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Writer’s Note: This is a long story. It is conveniently labeled with parts and chapters in case you choose to read it in more than one sitting. This story is a mom/son incest novella that expands greatly on one of the more cliche mom/son scenarios. If you love sexy details and seeing how things succeed or fail in coming together, then this is for you. If you like to-the-point sex stories, then it may not be to your liking. This story contains incest, blackmail, cheating, relationship drama, exhibitionism, hot outfits, filthy dialogue, and a lot of cum.
“Go, Abigail, Go! You got this! C’mon, Abi!”
Screaming and cowbells tore through the brisk April air. Dew was on the hard grass and the breaths from hundreds of desperate hollers condensed into a mist. For over two hours now, thousands of people had been standing along the edge of a swiftly-moving river. Brightly-colored tents and signs stretched along the banks as far as the eye could see. Large canopies with tables inside loaded with food and portable coffee machines were the only refuge from the cold. People continually turned their tired-eyes to the darkening clouds and wondered when the sky would finally open up to unleash freezing rain.
For most people, it would seem to be an unbearable way to spend a Saturday morning. But for parents of high school rowers, such as Heather Gaines, this was so commonplace that they actually looked forward to it.
Every fifteen minutes a new set of racing shells would rigorously glide down the water- the rowers getting sprayed with the splashes of their own oars. Sometimes it would be boats of eight rowers, sometimes boats of four, sometimes boats of two, and there were also singles. It was an exciting sport to watch because the athletes were giving every ounce of energy they could muster with each stroke hoping that they would place well enough to move on in the tournament.
Many parents were lighthearted about the events and just wanted to happily cheer their children on. Some parents, like Heather Gaines, were as competitive during the events as the rowers.
Heather was not so much a yeller or chanter. She was the type to silently stand on the very edge of the bank and mutter comments to herself as she peered through her binoculars. She was not considered the ‘crazy, competitive mom’ on the team by any means, though. Heather’s son, Paul, rowed for an elite private school, and many of the other parents were equally as competitive as Heather. Heather did like to think Paul got his competitiveness from her.
Unlike the other families, The Gaines family was not wealthy, but Paul got to attend the private school for free due to his dad, Richard, being one of the four coaches of the rowing team.
Having been going to team practices since he was in middle school so he could fill in on boats for older students who were injured or absent, Paul was now an elite high-school rower. More importantly, he was in his senior year and he had not yet committed to a college scholarship. He had plenty of offers, but his heart was set on Princeton.
This made this an important weekend.
For the last three years, Paul had been part of the varsity-eight boat, which was the most prestigious boat in high school rowing. While five other rowers in his boat had already gotten scholarships to Ivy-League colleges, Paul had not. This not only bothered Heather because her son was not going to get the best education possible, but she had to endure the passive-aggressive and condescending statements from other moms on the team:
“That’s okay, I’m sure someone will offer him one as they get more desperate to fill their rosters.”
“Yeah, scholarship agreements collapse all the time. I’m sure if things fall through with other rowers, they’ll eventually give Paul a look. He’ll be fine!”
“My friend told me Cornell might still be looking. But, hey, if they don’t, it’s not like rowing for a state school is that bad.”
It was a frustrating nightmare for someone as competitive as Heather. It was hard for her to bite her lip and not lash out. If she did, the other parents would probably call her jealous. And being part of the ‘poor’ family, Heather did not want her status to fall even lower.
In fact, Heather believed that the only reason parents treated her as one of them was that they thought they could influence her husband through her, along with the special treatment that tends to come with being remarkably attractive.
Positions on the boats were a big deal. Rowers on the ends of the boats were more likely to be sought by college scouts. Parents would always make comments ‘to themselves’ in earshot of Heather:
“We just can’t seem to compete like we used to. I wonder if Charles moved to the front of the boat we would go faster?”
