Incest
2004-01-14

With a shaking hand, the boy had written out his Christmas wish list this year, asking for 'date-rape' drugs, solid-steal handcuffs, mind-control devices and even the classic, x-ray goggles! Anything that could aid him in his 'appreciation' of his sweet mother. Above all else though, Michael had especially asked for a Mistletoe Belt. That was what led to the boy's eager anticipation on Christmas morning as he listened to his favorite Christmas song of 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus', waiting for his own mother to awake. So they could begin the joyous festivities of the day. It always made little Michael giggle as he heard the child wonder aloud in the song about the possibilities of blackmailing his mother. Michael had always wished so much that maybe he would have been able to catch his own mother with Santa Claus maybe even actually 'filling her stockings,' so-to-speak, but alas, that was never to be. Not that it would matter, mused the boy, as he knew by looking at the clock, his mother's alarm would soon buzz her out of her dreams and into his own. When her son bounded into her bedroom, the pretty, young mother couldn't help but smile; she didn't have a clue as to what was soon to be her fate. She wished her husband could be home for this joyous day, but someone needed to pay for the gifts that lay wrapped beneath that tree. So Leta pulled back her covers and stepped forth to begin the next step of this Christmas fable. Adding to her ill fate, the mom was wearing a cute little shortie-nightie, with just a hint of transparently to allow the coloring and outline of her bra and panties to come through. Though her tits weren't really huge melon types, they were firm enough to make the bra unnecessary, especially to bed at night. So she actually wasn't wearing at all! And her panties were the glass type, allowing the occasional flash of her dark pubic hairs to appear behind the swish of her nighty as her ass wriggled and bounced out of the room. Mother and son headed to the tree to do some paper tearing. Little Michael's eyes lit with glee as he saw the colored bundles awaiting beneath the tree. He saw the sweaters from his aunt's and the toys from his dad, but the care packages from Kris Kringle were the prize.

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   Mom grabbed her camera to capture some Kodak moments for her husband's later pleasure. She felt a warm glow as she gave the first go ahead to her precious angle to start the unwrapping [Unwrappings which would eventually include her robe. ]Michael knew he might have to pause with package in hand while mommy snapped of her pictures. So he decided to open what would be his video recorder first. Eventually, the camera would make his mother an internet starlet, but for now it would speed the proceedings along more to the boy's liking. Of course, mommy insisted that Michael shake the package and make his guess. It annoyed the child, who felt too old to behave in such infantile manners, but the kid grinned and bore it, confident he would correct his mother's understanding of exactly how 'big' a boy he was. Leta's eyes saw the contents of Michael's first package, and her jaw almost hit the floor [useful exercise for the main event]. She was flabbergasted that Santa would bring such an expensive gift for her child, but it filled her with a mother's pride, that her baby's behavior warranted such an extravagant gift. "Michael, I had no idea that you asked Santa Claus for a video recorder!" the mother beamed. "Yeah mom, I told his representative at the mall, when I gave him my letter. Just to make sure, I told him I would give him copies of the videos we'd make. Hey, you can videotape the rest of the gift opening and stop wasting time to get the perfect picture. " Leta had never used a video camera before, but luckily it was idiot-proof. She was able to narrow down the view finder to crop out any accidental documentation of her child's wetness in the front of his pajama's.

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   She was a good mother to be so diligent in such regards. Michael's next package was heavy enough to be the solid steel constraining devices and leather wear that would be so much fun to use on his mother.

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He hoped Santa had got the sizes right. Mom had quite a slender neck, so Michael was pretty sure that he could use his own dog's studded collar if Santa's gift wasn't right, but the rest of the all-black, slick-and-shiny slut suit with every appropriate opening for easy accommodation was 'bound' to be perfect. The hand cuffs, ankle chains, ball gags and other restricting devices were one-size-fits-all types. So they would not be much of a concern. . . Michael almost opened the package, just to reassure himself of the sizing, but he decided some things might be better left as a surprise for mommy later, like maybe on boxing-day. The next gift, under the tree, from jolly old Saint Nick, was a little bundle of pill and powder filled bottles. Michael saw only choice types, from GHB to Ecstasy and even some good old fashioned chloroform. It appeared Michael had been good enough to get all his wish list fulfilled, but these date-enhancers would not be necessary with mom. Later, they could be fun with teachers and other pretty things, so the present was well received. Leta was more than a little curious about what had to be 'candy' pills. It seemed to the innocent mother that she had heard something about GHB, but in the excitement of the moment she couldn't remember exactly what.

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   Oh well, Michael had already set them aside. There would be time enough later for the conscientious mother to the bottles were right for her child. Still, they came from Santa Claus, so how bad could they be?The mother's sound reasoning was to be challenged when her child unwrapped his next gift. A super-deluxe home tattooing-kit. "Michael, what is that?" The shocked parent asked. "It's my tattoo-kit from Santa," came the matter-of-fact reply. "You're not getting any tattoos, young man," mother stated. "I'm not going to tattoo myself, mom," the boy foreshadowed. "I can't believe Santa Claus would give you a tattoo-kit. Or that you would even ask for one! Well? You can't have it. Give it to me NOW!"It didn't really matter. The real fun with the tattoo kit wouldn't come until the day of the super bowl party in January, when Michael would finally make friends with the popular Negro boys in his school. Michael had heard they liked to do art and stuff with graffiti and would really enjoy the permanence of inking his mother's pretty body. For now, he let her put away the tattoo kit, because the final, unexplored package from Santa awaited. With it, Michael's Christmas would forever end his mother's innocence.

