Law, Order, and Incest

Mom was home. In a house of fitness buffs, you recognized the heaviness of the weights from their clangs. Normally, Damien would take his shirt off and rush to join her to make sure she didn’t slack off on her stretching.


Every girl at Hepburn Fields High fawned over the muscular student-athlete, but once that bell rang, their rolled-up skirts and unbuttoned shirts had no effect on him. Damien was going straight home in the rare case a certain busty, silver-hair goddess took a break from her relentless pursuit of justice and needed a spotter. When you’re Anna Smith, chief of police of the worst district of Bay City, triple shifts are just called shifts. The fact that she still found the energy for workouts had always inspired Damien to push his limits.


The sound of his mother’s training had made Damien forget this clusterfuck of a day but his bruised rip and scraped up back reminded him, when attempting to take off his shirt, that today, for the first time, he should avoid his mom. He fought against invisible forces to take his steps to the guest bathroom instead of the basement gym, and his reflection in the mirror confirmed that he made the right choice. “You fucked up,” the dirty, red-eyed young man on the other side of the glass told him.


Most of the blood on his shirt wasn’t his. His back felt like it still had gravel indented in it, but the bulk of the red stain was from the other guy’s busted nose. After carefully and painfully peeling it off his torso, Damien hid the evidence in the last place his mom would ever look: the washing machine. He noticed the dirty police uniform in the hamper. That was Anna’s way of asking him to do her laundry. He didn’t mind at all; Anna had proved herself the alpha of their family and he never passed up a chance to handle her unmentionables.


The blue high leg thong was part of the cop uniform; its string waistband had to stick out of the tight leather pants. The midriff-baring shirt looked more traditional, at least on most officers, but his mom’s double D’s always had the cleavage buttons ready to pop. You could thank the mayor for wanting police officers to disarm hooligans with their feminine wiles. That man was truly desperate for re-election.


He should have headed to his room and quietly masturbated into his mom’s panties, but the siren song of the elliptical machine was too much for him to resist. Maybe just a peek…


Damien carefully put on a hoodie over his scratched up back and pulled the hood over his messy brown hair before threading the creaky stairs. The sight of Anna’s cheeky micro-shorts showing her buttocks rubbing each other on the cross-trainer made the day’s worries a distant memory. From the back, her gray hair was the only badge of her MILF status, because she had the booty of an Olympian half her age.


The son was so entranced that he did not notice the elliptical machine winding down.


“Damien!” His mom was out of breath but still ran to her son. Damien’s eyes couldn’t agree on whether to look at the bouncing titties the thin camisole was struggling to contain or the pronounced camel-toe on the other side of the toned abdominal bridge.


“Are you OK? What happened?” she asked. Of course she saw through his fake smile. She could probably even smell the worry on him.


“Sarah broke up with me,” he finally said after thinking about it for way too long. Sarah did exist. She was one of the many short-lived girlfriends that didn’t manage to satisfy him. He broke up with her weeks ago but it’s the first name that popped into his mind for this deception.


“Oh sweetie…” she pressed her massive bumpers against his chest and her crotch discovered his erection. They had a ‘don’t worry about it’ policy when it came to Damien getting hard from their healthy flirtatious interactions.


“Listen, Damien. I know I’m not often here for you, but don’t think for a second that you’re ever alone, OK? I think about you all the time. And girlfriends will come and go but I’ll always love you, always. Got it?” Anna held her son’s head straight to force a staring contest.


The Smith household had three home invasions in recent memory (that’s Bay City for you). Each ended with the robber zip-tied on the floor, begging for his life through a mouth full of missing teeth. No, wait, that’s not true; the last one didn’t beg because he had his own sawed-off stuffed down his throat. All this to say that when a woman like that shares her tender side, you treasure that moment. And you feel like a piece of shit if it’s based on a lie.


Anna buried her son’s face in her sweaty chest. “Why don’t you run us a bath? I’ll give you a long, relaxing massage and make you forget all about… what’s her name again?”


Damien tried to say something, smothered between two soft pillows. Anna pushed him deeper. “I was joking, honey. Make it nice and warm, I’ll join you after my cooldown.”


Once released, a dazed Damien shambled to the stairway. Anna’s compassionate smile turned into a grin of satisfaction once her son turned his back to her. She didn’t like to see her son in pain, but mommy did like her post-workout snacks.



Damien did as he was told, a bad habit that might be responsible for digging himself so deep into trouble. The days he came back from school to an empty home, his frustration took him to the wrong bars where he seduced the wrong men’s wives. When you make enemies of Bay City’s elites, the only people you can turn to are the scumbags his mom dedicated her life to fight.


Despite the terrible timing, there was no way he would ever turn down sharing a bath with his mom. He could barely remember the last time he washed her back in the soapy water. Their relationship was… particular, sure, but it never felt wrong.


