Confessions Of An Incestaholic – Series 1 Episode 1

When I say “I love my girlfriend” and “I love my mom”, what is the difference? Is love just affection? Or is it affection plus lust? What is love exactly? When we say the phrase “to make love”, does it mean just the act of human coitus or does it mean the union between two soul mates? Isn’t love then being used in many different connotations leading to confusion. You have sex with your wife, it is ‘love’. You have sex with your mom, it is ‘incest’. Why the discrimination? Because no one knows the exact definition of love.

Well, I don’t claim to have a definition in mind though I am definitely in search of one. But there is one point I would like to bring to light.

Historically, incest was the way progeny was created. Kings married their sisters to provide the throne, an heir of pure royal blood. But inbreeding led to a fall in gene differences resulting in children born with disabilities. As civilization learnt, doctors advised against inbreeding.

Hence, the act of making love between blood relatives for the purpose of having a child was discontinued. But as time progressed, this practice soon assumed the characteristics of an evil act (like many other superstitions). Having sex with relative only for the purpose of having a baby was what the doctors advised against. But with time, having sex with your relative for any purpose be it to satisfy a basic human need or for entertainment too began to be considered taboo.

‘Making love’ and ‘human relations’ are two independent subjects. If you make love with a person who is your close relative, it is the same as making love with a person who is not your close relative. Whether you have sex with your wife, friend, or mother, it does not matter. It has not been practiced for a few centuries now only because of a scientific reason. It is perfectly normal to have sex with your mom or aunt as long as it is not to have a baby. The veil of social unacceptance that incest has been covered with is only a creation of few morons who never had the chance to appreciate beauty and experience love within their families.

With this realization, I have decided to come out of my shell. Through this platform of ISS, I will begin to document my journey so far with incest….or rather love.

I am 25 years of age and well educated. My sexual orientation is straight. And I like older women aged especially between 30 to 50 and preferably mothers. The following story, which is also my first on ISS, would be about the woman I love the most on this planet – my mother.

Having always lived away from my mom in a boarding school from a young age, I never knew my mom as any other brought-up-in-home son knows. I would get to meet her few times in a year and that was it. And those few times I met her, she would pamper me a lot (obviously, given the circumstances). So, mom in my mind was more a concept – a very affectionate woman who loved me and was ready to anything I asked her for. And I liked her for that.

As puberty hit, I discovered the new found joys of masturbation. Studying in a boarding school for boys only, I didn’t know any girls in my life. So, I had resort to newspaper clippings of heroines and porn stars or imagine wild fantasies of them in my mind to satisfy myself. Soon this got boring. I needed real life women to think and masturbate upon. Masturbating on celebrities was stupid fantasy. Masturbating on women whom I had met and who knew me was a precursor to reality. There was even a ray of hope it could happen in reality and I would be prepared for it.

The first time I undertook this endeavor, I thought about my beautiful English teacher in my primary school. But I wasn’t satisfied. I had to imagine in my mind, the naked body of my English teacher whom I had seen years ago and through the innocent eyes of a kid. Obviously, I didn’t remember much. I needed someone else.

I then remembered some of my friends’ mothers I had met. They were very pretty and fit perfectly into the kind of women I was fascinated with. But they too couldn’t satisfy me. I ran into the same problem, that of knowing too less about their bodies as I had met them only once or twice.

Time passed by and and the much awaited break came. I was excited I would meet my mother and get to taste the delicious home food she had prepared. As my mom bent over to serve the dishes that day, I noticed her cleavage. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Two fair soft fresh fruits pressed together to form between them – the most fascinating void ever. In its nothingness lied its beauty. And it then dawned on me, my mother was a woman. A middle aged woman. Older than me. A mom. A hot mom in fact. And I knew her in real life. She met all the requirements that I was looking for in a woman to masturbate upon.

I couldn’t concentrate on the meal anymore. My dick began to rise. My mom continued to serve me more and I continued to stare at those beautiful half covered breasts that I had sucked upon as a kid. How I wish I got a chance to do that now!

Once I was back in hostel, I now knew what to do. Everyday, I would religiously masturbate thinking about my mom. Remember I told you ‘mom’ in my mind was a woman who would do anything I asked for. In all the scenes I fantasized about mom when I masturbated, my mom would always be the one bending and listening to every wish of mine. I would imagine her giving me a blow job; me fucking her brains out in doggy style; she talking vulgarly to me while we made love; I giving her a tongue tornado; she moaning and experiencing multiple orgasms. It was the most satisfying thing ever. She being my mom, I knew her body details well enough. The size of her figure, the skin tone, those round soft breasts, plump ass, tempting navel and a curvy hip. It was as if I was fucking a real woman when I masturbated fantasizing about her.

I gradually began to yearn for her more and more. Every time I was home, I would steal glances of her breasts, stare at her ass. Her breasts are the most wonderful thing and my favorite part. I was determined to have sex with her one day but I could never muster the courage to make advances. But the the lack of the physical touch only made me fantasize about her more and more.

And in the following episodes, I will reveal to you (the patient reader), those beautiful wild fantasies. One by one, I shall narrate those acts of ultimate love that I hope will one-day convert to memories.

Confessions Of An Incestaholic – Episode 1