Story Details

Blackmailing Mother: Part I

filmxxxx on Incest Stories

There is, I suspect, a fine line between blackmail and rape. Or, more specifically, blackmailing someone for sex. This line is one I never really suspected I’d cross, and never saw any reason why I should. In general, I consider both of those activities to be shallow, degrading and pathetic. But once in a while an opportunity comes along that begs you to turn your back on your standards and embrace your vices. This was one certainly that opportunity.

            First, a bit of a background. My name is Damon, and I’m nineteen years old. For reasons that I can’t really explain, I’ve always had sexual feelings for my own mother. At times it’s made me feel odd, feeling attracted to the woman that gave birth to me and raised me. But most times it’s just a lustful sensation I have that, despite the excitement of the idea, is something that would never happen. Nor has anything occurred that would make me think otherwise. Nonetheless, it’s a sensation that hasn’t gone away in the past seven or so years I’ve had it.

            One day, for some inexplicable reason, I was let out of work early. This rarely happens, since at my job there always seems to be something to do. However, this day was different, and I got home nearly three hours earlier than expected. Once home, I entered the house and went to my room. As I did so, I heard a slight commotion from the living room. I heard my mother’s voice, as well as a whispering one that was foreign to me, emanating from the front of the house.

            “Mom?” I called out as I walked towards the living room. I instantly thought something was up, and heard my mom begin to speak. I guessed, upon seeing the scenario, that my mom had probably wanted to tell me to hold on, but given the fact that she had been in the living room, that would have instantly caused suspicion. As I rounded the corner and entered the room, I saw my mother standing beside a man I had never seen. Both were fully clothed and nothing else seemed to be out of the ordinary, besides the fact that this man was unknown. After a few moments of awkward silence, my mother began to speak.

            “Hi, Damon. This is Mark.” Mark gave a shallow, semi-frightened wave as if he knew they had been caught. And indeed they had, though I wasn’t sure what of. “He’s an architect. We were discussing the plans for the house.” She didn’t sound convincing, and obviously this wouldn’t have been cause for worry or scrambling when I got home. Despite the severity of the situation (my mother, for some reason, being alone with another man in the living room of our house), I realized there really wasn’t much to be said.

            “Nice to meet you.” I turned and walked out of the house, hearing several seconds of silence behind me before they began to speak again, albeit quietly. I entered my room, not quite sure of what to make of the situation. It was awkward, obviously, and I was curious as to what I should do. I realized quickly that there really wasn’t much to do. What would I say? How would I bring it up? And, really, what business of it was mine? It wasn’t my own father she was (possibly) cheating on. So, I decided to not say anything about it unless my mother brought it up, which I knew would not happen. She had created an alibi and had no real reason to breach it.

            Or so I thought. After a while of being home, I decided to run out and get some errands done. The man had just left, and I told my mom that I was heading out. She looked apprehensive, as if something were on the tip of her tongue. However, she just said okay (after a moment) and I left. I returned several hours later, and my mom was on the couch, reading. I said hello to her, and she instantly closed her book and became attentive. She asked what I had done, and told her where I had gone.

            “Wasn’t much, really,” I said. “Just some errands.” I didn’t want to ask my usual “What have you been up to?” in light of the awkward events earlier in the day.

            “Can you sit down for a minute? I want to talk to you.” She said this calmly, but I knew that she was worried. For some reason, I was very calm. I guess it was because she was the guilty one, and I was the innocent. “I realize that you’re not dumb, and I know that earlier today was obviously not what I said it was.”

            I didn’t know how to go about having this conversation, and whether I should sound sympathetic or concerned, or just passive and understanding. “I kind of figured that it was something else, since I heard you guys scramble once I walked in.”

            She nodded. “Well, this is what happened. You know that your stepfather always works. I’m always alone, and rarely get any attention. This is fine; I know that we’re both busy. But it does get irritating sometimes. I never get any attention anymore. I know this is an awkward conversation to have with you, but you know the attention I’m talking about. We go to dinner and go out occasionally, but that’s it.”

