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From: threefriedeggs <parth_nogenesis@XXXhotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sweet Grapes 2 (mF, inc, mom/son, cons)
Date: Thu, 19 Dec 2002 07:10:02 -0500
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This story is about incest.  It contains detailed descriptions of the
sexual relationship between a 13-year-old boy and his mother.  If you
are not of legal age in your community, or if you find such material
offensive, don't read it.

This story has no author.  It was born of the parthenogenesis of
cyberspace.  Please keep it that way. 


Sweet Grapes
by Parthenogenesis


Chapter 2

Only after I'd spurted my last spurt did Mom relax her grip on my
cock.  "Larry," she gulped, her voice low and soft, catching in her
throat, "you've got to get out of here."  Slowly, she shifted her
weight, rocking forward and bracing her hands carefully on the edge of
the tub.  As she raised her body, I felt myself come out of her, and
it seemed to me that her pussy was still trying to hang on.  When she
was standing, I noticed that her knees were shaking.

I stood and stepped out of the tub, and Mom turned to face me.  I was
expecting her to give me six or eight different kinds of hell, but her
eyes looked incredibly soft and deep.

"Mom," I began, "I--"

"Larry, baby, it's okay.  Please don't try to say anything."

I picked up the Time magazine and went back to my room.  I lay down on
the bed again, just looking at the ceiling, trying real hard not to
think of anything.  When Mom finished her bath, she knocked on my door
and politely called out, "Your turn."

I took my bath, then went back downstairs and found Mom and Aunt
Nellie chatting on the porch again.  I sat with them for a while, but
I wasn't paying any attention to what they were saying.  My head was
spinning.  First, I'd fallen and put my nose right into Mom's crotch,
and I couldn't forget her woman-smell.  Then she'd fallen, and in the
process of my trying to catch her, two of my fingers had gone right
into her pussy, and I wanted to live again the feeling of touching all
of Mom's private places.  Then we'd both fallen, and we'd fucked,
whether we'd meant to or not.  I knew that I should have been
horrified for having had sex with my own mother and feel guilty for
it, but I didn't.  Mom was a fine looking woman, whether she was my
mother or not.  When I looked way, deep down inside myself, the truth
I found was that I wanted to smell her and feel her and fuck her
again.  That's what I felt guilty about.

All of a sudden, I was aware of Mom and Aunt Nellie standing,
stretching, yawning, and exclaiming about the lateness of the hour and
how sleepy they were.  I followed them into the house, then trudged up
the stairs behind Mom.  At the top of the stairs, we bade each other a
civilized good-night.  Mom took her final turn at the bathroom and I
took mine, and we retired to our bedrooms.

I took off my clothes and got under just a sheet.  I was still
thinking about Mom, so, of course, I got a hard-on.  But I didn't jack
off as usual.  I didn't want to spoil the memory of the feeling of
fucking Mom.  I just lay there, waiting for sleep to come, willing my
mind to stop.  Just when I was falling over the edge into sleep,
consciousness a waterfall breaking into veils and droplets blowing
away in the wind, my door opened and a ghost stepped into my room.  I
was so startled that I sat bolt upright in bed.  No, it wasn't a
ghost, of course.  It was Mom, wearing a loose, flowing white
nightgown.

"Larry, are you awake?" she whispered.

"Now I am," I said.  "I was just dropping off to sleep, and when you
walked in, at first I thought I was seeing a ghost."

"I'm sorry," she said.  "I didn't mean to scare you.  I was having
trouble going to sleep, thinking about everything that happened today.
I finally decided that you and I needed to talk, but it can wait until
tomorrow if you're too sleepy."

I wasn't at all sure that I did want to talk.  Despite my guilt and
confusion, I was enjoying my memories and my fantasies, and I didn't
particularly want them to be brought to an end by reality.  I was
afraid.  I wasn't sure what I was afraid of.  Maybe I was afraid that
Mom was going to give me some kind of lecture and tell me to put the
events of the day out of my mind, for good.  Maybe I was afraid that
she would be angry.  Maybe I was afraid that she'd want to steer clear
of me.  I didn't know.  Maybe I was afraid because I thought that fear
was the appropriate thing to be feeling, a proper reaction to guilt.
A need for some kind of punishment to set things right.  But it was
clear that Mom and I had some unfinished business that needed taking
care of, so I decided that the right thing to do was clear the air and
be done with it.

"No, I'm not sleepy, and you're right, we need to talk.  I think it
would be better if we did it now."

"Larry, the things that happened between us today were strange,
bizarre accidents.  I never in my life would have dreamed of such
things happening.  But I know that they had an effect on me, and my
guess is that they must have had an effect on you.  I think that the
easiest thing to do would be to put our feelings into tidy little
boxes, to say to each other what we think is 'right' to say, not what
we really feel.  I am going to try to be completely honest with you,
and I hope that you'll do your best to be completely honest with me.
Fair enough?"

