Instinct and Immorality Ch. 05


*** All persons engaged in sex in this story are at least 18.


Mia, 46, mom, sex worker

Rick, 28, Mia’s son

Luxi, 25, sex worker

Roxy, 41, boat pilot, ex-sex worker

Luke, 19, Roxy’s son

Chapter Five

“Maybe you should have paid for dinner?”

“Bullshit, Ricky.”

“But he’s your son, Roxy. You’ve always paid.”

“Yeah, at McDonald’s, when he used to get stuck on that fucking slide.”

Roxy and her son have taken the last step. Their semi-incestuous relationship had been simmering on the backburner for some time, until it finally boiled over last night. And tonight, they celebrated their new romance in a restaurant on the Las Vegas Strip.

And life was beautiful. Until Roxy paid the tab, which led to a fight. Since I am her closest friend, she called me to referee.

“Roxy, what is the big deal?”

Roxy is a forty-one-year-old ex-hooker and does not completely understand the concept that sex doesn’t always require the transfer of fiat currency.

“Ricky, it was more than four hundred bucks.”

“Why did you go to such an expensive restaurant?”

“He suggested it. Then he ordered the fucking lobster, and when the check came, he pushed it toward me. What kind of bullshit is that?”

“You sound like a guy.”

“That’s what assholes do, Ricky. They take advantage of you.”

“He’s your son. He’s genetically programmed to take advantage of you.”

Roxy is my coworker and currently pilots the Lake Mead USBR boat that I do my hydrological research on. And being in such close quarters with her every day, the aggressively extraverted Roxy has told me so many stories about her sex life that they all seem to run together.

Except for the one she told me about her son. And I have never heard such a passionate love between a mother and her son.

But people are people. And good sex always allows us to overlook personality quirks. For about an hour after we orgasm. After that, we all come to the same grim conclusion: “I can’t believe I just fucked that asshole.”

And now that Roxy and Luke are lovers, Luke is no longer just her son. He’s her boyfriend. And as he is about to realize, that’s a demotion. You can get away with a lot of shit being a son. But as a lover, you’ve got about six weeks before they lose the ability to orgasm on your cock. Then they turn on their vibes. And when that vibe goes on, you’re on the clock.

“Roxy, do you love Luke?”

“Of course.”

“Then just let it go. He’s nineteen. He’ll irritate you. It’s called testosterone.”

“I guess, Ricky,” sighed Roxy. “I just wish he was more considerate.”

“You can’t hold him to the same standard as a new boyfriend.”

“You’re right. Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

I knew this was coming. Whenever a woman calls you after ten on a Friday night, she’s looking to hook up. And so far, I have wisely resisted every one of her overtures.

Roxy is an aggressively sexual woman who has done everything you can imagine. And to the untrained eye, women like her might appear to be gold. But women that are compulsively sexual are compulsive in general.

So, she’s a fuck-and-run girl. You fuck her and then you run. And since I’m trapped on a boat with her every day, I don’t fuck her.

“Getting ready to go to bed.”

“Why don’t you come over? I’ll make it worth your drive.”

“With your son there?”

“What’s the big deal? I’ve had men sleep here before.”

“You’re in a different relationship, Roxy. You might just hurt your son’s feelings.”

Just this morning, Roxy was sure that sex with her son solved every problem in her inconsolable romantic life. She had never been happier. The commingling of her maternal and sexual instincts gave her the best sex of her life.

But she might not be able to fuck around like she used to. And she’s not gonna like that.

“Fuck. Alright, I’ll talk to him. How late are you staying up?”

“Going to bed now. Call me tomorrow and let me know how it went.”

* * *

I’m terrified of women, and I blame it all on my mother. Since her most recent friend from prison moved into my house, I don’t even leave my room anymore. I can’t even go to the refrigerator. And if I can’t get to that refrigerator twenty times a night, I might die.

But it was almost midnight, and I had to venture into enemy territory. It was time for my last trip to the frig before jacking off and calling it a night.

Luxi, who was now employed as a sex-worker, had basically set up shop in my kitchen, that is, when she’s not jerking off guys at her place of employment.

And as soon as I stepped into the kitchen, there she was again, sitting at the island, and looking down at her laptop. There were dirty pots and dishes strewn about so randomly that the cockroaches will need GPS to find them all.

“Hi Luxi. Did you just make something?”