It was at this point that I realized several things. First of all, she must have had sex with this man. She was seemingly coming clean about that, and was explaining herself. She was even talking about things we would never normally talk about. It also occurred to me that I was in a very powerful position. Knowing this, and having caught them together (although not in the act), this confession let me, if desired, demand something.

“I know that it’s wrong, Damon. I do. But I couldn’t help it.” She looked down.

“Where did you meet him?” I remained looking at her, despite the continued awkwardness of the situation.

“I met him at work. Well, he was a friend of someone who works with me. He came to visit, and he eventually asked me out. I was attracted to him, and… I don’t know…” She looked truly shamed. “I’m going to call it off, though. No more. I realize how stupid it was.” This shame only enhanced my thought processes, and my feeling of privy in the situation. “Are you… if your stepfather ever found out about this, it would be horrible. I’d have nothing. If he left me, which he would, then I would be left broke, and with nothing at all.” She almost seemed to be crying, but was only on the verge. She held herself together. “You’re not going to say anything?” She asked this in a pleading way, not really in a questioning one.

“Well, Mom, I mean… Normally I wouldn’t, of course. But this is sort of a big deal, you know?” She nodded as I spoke, more emphatically with each point I made. “You know I would always support you, and do. But cheating on someone really isn’t right.” I stopped, awaiting some sort of plea or response.

“What are you going to do? Or what should I do?” She looked up at me to say this, then back down.

I thought for a moment or, more accurately, paused, knowing already exactly what I’d say. “Well, I don’t think that some sort of punishment is really out of order. He does deserve to know, but I know how bad that could be for you. Or would be.” I paused again. “If I asked you for something, and in exchange agreed to never tell anybody about everything with you and Mark, would you agree to it?”

“It depends on what it is. I mean, I…” She trailed off as she saw the slightly unimpressed look I had, as if she really had no choice in the matter and I knew it. She stopped, rethought and asked, “What is it?”

“I want to have sex with you.” She looked truly shocked at the suggestion, looking up and directly at me, unflinching.

“What?” was all she could get out. Obviously, such a demand was insane, especially given the fact that I was her son. “You want to have sex with me? I’m your mother.” I instantly realized that I didn’t want to get into this conversation. I didn’t want to talk about the wrongness of it, or the awkwardness of it. I wasn’t in the mood to debate about it, either.

“I frankly don’t want to talk about it. Or have a discussion about it. I just want to have sex with you. Tomorrow.” She said nothing, completely unsure of what to say.

“No. Damon, no. We can’t have-“

“Well then I’m going to have to tell him.” I interrupted her, sounding somewhat annoyed. Again, I was not in the mood to discuss the wrong of it, and I also knew that I had to be steadfast and, in a sense, threatening. Not in a violent or malicious manner, but in a manner that explained simply that it was not much of an option for her. I got up after speaking and began to walk out of the room.

“Wait.” She looked at me, then away. I returned to the spot where I had sat but didn’t sit. “ You really want to have sex with me? Why?”

“I told you that I don’t want to have a discussion about it. Tomorrow night, or else I’m going to have to say something.”

“Isn’t there something else? Something I could buy you? Damon, I’m your mother.” She looked up at me as she said this.

“Do you agree or do you not?” I looked at her sternly. She looked down and nodded.

“Fine.” She continued to stare down. “What…what time do you get home? I don’t want… I don’t want your stepfather to come home and…” She trailed off, beginning to cry.

“I’ll be home from work at six. Be waiting for me in your bedroom.” She didn’t say anything else as I left the room. “I’m going out. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She didn’t respond to that, either.

Throughout the next day, it was hard to not think about it. It was also hard to not get excited. But neither were a real possibility. I was so excited to get out of there that the day seemed to drag on for ten hours. But, eventually, six o’clock came and I left work. The drive home was even more exciting, with the anticipation building.