"Fair enough."

Mom sat down on the bed, about even with my hips.  She was a pale
shadow in the faint light coming through the window.

"Ok, then, let me ask you:  do you feel bad about what happened
today?"

"Yes.  No.  Both."

"That sounds honest enough.  Then let's talk about both.  First, what
do you feel bad about?"

"I feel like I've done something very wrong, something that I
shouldn't have done.  The word 'shouldn't' keeps echoing around
everything I'm thinking, no matter what I think."

"Larry, in thinking about things, I've had to be honest with myself
and to admit that whatever happened was half my responsibility.  If
I'd moved the ladder when you suggested it, or if I hadn't tried to
reach out too far, then I wouldn't have fallen.  If I'd been more
sensible about the tarantula, or if I'd given you just a minute to put
some clothes on, or if I'd just got out of the tub and come and got
you, then we wouldn't have...I wouldn't have fallen on you.  Right?"

"Yes, but..."

"But what?"

"But I touched you in places I shouldn't have.  It was wrong.  And
when you fell on me in the bathtub, we didn't just...I mean, it wasn't
just that...I mean, well I..."

"Came?"

"Yes, c-came, right inside of you.  I tried not to, but I couldn't
help it.  This is so embarrassing."

"Sweetie-pie, I am a married woman.  I know what a male orgasm is.
And I know that thirteen-year-old boys come easily and a lot.  It was
only natural, and I hope you'll try to get over your embarrassment.

"But let's forget what you felt bad about for right now.  What didn't
you feel bad about?"

"Do I have to tell you this?"

"No, but I wish you would."

I was silent for a long moment.  Mom waited patiently, not pressing.

"Well, ok, then, the truth is that this is both good and bad.  I liked
it.  I enjoyed it.  I liked touching you between your legs and I
liked...I liked, uh...I, uh, you know, when we were in the bath tub.
But I feel bad because I liked it."

"Larry, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your courage in telling
me how you really felt.  Emotions are funny things.  They tend to go
their own ways, no matter how we might think we'd like to feel.  Now,
let me tell you my truth:  I felt pretty much the same way you did."

Mom was speaking very softly, almost whispering.

"When I felt your hand sliding up my leg, after I realized that you'd
caught me and I got over being scared to death that I was going to
break my neck--you know, I was so scared that I almost peed in my
pants, and if I had, it would have run all over your hands and down
your arms, and wouldn't that have been something--I was both afraid
that your hand was going to go between my legs and at the same time
hoping that it would.  I've noticed how you've grown lately, and I
think that maybe every mother feels some sexual attraction to her son,
well, it's one of those good and bad things because if we feel it,
we're supposed to shut it off.  Anyway, I began to feel a thrill as
your hand got closer and closer to my crotch, and when your fingers
went inside of me, and I felt you touching the front of me, I let go
of my resistance and....  Oh, Larry, I liked it--a lot.

"Then, in the bath tub, I guess I must have wanted you to see me
naked, and when you said that you didn't have any clothes on, I wanted
to see you too, and when I saw your hard-on, I really didn't know what
I was going to do next.  But when I landed on you and realized that
you'd gone right up inside of me, I ... I ... I realized that part of
my life has been missing for a long time, I mean, you know, your dad
seems to spend most of his time and energy at work any more.  Then,
when you came, and I felt your cock pulsing inside of me, I couldn't
control my reaction.

"To be completely honest with you, when I think about it, I believe
that everything that happened today was really my fault, and I don't
want you to feel guilty for it."

Her fault?  She liked it?  Oh, God.  What should I say now?  After a
few seconds, I decided that the best course was to carry on honestly.
With a very dry throat, I said, almost in a whisper, "There's still
one thing I feel guilty about, and I'm scared to mention it, to say it
out loud."

Mom looked at me with nothing but tenderness in her eyes.  "What is
it, sweetie?  I can't make you tell me, but I will promise not to be
angry with anything you say.  It would be best if we can deal with all
the guilt and be done with it."

"You're right about that.  I don't want to go around feeling guilty."

I sat silently for what seemed like a long time, trying to work up my
courage.  Finally, I decided that I had to get the words out in the
open.

"The real truth, Mom, is that I'd like to touch you again.  More."

Mom reached up and took both my hands in hers.  "Larry," she said, her
whisper becoming husky, "please try not to feel guilty about that.
I'd like you to touch me more, too, but I was afraid that if I let you
know, you'd think I wasn't acting like a proper mother, and that you'd
be repulsed by the idea of being close to me.  I know that, to you, I
seem ancient.  I was afraid you'd think I was an old hag."