Heather usually rolled her eyes at their lame attempts to jockey for their sons. Besides, Heather clearly was not that influential with her husband. For three avcılar elit escort years, Paul had been in the middle of the varsity boat. Heather constantly asked her husband to move him to the bow or stern. He always gave the same spiel about it being based on times from rowing machine competitions and weight distribution:
“Honey, you have to at least try putting Paul in the bow. We aren’t one of those WASP families that can buy his way into Princeton. They can do that. In fact, I know they’ve done that. They brag about their fucking donation size all the time. You’d think they’d be embarrassed by people knowing they bought their kid in, but they like bragging about their money even more.”
“Babe, you know very well that I do whatever makes the boat go the fastest. I can’t show favoritism. You know my methods for boat positions.”
Those conversations happened again and again for nearly three years. And they always ended with Richard saying he could not be seen as biased and that it was based on weight and rowing times. During those years, those conversations became less frequent as Heather became more skeptical. There were times where Paul and other rowers had fluctuated weights and rowing times, and yet, no change.
It was aggravating to see mothers like Mary and Gretchen gloat about their sons’ placements and how they “lead the boat,” while Heather watched her son perform just as well, and sometimes better.
It had gotten to the point where Heather went to the credit union to see if her husband had been taking payments from the parents. Heather probably would not have even been mad. If Richard had been taking money to help pay for Paul’s books and living costs while at school, Heather might have understood. But there were no such payments.
It was last August, however, when Heather and Richard were driving home from Target and Heather saw a text notification on her husband’s phone, which was propped up on the dashboard to be used as a GPS. It was a message from Gretchen saying, “It’s almost time to open the official rowing season again! I hope you’re excited… I know I am ;)”
To this day, Heather had never mentioned that she saw that message. She was never sure if it had the implication her gut reaction told her it had. It was not weird for her husband to be messaging a parent, but it was weird how quickly he swiped the notification away once he saw it.
Heather was not sure why, but she was comfortable pretending nothing happened. Maybe it was because she knew she was on another level physically than Gretchen so she posed no threat, or maybe because she finally had an explanation for her son’s lack of a scholarship that also helped her to vilify the other mothers she hated.
Either way, whatever conversation Heather wanted to have with her husband could wait until Paul was safely at Princeton- far away from any possible ramifications marital problems could have on his rowing career.
This brings us to this important weekend.
***** Ch. 1
This weekend did not come without a major twist, though. It was the first weekend where Paul would not be on the varsity-eight boat. He was rowing in a single. After being advised by his mom that he would never have a good position on the varsity boat and that he should switch to a single, Paul begged his dad until he gave in.
The other mothers were making even more patronizing comments than usual about how it’s okay that Paul “did not make the boat his senior year”, but Heather kept her mouth shut- just as she had always done. She believed in her son and had faith that he could impress the college scouts in a single.
When it came time for Paul’s first row, Heather focused on the floating starting platform up the river through her binoculars. Her son was there alone, positioning his shell for his time trial. The result of this would affect his seeding and how good of a lane he would get for his first heat.
In his racing shell, Paul was nervous. He shook his arms to keep warm in his skin-tight, polyester unisuit, which was basically thick, stretchy boxers connected to a stretchy tank top. There was a joke that it was designed to make athletes so cold that they would race faster just to be able to put a coat on faster.
Heather could see the back of his brown hair and watched him lean forward and dig his oars into the water. Butterflies were in Heather’s stomach, just as there were every time her son raced. Her toes tapped and she waited to see him launch.
And launch he did. Heather’s auburn-red hair floated in mid-air as she jumped in excitement. She was more animated as usual because Paul was cutting through the water like a hot knife through melted butter. It looked like his best race yet.
It was not long before Paul passed Heather on the bank, close to the finish line. It seemed that he was running out of steam, but he was still in great position. Heather watched his powerful body avcılar escort crank the oars and exhale loudly with each stroke.
Heather normally looked up at the electronic clock to check his times, but she was feeling almost cocky about his performance and felt she did not need to. She grinned in the direction of her son and then turned to the other mothers to see their reactions. They gave a mixture of nonchalance and patronizing grins. But Heather could see they were stewing.