I couldn’t believe it. When I entered my house, I would be minutes away from having sex with my own mother. I knew it was awkward, to be making love to my own mother. The woman who had given birth to me. But I wanted it, and through her own faults, found a way to get it.

I entered the house and walked into my room. I took off my work-shirt and took out my wallet and keys, the way I usually did. After a quick second to stop and breathe (the excitement had peaked), I began to walk down the hall towards my mother’s room. The door was open and the lights were on, as was the television. I walked in, and my mom was sitting on the bed, watching t.v. She was fully clothed, remote in hand, flipping through the channels. She instantly looked up when I entered the room.

            “Hi,” she said.

            “Hey.” I looked at her and then the television. “What are you watching?”

            “Just some drama on T.N.T.” She paused. “Damon, please… is there anything else I can get you? Or do for you? Anything you want? I will do my best to get you whatever you want, but please, Damon-“

            “This is what I want.” I said this sternly.

            “But you’re my son, Damon. I’m your mother! This isn’t natural, nor is it right. It’s disgusting. We’re-“ I again cut her off.

            “Mom, this is what I want. It’s either this or me telling my stepfather. Which is it? I’ll call him right now, if you want.” She looked at me once more, then looked away. I continued to look at her, and began to walk towards her. I turned off the television as I walked, then remembered the door. I walked over to it and began to close it, when my mother spoke once again.

            “Could you not close the door? I just want to be able to hear if… if your stepfather comes home.” I didn’t close the door, and nodded. She sounded, finally, as if she had conceded. I slowly walked over to her until I was directly next to the right side of the bed, where she was sitting Indian style. Both of the lamps were on on either side of the bed, and the room was well lit. She stared down at the floor.

            I looked at her, almost surveying here. She was wearing a green T-shirt and gray sweatpants. Her hair had been brushed earlier in the day, most of it still in order. She didn’t move. Her staring remained resilient. I leaned forward slowly, around her staring face (which was directed towards the floor, her head bowed down a bit) and moved my face towards her neck. I then felt my lips connect with her neck, and I kissed it. Once. I then kissed it again, and after a second used my tongue. I sucked on her neck a bit and heard her sniffle, as if she were crying lightly. I sucked on her neck even harder and then stopped, and moved back to a standing position. I looked at her, and she had still not moved. I raised my left hand to her chest, and placed it on her left breast. I groped it and squeezed it. I massaged it a bit and moved my thumb in an effort to find her nipple, which was not hard and therefore difficult to locate. I moved my hand away again and just stood.

            After a moment I left the room. She looked up for the first time as I did, but I heard her remain on the bed. As I left, I stopped, turned and looked at her. “I’ll be back in one second.” I continued on to my room, and got the camera I had readied the night before and brought it into my mother’s room. I heard her say, “No…” to herself as I set it up. The tape had been rewound, and the camera had been charged. To be safe, though, I plugged it into an outlet. I wanted to film the event. That, I realized, would get me off even more. Having a tape of me having sex with my own mother! A fantasy that had always been just that. Until today. There was also another motive behind it which we’ll come to later. I hit the record button and began again to move towards the bed.

            She looked away again as I got to the bedside. I lifted her chin and looked in her eyes, which were wet with tears. I then, for the first time in my life, moved in and kissed my mother on her lips. I kissed several times, then sucked a bit on her lower lip. I was, in fact, making out with my own mother. I stuck my tongue out, but it hit only her closed lips. I put more pressure on her lips until she reluctantly opened her mouth to house my tongue. I moved my tongue around in her mouth, trying to find hers. I finally did, and licked it. I moved even further into her mouth and began to suck on her tongue. As I did this, I moved my hands to her stomach and slid them up until one hand each was on each breast. I fondled her breasts through her shirt, squeezing them and feeling them up. Our kiss became more passionate, but only at my physical request. I then removed my hands and put one hand behind her head, at the nape of her neck. As the kissing got heavy, I removed my mouth and said, “Undo my belt and pants.”