"Mom!  You're beautiful.  You know that.  And you're hardly ancient.
Maybe in another year or two," I couldn't resist adding, "but not
yet."

Mom leaned toward me and kissed me on the mouth, her lips soft and
moist.  I thought I felt her tongue tickle my lips just as she pulled
back.

"But," she said, "if we're going to tell the whole truth and nothing
but the truth, then I have to tell you that there were two things
wrong."

My heart stopped.  What could it have been?

"The first thing was, when your fingers were inside of me, you pulled
your hand out so fast that it hurt.  You have to be gentle and easy
with a woman's tender flesh.  This is something you should know.
After all, one of these days you're going to be grown up enough to be
petting with girls your own age."

My heart started again.  I was unhappy that I'd caused Mom pain, but
it was a simple mistake, a reaction to fear.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Mom.  I was afraid I'd done something really
wrong, and I thought I should get my hand away as fast as I could."

"Can I show you something?" Mom asked.

"Sure," I said.

Mom stood and slipped the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders,
and the nightgown fell to the floor.  She was no more than a
suggestion of a nude woman in the faint light.  She sat back down on
the bed, closer to my waist this time.

"If you treat a woman right," she said, "her vagina will make its own
lubrication so that you can enter her easily.  Then you'll be able to
slide your fingers or your penis in and out of her without having to
worry about hurting her.  Most women's breasts are erotic.  Would you
mind touching and kissing my breasts, and sucking my nipples?"

Would I mind?  I didn't tell Mom that that was a dumb question.  I
just sat up and leaned forward.  I put one arm behind her back and
began to touch her breasts softly with the other hand.  Mom's breasts
were small and firm, in keeping with her athletic figure.  They just
barely cupped on the bottom.  Gently and slowly, I ran my hand under
her breasts and over them, squeezing just a bit, tracing the outline
of her nipples with a fingertip.  After a few minutes, I leaned
farther forward and kissed her breasts all around, and licked them.
Then I licked around her nipples, and finally took one of her nipples
into my mouth.  I sucked it and ran my tongue over its rough top, and
bit lightly.  Mom tipped her head was back and moaned.

Then Mom reached over and took my left hand.  "Now," she said,
throatily, "feel here."

Mom placed my hand right on top of her bush, and, using her middle
finger as a guide, pressed my middle finger into her slit and down
toward her pussy.  It was warm and wet and slippery.

"See?" she said.

I began to move my finger up and down between Mom's legs.  She put her
arms behind her and leaned back, spreading her legs as she did.  I ran
my finger up and down and up and down.  She got wetter and wetter, and
her breathing became more audible.  I reached my finger down as far as
I could, almost to her asshole, and felt that the wetness had run down
there, too.  I moved my finger back up, bringing her juices with it,
and felt the hard nub of her clitoris.  I made circles around her
clitoris, rubbing it gently on the sides and the bottom.  Mom's
breathing got faster.  Her wet pussy felt so good that I thought I
could have rubbed it forever, and I just kept my finger moving up and
down, in and out, around and around.

Then, suddenly, Mom made a little sound like, "Eep!"  I could hear her
catch her breath and press her mouth closed to keep from crying out,
and her legs slammed together, trapping my hand.  Her whole body
seemed wracked with spasms, and her legs clenched and relaxed,
clenched and relaxed.  When the spasms stopped and her breath started
again, she was panting.  My cock was rock hard, tenting the sheet, and
the sheet was wet with oozing come.

Mom turned toward me and fell into me, wrapping her right arm around
my neck and grasping my rigid cock in her left hand.  Her breath
against my neck was nearly scalding.

"The other thing wrong," she gasped, "was that in the bathtub, you got
to finish what you started.  I didn't."

She stood up and yanked the sheet off of me, then lay down on her back
beside me.  "C'mere," she said, pulling me on top of her.

She spread her legs wide, then reached down and took hold of my cock
and guided it to her dripping pussy.  With one push, I was in to the
hilt.

At first, I just lay there, feeling the slick, grasping heat of Mom's
cunt wrapped around my cock, understanding suddenly that being inside
a woman was something that could never be described.  It had to be
experienced.  All the nerve endings in my body seemed suddenly
sensitized, and, without thought, I simply felt--felt the wet heat
that was the focus of my attention, felt all of Mom's skin pressed
against mine, felt the swell of her breasts against my chest, and felt
the hard bumps of her nipples insisting slightly at my ribs, felt a
slight cooling breeze across my damp back.  At the same time, I was
thinking, "I'm fucking!  I'm actually fucking!  And she wants to do
it!  So this is what it's like!"  Then I felt an increase in pressure
against my cock as Mom slowly squeezed, from the inside, and my cock
flexed in automatic response.

"Oh, Larry," Mom sighed.  "You feel SO good."