He strained to look at his back in the larger mirror of the bathroom connected to the master bedroom. It didn’t look as bad as it hurt, but it was too late to say he fell off his bike after committing to the ‘Sarah left me’ narrative. If he waited for her in the bathtub, back against the wall, he could probably get away with it. So, with a hiss of pain, he pressed his back against half-cold wall tiles, half scolding, rising bathwater and waited. The echoes of the pleading voice of the poor man he beat up today were no match for the mental image of his mom sliding out of a silky bathrobe to sit on his cock.


“Mmmm looks like you’re already ready for me.” Anna had silently entered the bathroom still in her gym clothes with a towel around her neck. Damien hoped she was talking about him already being in the bath, not his giant erection sticking out of the water like the mast of a sunken ship.





Anna kept an eye on her son’s cock through the mirror. She had a bit of an obsession with the thing ever since it grew bigger than his father’s. She had it mostly under control, though; Damien didn’t suspect she was anything but a caring mother with boundary issues. Still, she cultivated his lust for her whenever she could to harvest the literal seed when the occasion presented itself. The only vacation she had ever taken was for the 6 weeks after Damien broke his arm. Her poor little big man couldn’t relieve his stress, so she helped him out 2,3…4 times a day.


Her toned muscles flexed as she did a hip-swaying dance to remove her tight yoga shorts off of her slim waist before pushing them down to the ceramic floor, plucking bunched up fabric out of the tight crack of her booty. With no hesitation or modesty, she turned around and flashed her freshly shaved snatch at her son, pussy lips puckered by her strong thighs. Damien averted his gaze and pretended to look at a particularly interesting tile on the wall.


“Oh sweetie, that’s way too much water for two.” Anna put a toned leg in the tub and bent down to pull the bathtub plug. She was right, Damien realized. When Anna’s tits dipped into the bath and drenched her camisole, the water level rose near the edge of the bath. Speaking of rising, Damien’s mother was in front of the particularly interesting tile, so there was no escaping the sight of a waxed butthole and wet shirt wrapping her dangling breasts in white like a marble statue.


She was done draining the tub, and ready to drain something else.


“There we go.” With the water down to a reasonable level, Anna turned around and crawled toward him. Her soaked bralette not only highlighted the shape of her melons, it revealed the darker areolas and the bump of their nipples. The unspoken rule of ignoring erections was in effect but she had to climb over the stiff cock to find a comfortable position, nestled against her son’s chest. She pretended to yawn then melted in his arms, sinking her butt down until her vulva pinched the submerged base of the big stick tight in her thigh gap.


Damien didn’t intend on making things lewd, but the simple act of hugging his mom so she wouldn’t get cold led to the inevitable squishing of her jogging partners under his arms. He hoped she couldn’t feel his cock twitching between her legs.


She could.


Anna wrapped her own arms over his. “We should do this more often. It’s so relaxing,” she said, squirting a hefty amount of hand lotion in her hand. Oily palms found their target on the helmet of the big soldier standing at attention within arms’ reach. It fascinated her to handle man meat that she couldn’t fully wrap a hand around.




“I promised you a massage, my love. The best way to get over an ex is to let someone remind you that she’s not the only girl in the world who can please you. Close your eyes and imagine that I’m another pretty girl from school. Pretend these are her breasts…” While keeping up the massage with one hand Anna used the other to free her boobs from the transparent top then guide her son’s hand to their soft, wet skin.


Damien’s other hand got jealous and joined in on the rubbing. There was no point imagining being with anyone else, no one at school had breasts like these. Anna had assumed as much.


“What would she say? She’d probably say: oh, Damien, your cock is so big. I can’t believe Jessica broke up with a hunk like you.” Anna was drawing circles with her thumb on her son’s bulky cockhead. Her other hand was deeper in the water, gently caressing the submerged ball sack.


“Mom, stop, I’m going to…”


“What? You think she’d sound more like this?” Anna put on an overly sensual voice and sprinkled her speech with moans. She was no longer pretending to be anyone else. “Mmmm, Damien, your balls are so full. You poor thing. Don’t worry, Mommy is here now.” She realized she broke the fantasy game but didn’t care at this point; her precious boy was ejaculating in her cupped hands and she joined him in a mind-melting orgasm that could only happen with such a strong bond of love.


“Anna, are you home?” That was her husband’s voice. A surge of adrenaline shook Damien off his post-coitus daze, and he pulled his hands away from his mom’s tits, leaving as evidence red marks where he squeezed the hardest.


Anna slurped and swallowed the cum in her hands and quickly sucked what was left off her fingers before stretching her wet shirt back over her breasts. The erect nipples threatened to pierce through the thin fabric.


“I’m in here, honey!” she said.


A friendly, bearded face poked his head through the door. At the very last second, Anna pushed down on the softening cock to hide it between her thighs. Damien’s dad looked a bit confused seeing his grown-up son in the bath with his wife, so Anna explained: “Damien broke up with Sarah today. I wanted to relax with him while he told me all about what happened.”


“Aww shucks, son. I’m sorry to hear that. Well, you both deserve some R&R, that’s for sure,” his dad said. “Whenever you’re ready, there’s warm lasagna in the oven,” he continued before closing the door.