As usual, Luxi, in a thin white wifebeater t-shirt and showing off her nipples, wasn’t listening.



For escort izmir some unexplained reason, Luxi has never closed a door in her life. The cabinets and drawers were all open. She also never flushes a toilet after she pisses. I keep holding my breath every time I go into a bathroom, but so far, I haven’t run into any Tootsie Rolls. But tomorrow’s another day.

“Rick, I’m working on the chapter about your mom. Wasn’t she diagnosed as a sex addict?”

Luxi just happens to be writing a book about incest. She always wanted to be a writer and got the idea for the subject matter while she was in prison. It’s an anonymous collection of family sex stories, along with short biographies of the women that starred in them.

But Luxi’s fascination with incest isn’t just passive. She learned all about it from her father. And she is quite obsessed with it.

“Yep. It was after she was arrested for public indecency. The court ordered a psychological evaluation.”

“What did she do?”

“She was in Forest Park, in Queens. She was giving blow jobs near the war memorial. In plain view.”

“The war memorial? Was she hooking?”

“I don’t know. But she loves public sex, so they could just be a few freebees she did for the fun of it. She was ordered to attend a sexual addiction treatment program.”

“Did it help?”

“No. But she did fuck two of the counselors at the rehab center.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“She never told you that?”

“No.” Luxi grinned and continued to type on her laptop. This was going in her book. “What was it like growing up with her?”

“I hardly ever saw my mom until my grandma died. My grandma wouldn’t even allow her in her apartment. She hated my mom.”

Luxi glared at me with raised eyebrow piercings, like she knew something I didn’t know.

“I doubt that.”

“Doubt what?”

“That she hated your mom.”

“How would you know?”

“Didn’t your mom tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She had sex with her mom.”

I laughed. I can’t believe Luxi fell for that one. My mother makes up a lot of shit, and I’m sure this is something she told Luxi to help spice up her incest book. There was no way this was true.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Why does that surprise you? Your grandma was a lesbian, right?”


“But she never had a boyfriend after your grandfather died, right?”

“So what?”

“Well, according to your mom, she was a full-on lesbo.”

“That’s bullshit. You can’t believe my mom with anything she says about my grandma.”

“Relax, Ricky. It’s not the end of the world. So what if they had sex?”

“So what? They’re mother and daughter.”

“Well, you fucked your mom.”

“Yeah, so? I’m a guy.”

“What difference does that make?”

“When did Freud ever say anything about daughters wanting to fuck their moms?”

“That’s because Freud was an idiot. He didn’t talk about it because lesbianism was taboo back then.”

“More taboo than incest?”

“That’s right. Back then, big families lived in small homes. Several people to a bed. Incest was rampant. It was just something everyone did when the lights went out.”

“Maybe, but not mothers and daughters.”

“Oh, really? You’d be surprised how many girls have that urge.”

“For their moms?”


“Come on, Luxi. Mother-daughter sex is just a male fantasy.”

“Oh yeah? You think women are any less incestuous than men?”


“Well, let me tell you, from my experience, they are more. And if they get off on incest, they are always bisexual. Without a doubt.”

Luxi has a lot of theories, particularly about sex. She’s very smart and well-read, albeit a high-school dropout. But I’ve heard one too many of her theories, which are always way out there.

“Bisexuality is a very long way from mother-daughter sex, Luxi. I can guarantee you that my mom and grandma never had sex.”

“Okay, well, if you’re so sure, maybe you should ask your mom about it?”

“Yeah, maybe. Anyway, I’m going to get something to eat and go to bed.”

I could only last about ten minutes in a conversation with Luxi before I had to bail. I opened the frig to retrieve the last slice of pizza that I’ve carefully hidden in the vegetable bin.

But alas, I was too late. She got me again.

“What happened to my pizza?”

“What kind of asshole wraps a piece of pizza in foil and hides it in the vegetable bin?”

* * *

Luxi is completely full of shit. My mom is not the most credible person in the world, especially when it comes to my grandma.

But there was no way they had sex. I mean, I’m guessing that my mom would probably do it. She’s been in prison half her adult life, so she’s been with a lot of women. And she loves women.

But not my grandmother. There is no fucking way.

Besides, they didn’t even speak to each other for as long as I can remember. My grandmother lost a lot of money in one of my mother’s Ponzi schemes, so much so that she took my mom out of her will.