            I then pressed my mouth against hers and continued to make out with her. After a few seconds, I felt her hands on my belt. She undid the belt, then the button on my jeans. I continued kissing her as she stopped, and I felt her hands disappear. I stopped kissing her. “Undo my zipper and lower my jeans.” I then began kissing the side of her face, lowered myself, and began to again suck on her neck. She did as I asked, but never any more. I continued kissing her neck and lowered my underwear for her. I heard her whimper a bit as I exposed my penis. I searched around for with my hand for hers, and finally found it. I moved it to my extremely erect penis, and put her hand on it. I helped her stroke it for a moment and then removed my hand. She stroked it on her own as I sucked on her neck. After maybe half a minute of this, I realized that the enormity of the situation was going to make me come almost instantly. I removed her hand from my cock and put it back at her side.

            I got off the bed and took off my jeans, then my underwear. I took my shirt off as well, then piled them on the floor next to the bed. “Lay down, Mom.” I looked at her as she lay the length of the bed. Naturally, there was a pause as a precursor. I watched until she had settled, then climbed back on the bed. My penis scraped along her thigh and then on her stomach as I put one leg on each side of her, sitting directly on top of her. “Take off your shirt.” She conceded, however slowly, and did so. She dropped the shirt to the side of the bed. I looked at her chest, her well-sized breasts held by a simple white Hanes bra. Her hands were still at her sides, and I could tell she was horribly nervous. I lowered my face to hers, and again forced my tongue inside her mouth. I kissed her for several moments, licking the inside of her mouth and holding her face as I did so. Then, I lowered myself so that I kissed her neck, sucking on it and massaging it with my lips. I continued down, until my mouth was actually on the top of the left breast of my own mother. I sucked on it, my lips moving over the silkiness, the softness. I stuck out my tongue and used that as a bridge across her chest to her other breast, which I repeated my actions on. After a moment of doing this, I began to fondle her breasts with my hands.

            “Take off your bra.” She sat up a bit, moved her hands behind her back, and unsnapped it. She then took it completely off and dropped it atop her shirt. And there they were. Both of her breasts, completely exposed. Her nipples were hard, the tips thick and meaty. Her breasts didn’t sag as much as I thought they would, holding fast atop her chest. I lowered my mouth and began to suck on her left nipple, tonguing the meaty part and nibbling on it with my teeth. I rubbed her right breast with my right hand, rubbing the nipple with my thumb. I did this for a while, sucking on her nipples and engulfing as much of her tit that I could with my mouth. I spat on her nipples, making them harder, drooling saliva on them and rubbing them together. I licked the nipples once more, then moved my face downwards to the top of her sweatpants. I bit the waist of the sweatpants and lifted them up with my mouth, then let them softly snap back against her waist.

            “Take off your sweatpants.” She closed her eyes, as if wishing that none of this were happening. She glanced over at the camera and leaned up to oblige, but not before asking,

            “Do you have to record it?” She made eye contact with me for the first time, and I sternly said, “Yes. I want to.” She began to cry again as she took her pants off and draped them on the floor. She lay flat, but I put my hands on her ankles and moved them so that her knees were bent and up in the air. I then put my hands on the inside of her thighs and spread her legs. Her panties were a dark blue, the only thing that my mother had on left. Her legs had been shaven either this morning or the day before, but they were still smooth. I took a moment at this juncture to observe what was going on, and to really take it all in.