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  Leta was still a little off-kilter from the tattoo-kit. She mulled over discussing it with her husband. He wouldn't be home till late, but then again, he would see the video. Afterwards, he could decide the best response. She shelved her budding concern about Santa's gifts then. Her child still had two unopened presents. So she lifted camera to eye and focused on her precious angle as dived on the smaller, and yet-unexplored, silver wrapped packaged. Excitedly, the paper was torn away, and the box fell open to reveal what Leta never could have suspected, let alone recognize what she beheld. It appeared to be a belt of some sort. Constructed mainly of leather, the curiosity sported a clump of green shoots which held tiny, cream berries which proved to hide a buckle. It's incomprehensible design brought a troubled query to the mother's lips," What is that, Michael?""It's a Mistletoe Belt, mommy. ""A Mistletoe Belt!? Michael, DON'T PUT IT ON!!!!""Yeah mommy, I'm putting it on write now, right on top of my wet pajamas. ""No sweetie, you don't understand," gasped the silly mother!But little Michael certainly did understand as evidenced by his growing bulge tenting the front of his piss-soaked pj's. Mommy was not fast enough to stop her grinning child from snapping the mistletoe belt in place, right where it belonged. "Michael quick, take that belt off, before its too late," Mom panicked!"Not yet mommy - you haven't given me my kiss yet.

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  "Already, it was useless for the poor mother to resist. She knew the rules just as well as anyone. In fact, it was she who had answered her child's quiz about this ancient ritual, just the previous year. Now her answers had returned to seal her fate"Just a second mommy. First I want to put the video camera on the tripod to record the kissing, and make sure that your face will be easily identified. ""Michael, no! What are you thinking? If my face is identified than it will be so humiliating if anyone else saw this video. ""I know mommy! You'd probably do anything that kind of embarrassment. ""Yes I would, Michael, ANYTHING! So we can't risk letting my face be identified when I kiss under your mistletoe belt. ""Sorry mommy, but the camera has already recorded us, so we need proof that you obeyed the rules and kissed under the mistletoe," the boy reasoned. Michael glanced once again to confirm the red indicator of the video camera to insure that the moment would be captured for eternity. Then he focused all of his attention to the ultimate enjoyment of watching his mother drop submissively at his feet with her lips puckered to begin his pleasuring. "Sorry I peed in my pajama's mom. The kiss is going to taste awful you know," Michael mocked. And so it did. When Leta pursed her lips and planted a smack to fulfill her mistletoe obligations, she had to fight her gag reflex, brought forth not only from the total inappropriateness of kissing the crotch of her own son, but especially when the crotch in question left her face dripping with urine still warm, as her morning refresher.

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  "The kiss tasted like pee, didn't it mom?" The boy again mocked his mother's plight. "Yes Michael, I know you didn't mean to wet your bed last night. You would have had no way of knowing I would be forced to kiss you under the mistletoe like this, but it did taste like pee and it makes me feel very dirty. ""I'll pull my pajama's off mommy," the child offered helpfully, knowing full-well, the consequences. "Michael NO!" The mother responded, again too-late. The boy was now down to just his jockeys under the belt, but the real significance was that their was a new target for the unfortunate mother underneath that mistletoe, and this one was every bit as piss flavored as the last, if not more so?"Michael, now I have to kiss you, AGAIN. ""It's okay mommy, there's plenty of tape still in the recorder," the brat feigned his innocence. Even as poor Leta began to understand her not so innocent child's duplicity in orchestrating her dilemma, she was still powerless to deny tradition on this most holy of holidays. Her eyes couldn't help but see the now full bulge threatening to explode forth out of her son's stained briefs, and it shamed her to be so inappropriate. She was left with no option but to drop once more to her knees and pucker up for her womanly duties. The sight of his mother bowing beneath him, was everything the boy had dreamed! To be able to glance down at his mother's head as it pressed snugly against his pee soaked gonch, thrilled him to no end. The tickling of his mother's sweet, full ruby red lips caressing his cock through that thin layer of wet cloth was fantastic, but teasing had now outlived its allure, and it was time to get more direct. "I bet my underwear really tasted like piss too, didn't it mommy?""It's, uh, okay Michael. DON'T take it off!" "Oops, too late, mommy. Now I guess you have to kiss me again, now that I'm naked.

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   All that green sure does tickle!" Michael giggled with glee. What's a mom to do? Sure she may have seen it before? Certainly? During baths and 'accidental' moments. But like THIS? Under these conditions? Standing out so erect and so purposefully and so totally under that damn mistletoe? It was almost enough cause to break the rules! Almost. "Michael, you're doing this on purpose. " It wasn't a question anymore. "The camera is rolling mommy, and remember, Santa himself will be watching a copy. You wouldn't want him to know you refused his ritual. Make sure you don't cover your face so he can verify your compliance. He gave this to me for a reason, and we shouldn't defy his will. "Michael, we have to shut off the video! What if your dad saw it?""It wouldn't be good for dad to see, would it mom?" The boy appended darkly. "Honey, the way you said that frightens mommy," Leta sensed the meaning in her child's tone. "Dad just wouldn't understand, would he? You know he doesn't believe in mistletoe like we do. ""Michael. . .

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   please tell mommy you don't mean that like a threat. ""Just make sure your face is easily identifiable when you kiss my cock mom. Don't worry. Daddy won't have to see the video, as long as you keep kissing my cock, and for as long as I like, until I come all over your face! Then it will be time for me to give you my present, when I put a baby in you!"And daddy never did see the video. . . Although he was the only one. Poor mother Leta became the ultimate little sex slave, but that is a tale for another holiday. .