Defining The Distance - Madame Gallivant - ebook
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DESCRIPTION: Tabitha is not sure of how things are developing between her and her son. Is it Destin that turned her on so much, or was it just the excitement of being with a new man? And how will the nature of their unique relationship affect his development as a man? There is only one way to find out, to define the distance between them! EXCERPT: “Bullshit,” Fiona said, “Seriously, though? You?” “Yes, serious,” I said, no nonsense in my tone. “What made you finally do it?” she asked, the laughter replaced by pure curiosity. I caught my son playing with himself, he caught me, and then we fucked; oh, and I sucked his best friend's cock, too, while he was filling up my pussy. “I don't know,” I lied, trying to backtrack my way out of this one. “Tell me,” Fiona demanded, “So is he older, younger?” “Younger,” I said, “Much younger.” “How young?” she asked, digging further, “Come on, tell me.” “Eighteen,” I said, “Why?” “You better be careful,” Fiona laughed, “I like them young, too, but that's dangerous territory. Eighteen year olds don't know how to keep their mouths shut.” “You don't want to leave Andrew, do you?” she asked. “No, I don't,” I said, “I'm bored with him, but I don't want to leave him.” “Well then you better get over it girl,” Fiona suggested, “If you don't, you are going to end up wrecking your life.” “I can't do that,” I said, also true. “You must have feelings for him,” Fiona ruminated, “That's really not good.” “I do,” I said. Of course I do- he's my, son! “Be careful,” Fiona advised, “Is he the first man you fucked since Andrew?” “You know the answer to that,” I said. “I can't blame you,” Fiona said, “It gets boring fucking the same man, day in and day out. But since he is the first, maybe you have feelings for him just because he is someone new and different.” “So what should I do?” I asked. “Tread lightly, play carefully,” she said, “And go and try someone else. If you still feel so strongly about this new man, then keep doing what you’re doing. But tell him flat out that you ain't going to leave your husband, and make sure you set the rules of the relationship. Is he married?” “No,” I said. “That's good and that's bad,” she explained, “Good because you don't have to worry about a jealous wife showing up at your door one day; bad because he's just out of high school, and he's probably in love with you, and he might show up at your door!” Oh he does- he's one room down!

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by Madame Gallivant

Published by Lot’s Cave

The Catcher In The Den No.2

Defining The Distance, © 2018, Madame Gallivant

Cover by Lot’s Cave

All Rights Reserved

All Characters In This Book Are Age 18 Or Older

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the Lot’s Cave website and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Lot’s Cave Novel

www.LotsCave.com

CONTENTS

Defining The Distance

~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note

Family Exotica

Incest Erotica

Other Novels

by Madame Gallivant

I had done it; I had crossed the “line”, and I had fucked my own son.

Not too many mothers will admit this type of indiscretion- not even to themselves, let alone to anyone else- but after the fact, I gladly (even if privately) do admit it; I had fucked my son, and I had enjoyed every minute of it!

Life continued on after that Saturday afternoon when I had crossed that line from lust to action. My husband continued to concentrate on his work, and Destin and Durrell continued to be best friends. If anyone seemed to be most affected by the events of that Saturday, it was me, and I still had to be the mother and the wife of this home.

After we had done what we had done, part of me worried that my son would suddenly become too obvious and somehow give everything away. Destin hadn't lied to his father when he admitted he was seeing an older woman- a hot older blonde as he had said!- and the best lies are based in the truth. Of course, Destin hadn't lied at all; he simply had not given away more information that he had been asked for by Andrew.

Sometimes getting caught doesn't require words. People who know each other as well as immediate family members do, can often pick up on the subtle clues that don't require a single word of speech. Movements, gestures, and even tones of voice can reveal that something is different than normal, and that was what I was worried about; even if Destin could manage to stay above suspicion, I still had to guard myself against unintentionally revealing myself to Andrew.

I still loved my husband; despite the distances between us, despite what had happened in the living room, and I had no desire to leave him.