Mom hooked her ankles around the backs of my knees and wrapped her
arms around my ribs.  She started rubbing my back lightly and began a
rocking movement with her hips.  When she began to rock, I began
moving my cock in and out of her.  In seconds, we'd achieved a rhythm
that had her hips rising to meet my downthrusts and then rocking back
down as I withdrew.

Not really knowing what to do, I just continued this movement for
several minutes, glad that I'd come only an hour before, or I would
have shot my rocks off in an instant.  Then something automatic seemed
to take over, and I began to vary the rhythm.  After Mom's hips rocked
down, I didn't immediately move back down to catch her upthrust.
Instead, I adjusted my motion so that just the head of my cock was
inside Mom, almost as if I were going to pull out.  Mom gasped.  Then,
slightly out of sync with the regular movement, I suddenly thrust into
her forcefully, driving my cock in until our pubic bones were grinding
together and my balls were resting against Mom's asshole, and I
stopped, pinning Mom to the bed even as she tried to move.  A breathy
"Oh!" exploded from Mom's open mouth.

And then we went wild.  Mom wasn't rocking her hips any longer, she
was bucking as if she were trying to escape, but at the same time, she
raised her hips and locked her ankles around the small of my back so
that I couldn't get away.  In a contest of tension, she bucked and
held; I wrested and thrust.  I wasn't just moving in and out of her
any more.  I was soaring and gliding, dipping and thrusting, slashing
and stabbing, gentle and pounding.  Mom's gentle caresses on my back
turned into the rake of her fingernails, and she began to pant as if
she were running the race of her life.  I could feel my orgasm
starting to build just forward of my asshole.  It seemed to me that my
cock was doubling in size and hardness, and that the pressure building
inside of me was threatening to explode.  I began to pant, too, and to
draw in and out of Mom to the full length of my cock, faster and
faster.

Suddenly, Mom grabbed the cheeks of my ass with what felt like all her
strength, digging her fingernails in, and bucked upward, slamming her
hips against mine with bruising force--and then stayed there, her legs
crushing me against her.  "Uh!" Mom exhaled.  "Mmf!  Mmf!  Mmf!,"
muffling her sounds against my collarbone.  And then I exploded.  I
came with such force that I was afraid for a second that I'd torn the
inside of my cock out, afraid that the violence of my ejaculation
would pierce Mom's womb like bullets.  And I came, and I came, and I
came.

Probably our orgasms lasted only seconds, but it could have been
hours.  Time stopped, became meaningless.  All that existed was
sensation.  Coming until I thought my brains were draining out my
cock.  Coming even after I was dry, I think.  Coming until I hurt, I'd
squeezed so hard and so long.  And then we relaxed.

Mom was still panting as if she'd just crossed a finish line.  "Oh,
God!" she breathed.  "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.  I've never...  I
never thought...  Oh, God... Larry, you just don't know...  Oh, God!"
And then she went limp all over, panting and catching her breath.

I raised up on my elbows to give her breathing room, suddenly aware
from the cooling of my chest that we were dripping wet.  As Mom's
breathing slowed back to normal, I traced her hairline with one
finger, brushing her damp bangs back from her forehead.  From time to
time, her pussy would contract and a slight shudder would run through
her body.  I blew gently on her forehead, then kissed all across it.
I kissed her eyelids and the end of her nose, and I kissed her cheeks
and her ears.  Then I kissed her mouth.  She responded with a wide
kiss, pressing her tongue against my lips and into my mouth, softly,
lovingly.

My cock was shriveling, finally.  I rolled off Mom and lay on my left
side, and she rolled to her right side, facing me.  Our arms were were
folded across our chests, touching.  Mom extended one arm and rubbed
the end of my nose with her index finger.  "Oh, baby, that takes care
of the second problem," she said, with a throaty chuckle, "oh, boy,
does that take care of the second problem.  I feel like I've been to
heaven and back.  I'm melted.  I don't have any bones."

"Mom," I began, my voice cracking in a hoarse whisper, "I don't know
what to say.  I mean, I've never...  I can't...  I..."

Mom rubbed the end of my nose again.  "Shh, then," she said.  "You
don't have to say a word."

We lay together like that for another indeterminate period of time,
and, as I felt myself drifting toward sleep, Mom stirred.  "I'm about
to fall asleep," she said.  "Oh, Larry, I'd love to spend the night
cuddled up against you, but I've got to go to my room.  I'd hate to
have Aunt Nellie decide to come upstairs in the morning and find us in
the same bed."

My cocoon of sleepiness unraveled into disappointment.  I guess I'd
just assumed that Mom and I would continue to lie together like that.
"Nuts," I said.  "You're right."  I kissed Mom on the end of her nose,
and we shared one last lingering kiss.  I think I was alseep even
before Mom had left my room.

parth_nogenesis@XXXhotmail.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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