And my frugal grandmother escort izmir was always disparaging my mother’s extravagant lifestyle. My mom once worked as a high-paid prostitute, sporting a Mercedes and an apartment in lower Manhattan.

But as she got older, her lifestyle was not financially sustainable, so she’s been reduced to living with me. And I can always see the pain in her eyes when I tell her I’m going to Walmart and ask if she needs anything.

So the days of hooking for the corporate criminals on Wall Street are long gone. At forty-six, she’s no longer playing the showroom, and now works at the same massage boutique as Luxi. And the guys that go into massage parlors are the same guys that go to Walmart and live with their mothers.

Since mom has moved in, I have become her de facto husband. It feels just like a marriage, albeit a volatile one, and she’s been coming into my room in the early morning hours after she finishes her shift.

And early this morning, I was deep in REM sleep when I felt her crawl into my bed and slide under the covers. As was her habit, she quickly made her presence known by cuddling me.

After a shift, she always wants to be fucked. I was lying on my side, in that imaginary world between sleep and reality, when she pressed her nipples into my chest and gave me a soft peck on my lips.

“Morning, Ricky,” she whispered sweetly.


As she usually does after waking me up, she turned over so her back was to me. I made sure that my morning glory didn’t automatically go up her ass, which it is programmed to do.

I pulled her tightly into my body, squeezing her breasts and pulling her nipples. They get very hard when they are played with, and I love to feel them tighten up.


“Mom. It’s five o’clock.”

She reached back for her usual firmness check. She quickly found my erection, and teased my crown with her fingertips, checking my urethra for dampness.

“You’re leaking, Ricky.”

She just pulled an eight-hour shift at the massage parlor, jerking and sucking guys off, and now she wants to fuck. I don’t know how she can be so excited after all that, but she always is.

I angled my hips and slid my cock into the luscious velvety skin between her butt cheeks. And what an amazing feeling that is. As I pushed it in, I pinched and pulled on her very taut nipples.

“Don’t cum too fast, Ricky.”

That was gonna be tough. I don’t really understand what is going on in my brain when I fuck my mom. I don’t really feel the same kind of love a son normally feels for his mother. But when my cock is inside her, all my resentment for her being an absentee mother no longer matters.

“Son,” she whispered, as I pushed my crown up inside her, closer and closer to her cervix, which gets very swollen during intercourse.


Simple words, but they intensify the reality of committing incest, which has no equal in its ability to arouse us both.

“Pinch mom’s nipples, son. Hard, so I can feel it in my pussy.”

I thrusted in and out of her warm and slippery cunt, as my mother kegeled my shaft and got me on the verge of an ejaculation.

“I want to get pregnant, baby. I want another son.”

“Yes mommy.”

Her dirty talk gets dirtier the closer she is to orgasm. And she was close. But as usual, I was closer. I’ve only been at this for two minutes. I’ve got a bad rep when it comes to premature ejaculation, and it’s one of the many things my mom scolds me about.

So I pulled out, and just in time. A little shot out, but I squeezed my shaft tightly and managed to hold back the tide.

“What’s wrong?”

“I almost came, mom.”

“Fuck, Ricky, it’s been two minutes. Why does this always happen?”

“I’m sorry, mom.”

“Were you watching porn?”


“That mother-daughter crap again, Ricky?”


“You shouldn’t watch that shit. It always makes you cum too fast.”


I wasn’t planning on asking my mom about my grandma. But ever since my conversation with Luxi, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Mom, I have a stupid question.”


“Did you ever have sex with your mom?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

“Luxi said you told her that. But you were lying again, weren’t you?”

I was immediately greeted with silence and stiff body language, quite unusual for my mother, who was never reluctant to answer any question regarding her sexual history.

“Ricky, why would you think I would lie about that?”

“Because sometimes you say things that aren’t true.”

I was being very diplomatic, considering her very poor relationship with the truth. But that was still the wrong answer. Mom immediately extricated herself from my grasp and turned over to face me.

“Ricky, you think your grandmother was an angel and that I’m nothing but a lying whore, don’t you?”

“Mom, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. But you are a bit creative with the truth.”

“How dare you, Ricky? You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“You mean prison?”

“No, Ricky. Sex addiction. Do you know what it’s like to have your whole life ruined by your fucking genitals?”

“I’m a guy, mom, I know a little about it.”

