This is a follow-up to “Into the Red Zone” published in Incest/Taboo 12/24/2019. It helps to read that one, though not vital to enjoying what follows.

*****

Amber Horvath can no longer help herself—she’s decided to take the plunge into the red zone.

Her husband Glenn coined the term to describe people who engage in incest, people like the father-daughter couple who live just a few houses away. Glenn gets off on incest porn, but the thought of having sex with his own daughter “sickens” him. The red zone is one area he’d “never set foot in,” he said. Glenn knows that Amber now watches incest porn as well. What he doesn’t know is that she has sexual designs on their son Brody.

Brody doesn’t know yet either. She called him to suggest a lunch date to discuss things that “should be discussed in person.” He readily agreed to meet her. It’s been weeks since they last saw each other. Brody, in his late twenties, is a busy guy. He’s got his own apartment, works as a manager at Dick’s Sporting Goods and makes time to socialize with friends and be with his girlfriend Jody.

Amber selects Samson’s for their lunch. They serve continental cuisine, good food in a diner-like atmosphere. Nothing fancy but far from a dive either. They meet there on a Saturday, one Saturday when Brody is off work. Amber is waiting for him when he comes in wearing what he normally wears on hot days when he’s not working, shorts, a glorified t-shirt and running shoes sans socks. She stands up to greet him wearing a simple strapless blue dress, low-cut and short. “It’s been too long,” she says after they hug. “I know, time gets away from you.”

He chuckles. “You always did manage to know what I’m about to say.”

A young, ponytailed waitress brings them menus. Brody peruses his, then looks up when he notices that Amber keeps looking at him instead of her menu. “Guess you know what you want, mom.”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking,” she says, grinning a bit mischievously. She shakes her head. “Actually, I could go for the chicken salad on toasted rye.”

“And I’ll have the roast beef on rye,” he says.

Moments after they fold their menus, the waitress comes over and takes their order. Both also order Blue Moon brew in a bottle.

Amber looks across the wood table to her son, handsome as always. He’s got his dad’s coloring, brown eyes and a complexion a shade lighter than olive and glowing. She thinks it’s cute with the way he styles his dark brown hair, short on the sides, long on top with a high part. “So how’ve you been, Brody? How’s Jody, your job at Dick’s, etcetera?”

“The job’s okay,” he says, folding his hands on the table. “But I think I can do better. I mean, I didn’t get a four-year degree in business just to work for Dick’s my whole life. Jody, as you know, graduates next year. Sometimes I wonder if I should have taken up her major. Kinesiology sounds a lot more fun than business.” Amber had met Jody quite a few times, had given her a mom’s “seal of approval.” She was nice and polite, and her athleticism was a major factor in her compatibility with Brody.

“So mom,” Brody says after a few minutes of small talk, “I’m excited to hear about this important thing you wanted to discuss.” He smiles, keeping his hands neatly folded as if he were attending a business meeting.

Ah, the moment of truth, the thing she wanted to talk about but now isn’t so sure. The point of her “mission” hasn’t waned. Brody still excites her in ways she knows are inappropriate but oh so erotic in her current mindset. Expressing her feelings is another matter, no easy task. It would be easier just to back out. With a wave of her hand, she could say, ‘Oh, it was nothing important, I just missed you,’ and that would be that. Her fear of possibly freaking him out tempers her desire to get on with her mission. On the other hand, that look in his eyes, loving and desirous…Desirous? Is she projecting her own desire onto him? That could very well be the case. Some probing might be in order. “Well, maybe I exaggerated,” she says. “It’s nothing important as in earth shattering. I miss you in the household, that’s all.”

He nods. “That’s it? Mom, you could have told me that on the phone. Not that I’m sorry you arranged this. Far from it. I miss you, too.” He reaches out and squeezes her hand.

“Yes, well, there is one thing I missed that you used to do in passing. Do you know what that might be?”

He rolls his eyes. “Can’t imagine. I mean, so many things went on in that house. Can you be more specific?”

She hesitates, purses her lips, smiling like the shy girl she used to be. She’s one of those middle-age women who’ve, despite a few wrinkles, managed to retain the cuteness she possessed as a young woman. “I’m referring to those times where you patted my fanny and told me, and I quote, ‘you’ve got a nice ass, mom.’ Recall that?”

Bashfully, he grins, looks to the side and scratches his head. “Yes, I sure do. You miss that?”

“Um, kind of. Do you?” She’s getting a queasy feeling in her stomach. “Look, Brody, we can change the subject if you’re uncomfortable canlı bahis talking about this.”

“No, that’s okay. You seemed to enjoy it, so I kept doing it.”

Their food and drinks arrive. “That’s SOME sandwich,” Brody exclaims, eyeing the copious layers of roast beef stuffed between the bread.

“This place always serves big portions. I thought you might like it here, being the big eater you always were.”

He takes a bite and washes it down with a swig of beer. “So yeah, you seemed to enjoy it. We both did.”

This is music to her ears, something she had hoped he’d say. “Did you mean it, or was it some kind of tease or mamma joke?”

“Of course I meant it. My friends’ moms should look as good as you.” He munches on one of the chips that came with the meal.

She grins and bites into her sandwich. Then: “Thanks, Brody, you’ve made my day.”

He nods, then stares at her for a few moments. “Not to pry, but is everything okay between you and dad? That’s not what this talk is about, is it?”

“Everything’s fine. I mean, not perfect, no marriage is, but we’re doing okay.” She picks up a napkin to wipe her mouth, while debating whether to get into another subject, one that might take her to the place she wants to go. “You know, Brody, speaking of your dad, did you know that he watches porn?”

“No big deal. All guys watch porn. Why, did you catch him?”

