warm brown eyes, and long wavy chestnut hair that was still damp from the gym.
“Let me see,” I said, stepping closer.
She lifted her left wrist. It was already swelling, skin puffed and angry pink. I reached out without thinking, cradling her hand with both of mine. She hissed at my touch but let me keep holding it.
“Mom, that’s bad. Did you ice it?”
“I had to drive home first,” she said, trying to sound tough and failing. “Could you help me get the ice? And maybe pop a couple Advil?”
“I’m on it,” I said, leading her to the kitchen.
I got her settled at the counter, put the ice over her arm, then did the whole Nurse Jake routine: filled a glass with water, unwrapped the Advil, even cut a couple slices of banana bread since she probably hadn’t eaten. The more she let me do, the more I could see how much she trusted me. It made me feel like I was seven and the world was only as big as her arms.
She ate in silence. There was a flush on her cheeks, probably from pain but maybe just from me staring at her so openly. I couldn’t help it. My mom was objectively hot, even with her hair in a sweaty ponytail and a thin slick of gym sheen across her neck and chest. Every summer since puberty I had to remind myself not to ogle her at the pool, not to linger over her curves in a way that would get me crucified if my friends ever caught me. But I never told anyone how, on bad nights, I sometimes jerked off to the memory of her hugging me after a baseball game.
After a while she looked up, brown eyes glinting. “You’re staring, baby.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Just worried, that’s all.”
She smiled and reached out to tousle my hair, then winced as she remembered the wrist. “You’re a good son,” she said.
I cleaned up the kitchen, loading the dishwasher with one ear cocked for any sign of her in distress. I finally let myself breathe when I heard her in the living room, stretched out on the sectional with her arm cradled in ice and Netflix autoplaying old episodes of some HGTV thing.
I sprawled next to her, grabbing a throw pillow for my lap to conceal the telltale tightness in my shorts. I tried to focus on the screen, but every time she shifted, her sports bra creaked and threatened to spill out more cleavage than I was emotionally prepared for. I tried not to look, but it was impossible. Even hurt, my mom was still a fucking bombshell.
We sat like that until the credits rolled and the room fell silent, just the buzz of cicadas through the open window.
“Jakey?” she said, her voice small.
“Yeah, Mom?”
“I… have a favor to ask. And it’s kind of weird and I’m so sorry, but I literally cannot do it myself.”
“Anything,” I said, heart thudding.
She chewed her lip, staring at the ceiling like it would give her the right words. “I… I have a doctor appointment tomorrow morning. The lady kind. I let things go a little… you know… wild down there. I thought I could manage a quick tidy-up, but I can’t hold the razor. I’m really sorry, baby, but could you help me shave?”
I blinked. For a second I was sure I’d misheard her. My brain caught fire, then promptly crashed and rebooted. “Shave…?”
“My bikini area,” she whispered. She wouldn’t look at me, just twisted the ice pack in her lap. “I hate to even ask, but I can’t have the nurse thinking I’m a sasquatch. Please?”
I swallowed. Every weird fantasy I’d ever suppressed tried to leap out at once, but I crushed them back and tried to focus on her pain, her trust in me. “Yeah,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t crack. “I’ll help you.”
She let out a breath. “Thank you, Jake. God, I can’t believe I just asked you that.”
I laughed. “No, it’s fine. Really.”
“We’ll do it after my shower, okay?” she said. “You can just… help me in the bathroom.”
“Sure,” I said, not trusting myself to add more.
I retreated to my room and sat on the edge of my bed, hands pressed to my face. I was hard as a rock, humiliated and turned on in equal measure. I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything else: baseball stats, the weird raccoon that raided our garbage cans, the time I walked in on my mom after a yoga class and she was bent over in see-through leggings and my entire worldview had changed. It didn’t help. When I finally heard the shower start, I nearly moaned out loud.
Thirty minutes later, she called my name. “Jake? Can you bring me a towel?”
