My first experience of incest was not to know incest was happening at all.
My mother - a good, God-fearing Irish Catholic woman - bathed me right up to the age of 12. It never occurred to me this was odd as I didn't know or ask what was "normal" for my friends. She would wash all of me including my penis and, since I am not circumcised, this would include rolling back my foreskin and washing the glans thoroughly. Quite uncomfortable as it was so sensitive.
This became easier for her as I started to get erections at her handling but she made no mention of the effect she was having on me so, again. I thought this normal. She stopped this bathing routine as soon as my first pubic hairs appeared.
Things changed between us when I was about 13 and I got home late on a Saturday after a day of cycling around adding to my huge collection of American comics.. She was annoyed as she was getting ready to go out with my father and I had made her late. She called me into the bathroom which I entered unaware she was naked in the bath. I had never seen her naked though I had seen her in her underwear which, in those days, was a strong black or white corset, knickers and stockings held up with a garter belt. This was normal for the time ie the late 1960s/early 1970s for a busty woman who felt constricted by pantyhose
She must have thought herself sufficiently covered by water and bubble bath but I was mesmerised by her two huge breasts virtually floating on the top of the water like two pink fleshy islands. She was also wrong about the covering effect of the water as I could clearly see through to her legs and the dark triangle of her cunt.
She must have seen my look so she told me she'd talk to me later, a talk which never happened. I assume she didn't want to revisit those feelings but I had made up my mind to get to see her more often. Obviously I was a virgin & I knew incest was completely taboo but I was already a lapsed Catholic & I reasoned if it made me feel good it couldn't be wrong.
Over the next few years I would make every effort to see her naked and I would listen on the occasions she and my father had sex. I managed to see her undressed and naked quite often, even though my efforts were becoming almost comical in their transparency. I suspect my father was amused enough to tell her not to worry about it. I can imagine him saying "It's natural at his age."
Picture my mother at that age. Medium height, dark brunette and very curvy with a wide face & hazel eyes. She had huge breasts, a small waist and broad hips. She made herself look more balanced by always wearing heels with those stockings.
I would masturbate to the memories of the glimpses I had gained of her naked & in her lingerie. Once or twice I was in a position to do that while looking at her through my bedroom window which looked into the bathroom if she opened its window on a hot day or to let the steam out on a cold one.
Being young I could masturbate for hours and /or masturbate many times a day. I also discovered pocket sized British soft-porn mags and their larger American cousins like SWANK. I added these to my comics collection, hiding them under all the DC & Marvel comics.
When I was 16 I also became aware my mother was having an affair though I never found out who the man was, I believe I once saw him walking with my mother but not close enough to recognise him.. This had the paradoxical effect of making me want to fuck my mother with a heat and urgency that almost frightened me. It became an obsession and my erections & ejaculations became stronger at the thought.
I reasoned that if she was fucking a stranger and had already betrayed my father she was exactly the sort of wonderful whore of whom I dreamed. She could hardly complain if her own son took advantage of her powerful sexuality and luscious body.
However this was all thrown up in the air as my parents suddenly announced they were taking advantage of the Australian Migrant Scheme and we were moving to Sydney. Also known as the £10 Pom Scheme it meant all six of us (my parents and we four children) could take up a new life for just £20 - a bargain and, I suspect, a way my father could move my mother away from her "fancy man".
It wasn't until we had been in Sydney for a year that I got my chance to fuck my mother.
To Be Continued in My Incest Life - How It Started Part Two