“You have no idea. It physically hurts, Ricky. Sex addiction is physical pain.”

“Pain? Real pain?”

“I was originally diagnosed with clitorodynia, but I never responded to treatment. Then I had a CAT Scan, and they found the problem. There is a lump of nerve tissue on my cingulate cortex that is causing my addiction, and they can’t operate.”

“Is it a tumor?”

“No, it’s extra nervous tissue. I was born with it. And it causes me constant discomfort between my legs.”

“I’m sorry, mom, you should have told me earlier.”

“I didn’t want to burden you. But it ruined my life, Ricky. I couldn’t even be a mom to you. It’s why I hooked and constantly got in trouble with the law. It makes me seek risk. Constantly.”

I am inclined to disbelieve most of what my mom says. I mean, she once told me that she had been kidnapped when she was really locked up in prison. I was so young that I believed her. Until she got kidnapped again.

But this made a lot of sense. My mother is a chronic masturbator. At home, if she watches TV, her hand goes right between her legs. In the theater, she likes to sit in the back row and rub herself during the movie. She’s even sucked my dick during sparsely attended weekday matinees.

And if she sits in a car for more than a half hour, she pulls out her pocket vibe and puts it to use. The only thing that seems to distract her from sex is crime. And sex addiction would explain her never ending trouble with the law.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You can stop worshipping your grandmother. It’s insulting to me.”

“Why does that bother you so much?”

“Because she was a sexual deviant, Ricky.”

“Mom, come on, you can’t be serious. Grandma was the sweetest person ever.”

Without another word, mom shot up from the bed and ran out the door. She’s always held a terrible grudge against my grandma and seems incapable of letting it go.

I sighed, sat up on the edge of the bed, and looked down at my hard cock. Fuck, I’m gonna have to take care of this thing myself.

But mom came back to my room, turned on the light, and was holding a round cookie tin in her hand. She opened it up and removed the contents, which were a stack of about fifty photos. She sat down and handed me the stack.

“Here you go, Ricky. Here is your real grandma. The one I knew.”

The photos were all old 4X6 glossies. And with my cock still erect and my mother sitting next to me on the bed, I looked down at the top photo. And felt ill.

Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit. It was of two nude women. One was my mom, and the woman behind her, with her arms around her and cupping her breasts, was my grandma.

“Oh, dear god.” My whole life flashed before my eyes. This couldn’t be true.

“I told you, Ricky. This is your real grandmother.”

“How old were you in this photo?”


That meant my grandmother was thirty-nine. Mom looked very much like grandma in this photo, and she was absolutely stunning at eighteen.

My grandmother was also quite pretty, with jet black shoulder length hair, fuck-my-mouth lips, and one very beautiful round breast with an engorged nipple that looked just like mom’s. I couldn’t see her other breast, as she was standing behind my mom.

“Why did you let her do that to you?”

“Sex addiction, Ricky.”

“You were really attracted to your mom?”

“Yeah, Ricky. Very much. I felt so awful about it. Having lesbian thoughts about your own mother seemed to be as bad as a daughter could get. But I couldn’t control who I was attracted to. And I thought about her constantly. I just couldn’t fight the feelings she caused between my legs.”


“You see what sex addiction can do? It destroys families, Ricky.”

I gasped, gulped, and swallowed. Then looked at the next photo. It was even more disturbing. My grandma was on her back, with her long legs spread open for the camera. And she was lewdly smiling.

She was so neatly trimmed that she looked like she was almost shaved. She had a dark pink gash which had seen a lot of action. And there was a very large black dildo next to her on the bed.

I’ve never even seen my grandma nude. And now I was looking inside her vagina.

“Who took the photos?”

“You know her friend, Carmen?”

“Carmen? You’re kidding.” Carmen used to babysit me. She was my grandma’s best friend, and she was married with three children.

I looked at the next photo. My mom has done yoga most of her life. And there she was, doing it for her mother, on the edge of a bed. Her legs were opened so wide, they were horizontal.

And there was my dear grandma, nude, on the floor, on her knees, with her face pushed into my mom’s cunt. I couldn’t believe it. This was surreal.

“Why did grandma do this?”

“Before she came to New York, your grandma lived in Palermo with eleven brothers and sisters in a two-bedroom apartment. She lived there until she was twenty, when her mother couldn’t handle her night crawling anymore, and told her to get out.”

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