I grabbed a fresh one from the hall closet and padded down the tile. When I opened the door, I had to stop myself from gaping. She was wrapped in a tiny hand towel, barely covering her breasts, her hair long and damp around her shoulders. Her bare legs looked smooth and tan against the white tile, and I could just see the curve of her hip where the towel gaped open.
“Can you help me, honey? I can’t dry my back,” she said, turning with that easy trust that had always unstrung me.
I tried to keep my gaze above her shoulders as I dabbed the towel along her back, but my hands trembled as I moved lower, tracing the ridge of her spine to the flare of her hips. I could feel her body heat through the towel, could see goosebumps rise on her skin. When I finished, she turned to face me, smiling softly.
“Thank you. God, this is humiliating.”
“It’s not,” I said. “You look great, Mom.”
She colored at the compliment but didn’t look away. “You’re sweet,” she said. “Okay. Here goes.”
She took a deep breath, then loosened the towel and let it drop. I thought I was prepared. I wasn’t. Her full, heavy double-D breasts hung naturally, soft yet firm, capped with beautiful rosy-pink nipples. Her waist curved gently into wide, womanly hips, and between her legs was a thick, dark, untamed bush that framed her plump outer lips. A hint of pink inner folds peeked through the soft curls. Her thighs were thick and smooth, and her ass, round, full, and plush, completed the picture of a mature, confident woman who had aged like fine wine.
A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face as I stared, but she steadied herself and stepped to the tub. She sat on the edge, legs parted just enough to grant me full access, but her hands gripped the porcelain.
I knelt between her knees, careful not to look directly at her crotch for too long, even though it was all I wanted. I tried to focus on the task, but every sense was overloaded: the scent of her body wash, the heat of her skin and the gentle quiver of her thighs as she shifted.
She handed me the razor and shaving cream with her good hand. “Just… be gentle, okay?”
I nodded, too tongue-tied to answer. I lathered her up, hands shaking as I spread foam across her mound and inner thighs. She giggled nervously, the sound sending a shock straight to my cock.
“Sorry, it tickles,” she said.
I smiled, finding my voice. “I’ll be careful.”
I started with the easy parts:her outer thighs, the line above her mound. I could feel her watching me, trusting me. Her breathing changed as I moved closer to the lips of her pussy. I tried not to touch her more than necessary, but it was impossible. I had to steady her skin with my thumb, had to guide the razor along the curve of her labia, had to rinse the blade and start again.
She shifted, spreading her legs a bit wider. Her pussy glistened beneath the foam, the soft pinkness of her inner lips showing through. I could see the wetness starting, a shimmer that had nothing to do with the shower. I tried not to react, but my hands trembled so badly I almost nicked her.
She noticed. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said, her hand stroking my hair. “You’re doing great. Just a little more on the sides.”
I nodded, moving in closer. I could smell her arousal now, not sharp but sweet, layered over the vanilla and steam. Every time my fingers brushed her skin she shivered, and when I ran the razor down the center of her slit, she whimpered.
“Too much?” I asked.
She shook her head, face flushed. “It feels good,” she whispered.
I finished the job, rinsing her with a wash cloth. I wiped away the last of the foam and gazed at my handiwork: her pussy, totally bare and glistening. She looked down, admiring it too.
“You’re amazing, Jake,” she said. “I hope this wasn’t too weird for you.”
I swallowed, my erection almost painful inside my shorts. “I… I liked helping,” I said.
She caught me staring, and for a second neither of us moved. Then she reached out, her palm cupping my cheek.
“You’re so handsome,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
She slid forward on the tub, her legs parted, her pussy so close to my face I could taste the scent of it. Her hand found the back of my head and guided me in.
“You did such a good job, sweetheart,” she whispered, voice thick. “If you want to… lick me, you can … I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
I hesitated, every voice in my head screaming no, but the one that mattered said yes. “Uhm, you sure?”
“Yeah, only if you want to.”
I definitely did. I leaned in and pressed my tongue to her slit, tasting the mix of her skin and the aftermath of the shower and her natural musky scent. She moaned and dug her fingers into my hair.
