My Mother - Part 1

It's been two weeks since dad's past away and mom's never been more vulnerable.

At 42 my mother is a strikingly beautiful woman with long, raven-black hair that cascades down her back like a waterfall. Her green eyes sparkle with a hint of sadness, mirroring the pain she's been carrying since dad's passing. She's petite and slender, her small breasts barely visible beneath her clothing. Despite the grief etched on her face, she still maintains an air of grace and elegance.

Now me on the other hand, slender with short brown hair and striking grey eyes. At 5'8", I tower over my petite mother, adding to the sense of dominance I feel around her I think. ( I know I would have no problem controlling her physically ) My muscular build hints at my burgeoning adulthood, while my youthful face still holds traces of innocence. Despite the turmoil within me, there's an undeniable allure about me that captivates those around me so I've been told. 18 I look forward to the challenges life's going to throw at me.

As mom continues to grieve the loss of my father, she seeks solace in spending time with me. I can't help but feel an intense mix of emotions - sympathy for her pain and desire for her attention. Despite knowing that acting on these feelings would be inappropriate and hurtful to her, I find myself struggling to control my thoughts and urges.

My heart races as I gently place my hand on my mother's thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips. I study her reaction closely, unsure of how she'll react to my bold move. Will she push me away? Or will she reciprocate these feelings?

She turns to face me and I you can see the confusion and sadness in her eyes. She softly whispers, "Please don't." But you can't help yourself. You press your lips against her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours. For a moment, you savor this forbidden closeness before pulling away slightly.

"I'm sorry, Mom," you whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. "I just... I can't stop. Don't make me hurt you." You look at her, waiting for her reaction, unsure of what to expect.

Your mother looks at you with a mix of sadness and defeat. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slowly. "Please ... don't."

Despite your plea for understanding, your mother's expression remains filled with sadness and fear. She shakes her head slightly, her eyes welling up with tears. "I can't... I won't," she whispers, her voice shaking. "This isn't right. We're family.

She takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "We need to talk about this," she says finally, her voice steady but cold. "But not now." She stands up abruptly, leaving you sitting on the couch.

I jump up and taking her by the arm I pull her back down onto the couch next to me. We'll talk about it now I tell her."

My mother looks up at me, tears streaming down her face. "Please, son," she begs, her voice trembling. "I don't want to talk about this now. Not like this. Can we just... give each other some time?"

You can feel your heart racing, the desire for her overpowering your rational thoughts. You lean in close, your breath hot against her ear. "No, Mom," you whisper. "We talk about this now ."

She whimpers, her body trembling under your touch. "Please, son," she whispers again, looking at you with fear-filled eyes.

Taking a deep breath, my mother hesitates before speaking. "I know this is hard for you to understand," she says softly. "But we're family. We're supposed to protect and support each other, not hurt each other like this.

"And I love you too much," she continues, her voice breaking. "I can't lose you too. I don't want this feeling you have to be the reason you push me away or hurt me." Tears stream down her face unabatedly.

My desire for her overwhelming all rational thought. I lean in closer, my heart racing wildly. "But I want you," I whisper, my voice raw with emotion. "I need you. And I'll do anything to make you mine."

She gasps, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. She shakes her head, trying to deny what you're saying. "No, son," she whispers. "We can't do this. It's wrong. We're family."

I lean in closer still, my breath hot against her cheek. "Please, Mom," I whisper, my voice hoarse with need. "I want you so much. Tell me what I have to do to make you mine. otherwise I'll take what I want."

She gasps as my hand brushes against her inner thigh, the sensation sending shockwaves through her body. She trembles with fear and terror under your touch, her breath coming in short, quick gasps.

Her eyes dart around the room, searching for a way out, but there's nowhere for her to go. You're the only one here with her. She whimpers softly, you can't deny it anymore - this is what you want, what you need. You slide your hand higher up her thigh, towards the edge of her panties.

"Please, Mom," you whisper, your voice thick with desire. "Submit to me."

Her cries echo through the room, filling it with sorrow and despair. "No, please," she whispers, her voice breaking. "Don't do this to us. We're family."

Despite her protests, you continue to push forward, your hand inching closer to her core. You can feel the heat radiating off of her body, the sweet scent of her filling the air.

"Please," she begs again, her voice cracking. "I don't want this. Stop."

But you can't stop. Not now. Not when you're so close to claiming what you desire most.

Your mother's eyes widen with fear and horror as you pull her to her feet. She tries to resist, but your grip is firm. "No, please where are we going," she whispers, her voice shaking. To the bedroom I tell her gently. "No this isn't right. We can't do this." She cries.

You ignore her pleas, leading her towards the bedroom. As you walk, you can feel her pulling backwards trying to stop you. She stumbles along behind you, her heart pounding in her chest sobbing.

Entering the bedroom "Mom," you whisper, your voice hoarse. "I need you to submit to me."

I pick her up and put her on the bed. Her struggles only intensify your desire for her. You grab her wrists, pinning them above her head as you lean in close. "Fight me all you want," you whisper, your lips brushing against hers. "But you're mine."

Her lips part slightly, trembling under the force of your kiss. She whimpers softly,. "No," she gasps, trying to push you away. "Please, no."

But her words fall on deaf ears. You're lost in the moment, consumed by the need to claim her as your own.

Part 2 to follow shortly any suggestions