I apologize to anyone who had the misfortune of reading this before I modified it. I realized, reading it over, that it actually seems she is being forced to have sex against her will. No, it is consensual sex, this is about loosening of inhibitions towards taboos. The son knows his mother very well and is certain she is actually enjoying it. It just takes her a while to realize something she had been suppressing for a long time, and he merely acts as a helping hand in that realization.
Sincere apologies to anyone who was offended by the previous post. Both 1 and 2 are being changed.
Finally, Mother is of Austrian origin, so read her stuff replacing W's with V's and V's for W's. Basically Hogan's Heroes accents, except hot babe. It is from her point of view:
I cannot believe what is happening right now. I am laid out on my left side on my couch. My hands are tied with cord behind my back, my ankles are also tied together. My black skirt, hose and panties are bundled up around my calves. My button-down shirt is untied and around my arms, my bra is undone and pulled up around my neck.
My bare bottom is sore from the spanking I've just received. I thought my ordeal ended with the spanking, but continues.
And the unimaginable part is that my 22 year old son, Marcus, is laying next to me, completely naked, pushing his strong body against my back. He has one arm around me, stroking my bare breasts. He has pushed his penis, just the tip, into my vagina, about 1/2 inch. I struggle and writhe, but his strong hands hold me in place.
But despite my initial horror, I felt it slowly start to wear off. I couldn't explain why. I had very strong religious inhibitions, and this was incest pure and simple! But I began to lose myself in it, and my son is a man few women would turn down a chance to be with. But the nice feeling would be spoiled when I remembered it was my son providing this physical pleasure, and I would protest:
"Marcus, stop this, stop! I am your Mother! This is forbidden! Stop it now!"
How did this happen? Here is what I endured for the last hour, and am wondering how what is happening now will turn out:
When my husband, a very wealthy man, died a few years ago, he left a will indicating that Marcus would be in charge of the estate. Marcus is a very intelligent and capable boy. He left instructions that he was to take care of me. He paid all of my cost of living bills and I was allowed a $12,000 a month stipend to indulge myself. I know, my indulgences were very expensive. I kept over spending, and Marcus, who is very responsible, would get upset when I would call and ask for more money.
That morning, I learned of a fashion show in Paris that I simply had to attend. I had already spent my allowance, and called Marcus, begging him that I had to go to that show! I had to be there, even if it would cost $5,000 just for a weekend.
I could tell he was very flustered by my request when I called. I begged him to give me the money, and after a long pause, he sighed, "Mother, we need to talk, we've talked about this before, but you just don't seem to get it."
I begged, "Oh, please, Marcus, for your Mother, just this once, oh be a good boy.." I purred the phrase, hoping to manipulate him, as I was adept at doing in the past.
He came over about an hour later, I ran up and gave him a hug and a kiss. 'Oh, I knew you would be good to your mother!"
He wasn't smiling, and did not return the hug. He said, "Mother have a seat so we can talk. This is not the first time we've discussed this. Do you realize how much money you have been spending? You're about to burn through the entire trust in less than 4 years since Dad died. You can't keep doing this, it has to stop."
"Oh, I know I spend quite a bit, but why can't your Mother have nice things."
He gasped, exasperated, "Mother, you are just so spoiled! I can't let you waste my father's money like that! This has to stop, and it stops today."
"Can't it stop after I go to Paris? Be a good boy and let your Mother go to Paris."
He stood up, "Mother, I'm going to teach you the same way you taught me when I was out of line. Get up and go stand in the corner, hands over your head."
"Marcus why? I am your mother, don't talk to me that way!"
"I'm not obligated to give you any money at all, Mother, if you want to ever go to Paris again, I suggest you obey me."
I could not believe my son was talking to me this way, but all I could think of was Paris. Reluctantly, I stood up, walked to the corner of the kitchen and put my hands over my head. He left the room and was gone for a few minutes. What did he mean by "teach you the same way you taught me"? Of course I used to spank him, but he would never do that to his Mother.
I heard his steps returning from the basement, I said, "OK, Marcus, I got punished standing in the corner, so why don't you just give me the money..."
He cut me off, "Your lesson has not even begun Mother!"
He deftly, and forcefully grabbed my hands from over my head and clamped them behind my back. I was so shocked I could not even respond. He pushed his body against mine so I was pressed into the wall, and he wrapped some type of rope around my wrists.
I screamed, "Marcus, what are you doing!? What are you doing!? Stop it! I don't understand, this is wrong!"
He didn't respond, he grabbed my tied up wrists and started pulling me away from the wall. "Let's have a seat", he said calmly.
Completely shocked by what was happening, I struggled to escape, I was flailing my legs around, kicking, even kicking him, "Stop let me go! Let me go!" I was flailing wildly. I heard him chuckle a bit and he did let me go. My legs were spinning like I was riding a bicycle, and without his grip, I fell flat on my face. He laughed again, and then he pushed me down on the floor and straddled me, as I continued to struggle.
"Oh, Mother, please, don't be difficult.."
Then I felt more ropes being tied around my ankles. "We'll have to keep you from going anywhere. I never expected a disciplinarian like you to be so uncooperative."
"No, Marcus, stop, why are you doing this, stop! Don't treat your Mother that way!"
"It's only because I love you Mother." He tied the ropes tight around my ankles, then grabbed each of my arms and pulled me up to standing. He turned me to face him, put his arms around my waist and lifted me over his shoulders. "As I said before, let's have a seat."
He carried me through the kitchen to the dining room. He held me over his shoulder with one hand, as I continued to squirm and struggle. With the other, he pulled out a chair from the dining room table. He sat down, and with his strong arms lifted me off of his shoulder and placed me over his leg, he pushed my tied up legs between his and clamped down hard with his own thighs, ensuring I couldn't move.
"Marcus, what is this! Stop it, stop it! I am your Mother!"
"Mother, if you want your son's respect, you have to start behaving like an adult, now I'll get you ready for your little lesson. You know what I'm doing, you've done it enough times to me."
He reached under my knee length skirt, up to the waist, and grabbed the band of my hose and panties, he began pulling down, pulling them up to where his legs gripped mine. I went hysterical!
"Marcus, no, no, I beg you!"
"Yes, you beg all the time, don't you, to go to Paris."
He then undid the buttons on the back of my skirt, and pulled it down. My bare bottom was now completely exposed. Wait, what was he thinking!
"Marcus, you shouldn't look at your Mother this way!"
"Maybe, but I think I need to look at you this way, so you will learn."
"Marcus, no......" I was on the verge of tears. He placed his palm on my bottom, and began running it in figure-8s.
"No, Mother the fact that you can't handle money likely means that you have a hard time with math. Well, we're going to teach you a little lesson in math. As I proceed to spank you, you will count each time I strike you."
"What! Marcus! Stop this, you do not spank your Mother! You do not!"
He lifted his hand and came down hard, he's a strong boy, and I felt the sting of his bare hand.
"Aaaaaah..! Stop that hurt! This is crazy Marcus, stop!"
"I thought I told you to count!"
I was so helpless and shocked in this situation, I just said, teary, "One"
"Oh, very good Mother, you learn fast. Sure this is going to hurt. But you might learn something, remember to count."
His hand dealt me another stinging blow.