Paul had to row back to the exit dock and put his shell away. It was about half-an-hour later that Paul walked over to his team’s canopy and headquarters.
“Third!” He exclaimed upon seeing his mom. “I should have the best lane in my heat!”
Heather proudly cheered and warmly embraced her son. It was moments like these where Heather realized how proud she was of Paul. He was now 5 inches taller than her 5’6″ stature, and he had the maturity of someone that spent a lot of time with older people when growing up. “I’m so proud of you. You were amazing out there.”
“Thanks! Dad said I might have went too hard at the start, but it went well overall,” Paul said, still hugging his mom.
Heather could see the goosebumps on her son’s arms and rubbed her jacket sleeves over them. “You need to get a jacket on, mister.”
Paul nodded but did not let go yet. Heather suddenly remembered she should have ended the hug earlier, so she abruptly ended it. It may have seemed odd to those watching, so Heather quipped, “Alright, I’m not holding you up anymore. Go get a jacket and some food. You need it!”
Her son agreed and went over to the food tables.
As happy as Heather had been, she had suddenly been sent into a dark place. These dark moments happened only once every couple of months. In her moment of pride and enthusiasm from the race, she had made a mistake with Paul. She had triggered herself, and she knew what was coming. She knew she would have to suffer through a long moment of feeling as if she was going to recreate a problem that had long passed. It never got any easier to deal with.
***** Ch. 2
Every time one of these moments of panic struck Heather, the events flashed through her mind like a film reel. Her mind went to Paul’s 18th-birthday party. It was a surprise party. Though it was not a surprise for Paul, rather one for Heather.
Rich and Heather had to go away for the weekend to visit Rich’s cousin in the hospital after she had gotten seriously ill. And plus, they figured they could turn the nights into a romantic getaway in a hotel.
But despite ordering Paul again and again not to throw a party in the empty house, they simply knew he was going to throw one. Fearing the neighbors to call the police, Rich and Heather decided it would be clever for Heather to drive back on Saturday evening and make sure Paul could not invite a bunch of people over to drink tons of beer.
When Heather got back to the house, however, there was no sign of any party. In fact, there was no sign of Paul. Heather did not text him. She figured that if he never knew she came home, then he would never know that his parents did not trust him.
Heather remembered how she waited around the house for two hours all alone before being certain he was not throwing a party at the house. She changed out of her blouse and jeans and put on more comfortable clothes. Having had expected a romantic evening with Rich, Heather found herself craving sexual satisfaction. “I need to fucking cum,” she said aloud to herself, grinning.
Alone in her house, Heather hurried up to her bedroom and took her pink vibrator out of her nightstand. She quickly yanked her shapely yoga pants down her thighs and began touching the vibrating toy to her vaginal lips. She moaned instantly.
Heather allowed herself to see how much of a dirty and insatiable mood she could get herself into. It was not long before the vibrator was glistening. She dashed to her nightstand again and reached for her other sex toy- the one her husband did not know about. She grasped the long, beige dildo in her hand and bit her lip.
Then, as she had done a couple of times before, Heather sprinted to the spare bedroom with her vibrator and her suction-cup dildo. She stuck the dildo on the one plastic chair in the house that worked perfectly for her activity. With a thunderous moan, Heather’s flooding pussy opened up and lubricated its way down the erect shaft. She began riding up and down on the dildo while she used her vibrator to stimulate her clit and outer lips.
It was such an incredible pleasure that her face was hot, her vision was hazy, and she zoned out to the sound of the intense vibrations. At that point, Heather was just seeing how much she could build herself up before climaxing.
The next memory was one that made Heather shutter every single time. Without warning, the door, which she did not close all the way, swung open. And there stood Paul, a canned avcılar eve gelen escort beer in each hand, looking around as if he was trying to see who was drilling or sawing in the guest room.
Heather could never forget the look on his face, and she was sure he would never forget the look on hers. Her son was frozen. His jaw literally dropped down. His eyes were saucers. There is nothing you can say when you walk into a room to see your mom naked from the waist down and sliding down the shaft of a sex toy.
