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o                                                     o
o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety o
o of stories. They have been submitted by people from o
o all over the world. Also from alt.sex.stories (News o
o groups). There is no particular order other than    o
o offering them to you in alphabetical directories.   o
o                                                     o
o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not o
o be used for profit without obtaining the author's   o
o permission in advance.                              o
o                                                     o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult  o
o entertainment and should not be read by minors.     o
o                                                     o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

My Son's My Lover and My Comforter
by Jenny Smith (address withheld)

***

The following story is true. Only the names have been 
changed for reasons that are obvious as, pathetically, 
incest is a serious crime in many countries in the 
west. Male-male sodomy is legal, as is woman on woman, 
but female-male sex between family members is not. 
(Mb, pre, ped, inc)

***

Any conversations are as accurate as I can remember 
them.

I live in the south of England, in a small and very 
pretty village across the water from Southampton. I 
was married at the age of sixteen to a much older man. 
He had introduced me to sex when I was just thirteen 
years old, and I soon became dependent on having a 
regular, hard fucking. I couldn't get enough of his 
cock, and became very despondent if I had to go 
without a fuck for three or four days. Despite the 
thirty-year difference in our ages, we loved each 
other deeply. One month before my seventeenth 
birthday, I gave birth by caesarian, because my vagina 
was so tight, to a beautiful baby boy. I could have no 
children after that, but I didn't really mind.

When our son, John, was five years old, his father was 
killed in a car accident. I was devastated. It took me 
more than two years to get over the pain. I had 
started taking my young to my bed at night just to 
have someone to hold close to me. I needed that so 
badly.

One morning, when John was eight years old, he had an 
unusually hard erection. At first I just held it and 
gave it a little rubbing, but as he responded, I 
lowered my head and began sucking on it. I felt quite 
excited as John began to sigh and try to push it all 
the way into my warm mouth. I was absolutely surprised 
when, after only a few minutes, he had a dry orgasm 
that left him shivering and holding me tightly. It was 
unbelievable. 

As I rolled away, I began rubbing my swollen clit, 
which was now on fire. It had been the first time in 
three years that I had felt a cock in my mouth, and I 
needed to come off. John was watching me intently as I 
writhed and moaned when I finally orgasmed. I knew 
then that this was just the beginning.

Naturally, things developed and soon I had taught my 
son how to tongue my clit and bring me off as I sucked 
on his small but stiff cock. For his part, John often 
initiated our mutual sucking and licking, and he 
enjoyed the sixty-nine position as much as I did.

At this stage, I should tell you that I had warned 
John about not talking to others about our sex 
relationship as it could lead to a lot of trouble for 
both of us. This, he fully understood and so I knew 
that we were safe from those who would otherwise 
condemn me and separate us from each other.

A few months went by, with me giving my son a blowjob 
two or three times a week, until the day came when I 
desperately wanted to feel a cock up me.

I rubbed John's cock until it was fully erect, and 
then climbed on top of him.

"Would you like to put your cock in your mother's 
pussy," I asked him, although he didn't fully 
understand.

"Yes please, Mummy," he replied, wondering what it was 
all about.

The only fucks I had had after my husband died were 
with my fingers and, on several occasions, with a 
cucumber, but nothing could ever feel like a warm 
erect cock, no matter its size.

Holding his eight-year-old cock with one hand, I 
placed its small knob against my wet cunt lips and 
pushed down. I hadn't finger fucked myself for more 
than two months, so you can imagine the felling I had 
as his small, rigid cock entered my aching pussy. "I'm 
going to fuck you now, my darling," I told him as I 
began riding up and down his hard shaft. As I said, I 
have a very small, tight vagina and so the sensations 
I was getting from my son's cock were soon driving me 
wild. I fucked him harder and, after only a few 
minutes, I had a shuddering, cunt-contracting orgasm 
that left me exhausted and John excited.

"Can we always do that, Mummy?" he asked me eagerly. 
"I like it when I'm inside you."

Of course we can my little boy," I replied. "Mummy 
needs a cock up her pussy. It's been too long since 
I've had one up me."

I was now almost fully satisfied, with fucking my son 
and having blowjobs on a regular basis. The only thing 
I really lacked was the feeling of a cock jerking off 
inside me and shooting its thick, warm spunk deep 
inside me. It would be two more years before this 
happened, one week after John's eleventh birthday.

It was a Sunday morning, and my son was giving me a 
good hard fuck. His cock had developed a lot since I 
had first played with it, and it could bring me from 
one orgasm to the next as I held him and ground my 
clit into him. Suddenly, he said "Mummy..Mummy..." I 
realized that this time he was going to have a wet 
orgasm, and worked harder to keep his excited cock up 
inside my tight vagina.

"Come, my darling," I urged him. "Shoot all that 
lovely spunk up your mummy's pussy." I could feel the 
head of his cock slamming against my cervix, when it 
happened. With John crying out, I felt jerk after jerk 
of his cock as jets of the spunk I had so long craved 
for filled my burning cunt to the full.

John finally collapsed on me and, as his cock shrunk 
and slid out of me, I could feel his warm fuck-juice 
running down the inside of my thighs. I was in heaven.

From that time on, my son and I fucked two or three 
times a day – sometimes even more. As he got older, 
his cock got longer and thicker. By the time he was 
fifteen it was almost eight inches in length and 
almost two inches across, long and thick enough to 
satisfy any woman. It certainly satisfied me.

I began to encourage him to get girlfriends. At first, 
he was reluctant but by the age of seventeen he was 
like any other boy. At university, he dated a girl 
who, according to one of my son's girl-friends, was 
fucking her father who, coincidently, lived in a 
village not far from my own. Soon, John was in love 
with her, but when he asked her to marry him, she 
declined.

"I know about you and your father," he told her 
gently. But don't worry. I understand. You see, I have 
the same relationship with my mother."

The girl, Francis, looked bewildered and somewhat 
frightened at first, but eventually she overcame her 
nervousness and said, "All right. We can give it a 
try. I think it'll work out. I like you very much and 
I know that you love me."

And so it was. They married three weeks after their 
graduation, and their marriage turned out to be a 
success. 

My son still fucks me at least twice week, and Francis 
still fucks her father. We all enjoy a perfectly 
loving relationship, so why should anyone wish to 
condemn us?