“Thanks, dad.”

“Thanks, honey.”


Anna let go of Damien’s cock which sprung back up, splashing water in her face. She had been rubbing it underwater during the exchange with his father, so this was bound to happen.


“How about we continue the massage in bed before we turn into prunes, huh?”


Damien, still pumped with adrenaline from his dad’s impromptu visit, was suddenly reunited with the sting of his bruised back that he had been hiding from his mother so far. She was such a shrewd detective, that he imagined she could correlate the wound pattern with a struggle and his attempt at hiding it with gang-related activities.


But Damien forgot about it all again. A well-built booty was inches from his face, glistening from the hand lotion that soaped up the water. Anna stepped out of the bath and set her boobs free of the wet rag for good. She teased him with a long stretch before heading to the attached bedroom with the only bath towel available.


“Don’t bother putting your clothes back on,” she told him, nay, ordered him.




A hand towel is a poor substitute when you have a cock this size and a new erection you cannot mentally shake off. Damien leaned to look through the open door, and saw his mom sitting on the bed, wearing the short, silky bathrobe he imagined her in earlier. It was loosely tied with an overhand knot and any sudden movement would have it slide open. The towel had been laid out at the edge of the bed to define the massage area.


Mindful of keeping his back facing away from his mom, Damien climbed on the bed and laid face-up on the towel. It was embarrassing to choose the side that exposed the family-size tent he was pitching under the tiny cloth, but the classic face-down massage was not an option in his current predicament.


Anna was happy with his decision. She kneeled by the bed and clumsily massaged his legs as a symbolic gesture for a few seconds. All she really wanted was to unwrap her gift. Her elbow ‘accidentally’ knocked the small towel off the towering cock and she coincidentally decided at that moment that Damien’s legs had been sufficiently relaxed. He was reminded of the time he broke his arm. The best month of his life. He still had wet dreams about her perfect titjobs.


It was nice to feel the warm embrace of his mother’s bosom on his shaft once again. They were a little cold from the bathwater meeting the air but warming up fast as they rubbed the cock up and down while also kneading it like trying to shape a clay sculpture. Something wet… a tongue… the tip of a tongue poked his dick hole. She had never gone that far before.


He was just about to explode straight into his mom’s mouth when the sound of a police siren jerked him out of this wonderful waking wet dream. Right, that was his mother’s ringtone.


His cock went unattended for a few seconds while Anna scrambled for her phone. She came back in force, dropping all pretense of a massage and jumping straight into a deepthroat. She was multitasking the blowjob and the phone conversation, knowing she’d soon had to leave; there was no good news in Bay City.


“Smith, mmpf, slurp, slurp,” she said, talking with her mouth full. “Shit, glug, gag. Why didn’t you wait for backup?”

Damien didn’t last longer than the call…

Don’t engage. Gulp, gulp, gulp, I’ll be right there.” Anna hung up.

“I gotta go, my love,” she said, before siphoning his urethra of the last few drops of his load. “Did you wash my uniform?”


Damien had a hard time landing back on Earth, but he eventually summoned the memory of starting the laundry with his blood-stained shirt and the leather pants. “I started the load but didn’t get a chance to put it in the dryer.”


“Damn, I’ll have to wear my dress uniform.”


It took a while for Damien to notice his own phone ringing in the pocket of his discarded jeans in the bathroom. He was watching his mom’s breasts bounce as she rushed herself into a tight, extra-short skirt. But the second the melody reached his brain, he ran in there naked to answer. His phone never rang for good news either. Not since inadvertently joining the Hellhounds.


“Smith, where the fuck are you?” his boss said before Damien had a chance to say hello. “There’s a cute mix-breed piglet roaming around the compound. My guys wanted to let the dog have some fun, but then I remembered you didn’t get initiated yet. Normally, you have to bring your own sweet and sour pork, but I’ll throw you a bone ‘cause I like you so much. Don’t insult my generosity. Get your ass here ASAP.”


The line cut without Damien having said a word. Kidnap a Bay City cop and publicly and sexually humiliate her… every member had to make this happen to prove themselves worthy. He was in too deep and knew too much already; it was join-or-die for him at this point and he had been putting off this initiation trial for long enough to arise suspicion. His identity as the son of a chief of police had not been uncovered yet. He knew this because he wasn’t currently strung upside down under a pack of ravenous dogs while waiting for the ransom money to arrive. This was not an opportunity he could afford to ignore.


‘What a shitty situation’, he thought. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, let alone a cop. He knew how hard his mom’s girls worked to protect this city. She died a little bit inside every time a video of a new initiation was sent to the station. “Fuck! Mom!”


Damien had finally put the two phone calls together. He rushed to the bedroom knowing it was too late; Anna’s police motorcycle was already roaring outside like a blender full of bolts. He reached the window only to see her ride off with her long legs and string underwear exposed under the bunched-up mini skirt.