To Heather’s horror, she watched as her son’s erection grew in his shorts. Looking back on it, she could not blame him. Heather knew she was hot. She had always been told so. Her red hair, tanned ceramic skin, fit body, melon breasts, and thick thighs and ass were subject to a lot of attention over the years, even as she hit 40. And there she was, in nothing but a thin white v-neck, her red hair sticking to her sweaty skin, and two sex toys stimulating her glistening mound. It was a natural reaction for a drunk teenager.
In total, it was over 30 seconds before Heather finally wrapped her head around the situation enough to yell, “Go! Get out!”
Heather did know how she did not hear either of the two SUVs full of rowdy high-schoolers pull into the driveway. All she could think of was how she was never going to mention it to anyone again, and how she was not going to leave the guest room until the morning.
In the morning, Heather had hoped it would be the end of it. She hoped that her son, too, would just pretend that it did not happen. She could tell he was trying, but his hangover probably made his ogling glances more noticeable than he was imagining.
His attention was uncomfortable and stressful. Heather remembered making an urgent call to her friend where she suggested they set their kids up together for a date so they could “get them out of the house more.” The friend thought it was a fun idea, and only after a week of Heather being stared at longingly by her son, she found relief in her son starting a new relationship.
The relationship did not last long, but during that time, and since then, Paul had not looked at her sexually.
***** Ch. 3
Heather snapped back to the present. She reassured herself that as long as she did nothing stupid like letting her son see her half-naked again with her chest heaving out of her top again, she would be fine. Heather was a pro at letting bad things go. She had been convinced through experience that trying to combat a potentially-explosive situation just made things worse. And this situation with her son was an example of how a problem was able to be solved without having to risk digging into it. The panic had passed, and she was able to continue her day.
***** Ch. 4
The day went on. And after the rain showers, the sun appeared and it felt like Spring. Heather and the other parents watched the rowers. Richard was down near the dock and boats so he could coach the rowers before their races.
Paul’s first heat was in two hours, and he had left to go up the river bank so he could stretch out. Whenever Paul left to go to the boat area, Heather was always nervous. It meant the clock was winding down to race time, and the anticipation was anxiety-inducing. Today was especially bad because this weekend determined who would go to Nationals and get the chance to really impress collegiate coaches.
Each minute passed slowly. Heather occupied herself by bouncing on her toes for warmth and watching the current races.
One of the other mothers saw she was anxious and said, “You don’t have to be so nervous, Heather. I’m sure your boy will do fine. He’s not in the heat with the best rowers, so if he gives it his all then he’ll probably make it out of this round.”
“Thank you,” Heather forced a smile, her teeth clenched.
About 45 minutes before the race, and only 25 minutes before Paul had to have his shell in the water so he could row to the starting platform, Heather felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Even if it was just a spam marketing message, she welcomed the distraction.
Unfortunately, it was not spam. It was a text from her husband. “Have you seen Paul? He should be here warming up already.”
Confusion swept over Heather because Paul announced earlier he was going to warm up, and he left. Heather’s mother’s intuition kicked in and she began fearing something had happened to her son. Heather called him three times in a row with no answer.
Rowers filtered in and out of the canopy all day long, so Heather frantically asked each one if they had seen Paul. Finally, Mary’s son, Dylan, approached the tent. When Heather asked him where Paul was, Dylan shrugged, “He says he’s not rowing.”
“What?!” Heather was confused and angry.
“Yeah, he said he just can’t go out there.”
Before Heather could ask more questions, Mary piped up to say, with fake sincerity, “Aww, that’s a shame. I’m sorry, Heather. You know, some people just can’t handle the pressure. Though, I guess it’s better you find out now than at Nationals in front of those coaches.”
Heather whipped her head around with death in her eyes. Mary shrunk in her chair because even she knew she had gone too far. Her fists in a ball, Heather demanded of Dylan, “Tell me where he is.”
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