Yes, I had, in the traditional sense of the word, “cheated” on him; having sex with someone other than your spouse is cheating according to the “rules of society”.

Having sex with a family member is considered beyond cheating- and the rules of society said that incest, unless practiced by members of royal families, was the one type of sexual relationship that could not be justified nor pursued under any conditions. The most liberal of people, who might accept the fact that their own mother had “turned” into a lesbian, would generally not accept the fact that their mother was now fucking their brother.

The rules of society- let us consider these unwritten demands that we are all supposed to follow for a moment.

We are told from birth what we are supposed to like, and dislike; yes, we are given a limited amount of liberty- we can choose one brand of soda over another, or one brand of politics over another- but we are not supposed to stray past certain guidelines.

At one time, it was considered “taboo” for people to date or marry outside of their social class, let alone their ethnicity or religion; back then, people could marry their first cousins if they wanted (and many did), but if a servant married his master's daughter, that was just not to be allowed. A master could pursue a sexual interest in one of his servants, but a servant could not pursue the same interest in his mistress.

Until recently, it was considered taboo for people to have a romantic or sexual interest in a member of the same sex. Some people are still disgusted by this right of others to live the way they want to live, but in general, most people do accept it today. And those who have often been the loudest about their dislike of gay people are almost always the ones who themselves have something going on in their own personal closet.

Maybe those who were most appalled by the idea of adult incest, between two consenting family members of legal age, were the ones whom had a secret desire of their own. Unable to pursue their need to feel the soft skin of their sister, or the hard cock of their son, they instead settled for doing all they could to disparage those whom had been found out to have done just that.

So who is to say what I am to do, or what you are to do?

As long as everyone is of age- and Destin, my son, was of legal age; as long as everyone consented- and again, he did as well- then it was a choice to be made not by “society”, but by myself and him. I don't tell others how to live their lives, and nobody had a right to tell me or Destin how to live our lives.

I am a mother, I am a wife, and I am also a woman who made love to her son. I was at peace with the decision I had made, and the only thing I could think about was the next time that I would be able to do it again!

As the days passed and turned into weeks, Destin pleasantly surprised me with his discretion and maturity. There was no fear that he would slip up, or spill the beans. Though I longed for his touch, I did not want to risk ruining everything.

When his father wasn't looking, I could see in my son's eyes that he was indeed looking at my mature body as an object of his sexual lust; I smiled when I caught him, and I felt the tingle in between my legs that reminded me of one of the best experiences of my life. He wanted more, more of me, and when I was in the shower, I pictured his young firm cock sliding in between the folds of my pussy and spilling his hot seed deep inside of me.

I wanted to jump on him as soon as Andrew left the house for work every day. Unfortunately, Destin was usually in school by then, or if he wasn't, his younger sister was still around. Having to restrain one's self from the object of one's desire can be pure unmitigated torture!

As for Durrell, my son's best friend, my interest in him wasn't as strong; yes, I had sucked his young cock (and it had tasted good), and yes, I thought about fucking him too, but the type of lust I felt for him was somehow different than the type of lust I felt for Destin.

I can't say it was because of the slight difference in their genital proportions; Durrell was not quite as big as my boy, but he was definitely large enough to adequately fill my pussy or mouth up. I thought of Durrell plowing into me, and the feeling that resulted was a pleasant one, but it was purely physical. The lust I felt for my son was not just a physical lust, but a mental desire as well.

The next time Durrell came over our house, on a Wednesday afternoon, Durrell made sure he gave me the look over, but he didn't say much.

Was he jealous that he had not had the chance to put his cock into my mature pussy, or did he want more from me?

“Are you boys busy?” I asked, walking into the living-room; Destin and Durrell were involved in their latest game, some first person shooter, and did not even seem to notice my arrival. The only thing that can compete in the male mind with a sexual interest is the distraction of electronics. Ugh.

I will get them to notice.