I licked her softly at first, just tracing the folds with the tip of my tongue. She trembled, her thighs tightening around my head. I grew bolder, flattening my tongue and lapping up and down her bare pussy, circling her clit until she moaned louder. I lost myself in it, my nose buried in her softness, the world narrowed to the taste and heat of my mom’s body.
When she came, it was sudden and violent. She clamped down, her whole body arching, her fingers clutching my scalp as if she’d float away otherwise. She rode my tongue through the tremors, gasping my name over and over. “Oh that felt wonderful,” she said. And then her eyes lowered to my bulge. “Want me to take care of that?”
“Definitely,” I said. “I’m so hard it hurts.”
Mom smiled. She slid off the edge of the tub and knelt on the bath mat in front of me, still completely naked. Her full breasts swayed gently as she moved. She looked up at me. “You’ve been so good to me today,” she whispered, her good hand resting on my thigh. “Let Mommy take care of you.”
I helped her tug my shorts and boxers down. My cock sprang free, rock hard and already leaking pre-cum at the tip. Mom’s eyes widened slightly, a small, pleased sound escaping her lips.
“Oh, baby… you’re so hard,” she murmured, wrapping her left hand around the base. Her fingers felt warm and soft as she gave me a slow, experimental stroke. I groaned, my hips twitching forward involuntarily.
She leaned in and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the head, her tongue flicking out to taste the bead of pre-cum. Then she took me into her mouth, slow and deep, her lips stretching around my thickness. The heat was incredible. Her tongue swirled around the head, then slid along the underside as she bobbed gently, taking more of me with each pass.
I threaded my fingers through her damp hair, careful not to pull too hard. “Mom… fuck, that feels so good…”
She hummed around my cock, the vibration sending sparks up my spine. She took me deeper, her throat relaxing as she worked more of my length into her mouth. Her left hand stroked what she couldn’t fit, twisting gently at the base while her tongue danced along the shaft. The wet, slurping sounds echoed off the bathroom tiles, obscene and perfect.
She pulled back for air, a string of spit connecting her bottom lip to the head of my cock. She looked up at me, eyes glassy with lust. “You taste so good, sweetheart,” she whispered. “I’ve thought about this more than I should have.”
Before I could respond, she dove back down, taking me all the way to the back of her throat. She gagged softly but didn’t pull away, her eyes watering as she held me there, swallowing around me. The feeling was mind-blowing. I groaned loudly, my hand tightening in her hair as I fought the urge to thrust.
She bobbed faster, her head moving in a steady flow, her full lips sliding up and down my shaft. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her breasts, making them glisten. She used her hand to stroke me in time with her mouth, twisting at the top, then plunging back down. Every few strokes she would pull off completely, slap my wet cock against her tongue, and look up at me with pure adoration.
“You’re so hard for Mommy,” she purred, licking a long stripe from my balls to the tip. “I love making you feel this good.”
I was losing control. My hips started moving on their own, fucking her mouth in shallow thrusts. Mom moaned encouragingly, her eyes never leaving mine. She took me deeper, her throat working around me, her hand massaging my balls.
“I’m gonna cum,” I warned, my voice ragged.
She pulled back just enough to speak, her lips brushing the head. “Don’t worry, Mommy will take every drop.”
That was it. I groaned deeply as my orgasm hit. Thick, powerful ropes of cum erupted from my cock, flooding her mouth. True to her words, Mom swallowed greedily, milking every last drop. She kept sucking gently, drawing out every tremor until I was completely spent and twitching.
When I finally pulled out, she licked her lips, a small dribble of cum at the corner of her mouth. She wiped it with her thumb and sucked it clean, smiling up at me with a satisfied, loving look. “How did it feel?”
“Amazing,” I told her in bliss.
I helped her to her feet, my legs shaky. She leaned into me, her naked body warm against mine and kissed me softly on the lips. “Thank you for helping me today, sweetheart,” she said. “I think we both needed this.”
“Definitely,” I said.
Enjoyed this story?
Browse the books → Incest Books
Get 50% off your first order.
Use code: FIRSTREAD
Or if you want to read similar stories → Mom-son incest stories