            I was sitting at the end of a bed, my mother’s bed, completely naked. My penis was as hard as it had ever been. My mother, my own mother, was lying in front of me, the only piece of clothing on her being a blue pair of panties, a pair of panties that I had many times before borrowed from the pantry and smelled, burying my nostrils in the base of them. Smelling my mother’s vaginal scent, licking any dried juices that were on them. My mother’s breasts were out, her nipples hard and wet from my very own licking. Her neck was a bit red from my sucking. But now, at this point, was when the true ecstasy would begin. My penis was already slick with precum from the proceedings, but got even more moist as I realized what the next step would be. I lowered my face towards her panties, and her hands instantly moved over them. She covered her vagina with both of her hands, looking up and making eye contact with me again. She whimpered, still crying a bit, and whispered, “Please. Damon, please…”

            I lowered my face even closer, removed her hands, and looked at her dark blue panties. I couldn’t believe it. I lowered my face even more until my lips rested on her panties, and released my tongue. I moved my tongue down to where her lips were, and licked. I then lowered my face a bit more and inhaled deeply, taking in the natural, in-person scent of my mother’s vagina. It was a bit wet, I could tell, but only because of the physical contact. I assumed both her nervousness and her uncomfortable feelings made her rather not aroused. After a surprisingly short time of this, I decided that I wanted it. I wanted all of her clothes off. “Take off your panties.” She was crying now, but leaned down to oblige. She did this quick, almost in anger, and threw them against the wall. She lay back down. She was conceding, but was upset about it and couldn’t believe the situation, either. And I could understand why. She was completely naked in front of her own son, whose penis was hard and wet, her own breasts exposed, her vagina unclothed. She was spread eagle in front of her own son, her legs slightly raised with her knees bent in the air.

            I looked at her vagina before making a single move. I wanted to let it all sink in. I wanted, most of all (apart from appreciating the situation alone) to look at a beautiful portrait that I had only dreamt of seeing for years. A view that I never thought I would be able to see. My mother, completely naked in front of me. Her vagina, covered in dark pubic hair, staring at me, her legs pulled apart to accentuate the view. Her breasts revealed, her nipples pointing to the ceiling. Her naked body. And, even better than the view, was that in this particular scenario, unlike anything I could ever have imagined happening, she was mine for the taking. My own mother, mine to have sex with, any way I pleased.

            I lowered my face slowly towards her vagina. I passed her knees, and continued going until my face was an inch or so above her lips. I then pressed down and buried my face in it. My nose touched the top of her clit, and I repositioned so that my mouth was in the same position. I let her clit fall into my mouth, and I closed my lips and began to suck. Several of her dark pubes also fell into my mouth, and I sucked even harder. I could hear my mom crying now as I nibbled on her clitoris, the meat swelling in my mouth as I licked. The scent was a strong as ever, the same scent that I had only sniffed on her underwear. My entire face was covered with her vagina, her pubes covering my nose, eyes and some of my forehead. I continued to suck on her clit, then let it loose and began to lick it. I lowered my face even more so that I was licking the entry, as well as her lips and her clit, up until the top of her slit. I did this several times in a very slow motion, starting at the hole and moving upwards to the top. Then, I began to do it faster, almost wildly, as I licked all of it, taking it in. I went even lower, and as I did so used both of my hands to spread her asscheeks a bit, and then began at her asshole and went all the way up. She flinched at this, as if this had never been done before. I lapped at her anus and cunt, drooling on it as I went. I paused from the licking as I shoved my tongue into her vagina, a few centimeters at first, then the whole thing. I licked up once my tongue was inside her, keeping it in and licking the walls of her vagina. I pulled out a little bit and spat on her vagina, then continued licking it. I was worried, albeit momentarily, that I would come in several seconds. I took a moment to gather myself, and to distract myself, so that this would not be a problem. But it was all nearly too much: licking my mothers vagina and asshole, slobbering onto all of it as I pleased, doing anything I wanted.

            After several moments of this I stopped, and raised my head. My cock, although covered nearly completely in precum, was still rock solid. I raised my body so it was more parallel with hers, and placed my mouth again over her nipple. I sucked on it as I lowered my left hand (my mouth on her right nipple) and fingered her. She was wet, if only from the natural lubrication and my mouth (it was hard to believe she was turned on; I was her own son and she was still crying a bit.) I used one finger, spreading her lips and penetrating as deeply as I could. Then, I inserted a second finger. I did this for several moments, removed my fingers and my mouth, and positioned my penis above her cunt. I looked in her eyes, and she looked directly into mine. Before anything else happened, she spoke.

            “Please, Damon, please put on a condom if you’re going to…” She trailed off, crying. “If you’re going to put it in me, please put on a condom. I-“

            “That’s not my problem,” I said, still looking directly at her.

            “But I could get pregnant. I don’t want to get pregnant with the child of my own son…” I shook my head.

            “I’m sorry, but that’s not my problem to deal with.” Her eyes welled up again as I lowered myself even further. Finally, the tip of my penis was directly on the outside of her vagina.

            “Please, Damon, I don’t want to get pregnant… I can’t…” I ignored her, and lowered myself into her. I went slow, then continued in until my entire penis was inside of her. Between my spit, her natural lubrication and the precum on my dick, it slid in relatively easily. She wept now, as I slid out of her a bit, then back in. I did this slowly at first, then got a good pace going. I couldn’t believe it, but I was fucking my own mother. I was fucking her raw, my penis sliding in and out of her, her lips rubbing against my dick. I pumped, harder and faster, feeling the friction of her vagina against me, her body pulsating a bit as I nailed her. Every so often I would slow down and shove myself completely in her and stay there, feeling my penis almost vibrating with the threat of ejaculating. I slowed, then continued to slide in and out. I was holding myself up with both arms as I fucked her, then decided to rest on her and use my hands to grope her breasts. I did so, kissing her on the lips as I flicked her nipples. I continued pumping, in and out, going hard and fast. “Please don’t come inside me.” I ignored her, continuing to grope her breasts and fuck her. I sucked on her neck, hard, knowing that I was running the risk of leaving a mark. This would be bad, because it would nullify my future plans that the video had in play. So I decided to stop sucking her neck and continue kissing her mouth.

            Finally, I felt that I could no longer hold it. I kept pumping until eventually I came, moaning and pumping hard into her. I could hear her whisper “no,” as if she knew I was ejaculating. I filled her walls with my semen, pumping harder and harder into her, giving her every last drop of semen I had in me. As I nearly finished, I pulled out and came a bit on her pubes, just so I could see some of my seed draped over her dark hair surrounding her vagina. I jacked myself off to completion, until no more came out of me. I remained hunched over, my hand grasped around my cock, staring at the semen all over her vagina. She was crying fully now, putting her hands over her face and weeping incessantly. “Are you happy now? Are we done? Can we stop?” she asked through her fingers.

            I looked up at her. “Turn over on your stomach.” She, still crying, shook her head. I repeated myself. “Turn over on your stomach.” She did so, still covering her face. I bent down a bit and spread her asscheeks. I glanced at her anus, which was surrounded by hair. I licked it, sucking a bit on her asshole hairs and then tonguing her asshole. I spat on it, then licked it some more. Her crying, however, became near-howling. I decided to stop.

            “Alright, we’re done.” I got up and walked over to the camera and turned it off. “Clean yourself up and clean off the bed. I’m going to go shower.” I picked up the camera and the tripod and left the room, retreating back to my own. I closed the door, took the tape out and put in safely in a drawer. What my mother didn’t know was that this tape was my key to any exploitation I desired. No matter what happened, I could threaten to have this tape shown anywhere I pleased. Therefore, anything I wanted was mine. But I wouldn’t ask for money. Nor would I ask for things. I would ask for sex. Any kind of sex I wanted. Anywhere, anytime. And what would be more damaging to her than her husband finding out that she had cheated on him? Anybody finding out that she had sex with her own son.

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