“Not exactly,” she says, knowing she’d have to tell him about the confrontation with the Martins, something she feels is best avoided. “He kind of told me, I’ll leave it at that.”

He nods and takes a swig. “Look, I watch it too. Jody and I sometimes watch it together.”

She giggles. “Okay, well, I have a confession to make—I watch it too. Surprised?”

“You? Mm, maybe a little.” He pauses, narrows his eyes like he’s straining to solve a problem. “Mom, this conversation is taking some strange turns. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve never in your life brought up the subject of porn in front of me.”

“You’re right. You know, sometimes I think I’m going through some sort of female mid-life crises.”

“Could be. Does dad know? About the porn, I mean.”

“Yeah, he knows. He’s also okay with it. We’ve never watched it together, not like you and Jody.”

“Not to pry again…” He shakes his head.

“Go on.”

“Nah, too personal.”

“Oh, come on. Nothing’s too personal between a mom and her son. Well, most things, anyway.”

Again, he hesitates. Then: “Okay, so what sort of porn do you watch? Too personal, I know.”

She giggles. “It is but I wouldn’t mind telling you.” More giggles. “This isn’t easy.”

“Sure you wanna tell?”

“Sure you wanna hear it? I mean, just seconds ago you were afraid to ask.”

“I’m more curious than afraid. Don’t be shy.” He flashes an open-mouth grin, exposing his large front teeth.

She takes a swill of brew, then lowers the bottle on the table. “Actually, your father and I enjoy the same porn site. Ever hear of Family Relations XXX?”

“Can’t say that I have. Sounds like taboo sex. Is it?” She nods. “So you and dad watch family members getting it on?” She nods again. “That’s wild!”

“I hope you don’t think less of me, think I’m some kind of pervert.”

After chewing a mouthful of roast beef, he says, “Mom, I’d be a flaming hypocrite if I did because I’ve watched that kind of stuff also on other sites. But very few of those people are actually blood relatives.”

“My impression as well. But a few are, like the couples that sit for an interview before having sex on camera. There’s little doubt in my mind that they’re related. They’re average looking, some below average looking, unlike those hot looking professional porn stars.” Feeling more emboldened, she wastes little time in probing deeper. “So, um, do you have favorites among the couples?”

“Favorites?”

“You know, dad-daughter, mom-son, brother-sister. What’s my son’s fave?”

“Boy, mom, you’re really pushing the envelope today. I think I’ll need another beer to continue this.”

“Good idea.” She calls the waitress over and orders two more Blue Moons.

Brody gulps down the remainder of his first bottle. Then: “Well, if you really want to know, it’s the mom-son videos. I find them to be the most erotic.” Amber’s broad grin all but answers the same question he was about to ask her. “You too? Mom-son?”

She’s close to jumping out of her seat with excitement. Things are moving toward where she wants them to go. “Yes, me too!” She thinks back to the video of the mom and son that in looks resembles she and Brody. Can that really BE she and Brody sometime in the future? If only!

Their second round of beers arrive. She takes a swill, then continues. “You know, your father likes the dad-daughter stuff, but says he wouldn’t think of doing anything like that with Kelly. The thought ‘sickens’ him, he said. He calls it the ‘red zone.’ What’s more, he assumes that I feel the same way about, well, jumping into bed with you.” She holds her beer bottle on the table, looks him straight in the bahis siteleri eye. “Brody, since we’re being candid here, answer me honestly. When you watch mom-son porn, does it give you ideas about us?”

She thinks it’s cute the way his complexion turns a bashful pink, although he might not think it’s so cute, she surmises. She can understand why this incest talk might make him uncomfortable. She reaches over and pats his arm. “Look, Brody, you don’t have to answer that. Maybe this has gone far enough for one day.”

“No, mom, I want to answer.” He nods, then gulps down a swill. “Just need to be fortified first,” he chuckles. “Okay, yeah, those videos give me ideas. You too, I’d guess.” She nods. He shakes his head. “Truth to tell, mom, I’ve had ideas even before going on those sites. Those times when I patted your cute, sexy derriere. I was trying to be funny at first. But then it became something else the more I did it. One time, ohmygod, I saw you bend over the dryer in the basement and you had these sexy yellow panties on. Not to mention catching glimpses of you in those short nightgowns you used to wear, seeing your yummy thighs and butt hanging out. It drove me nuts.”

She giggles, then takes a sip. “Well, it just so happens that that’s what I’m wearing underneath this dress, yellow panties. She looks around, then lifts her dress and spreads her legs. “Why don’t you duck under the table and take a look.”

He scans the room. The coast is hardly clear, but the other diners appear engrossed in their own conversations. He takes the plunge, feels a bit stupid being on all fours under the table in a public place, looking up his mom’s dress of all things. Still, it doesn’t stop him from reaching out and running his fingers along the inside her smooth, bare thighs or breathing in the scent wafting from her loins, erotically pungent, deliciously feminine. He sits up and says, “Nice mom, really nice. Did you wear those just for me?”

“Subliminally maybe,” she says, pulling down her dress. “How would you have reacted if I hadn’t worn anything underneath?” There’s nothing subliminal about what she’s doing now, opening her mouth and wagging her tongue suggestively over her teeth and lower lip.

He rubs his hand over his crotch. “I guess the way I’m reacting now.”

She leans forward, takes a peek over the table and giggles. “I bet you’re the only one in here nursing a beer and a boner.” She puts her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Something silly that popped into my head. You remember those old Dick and Jane primers. One might read, ‘this is Brody’s beer and this is Brody’s boner.'”

He grins and shakes his head. “You’ve got one irreverently perverted sense of humor, mom.”

“I’m starting to believe that myself. I’m also starting to believe—no, make that know—that those yellow panties you just saw are becoming damp with excitement. She reaches below the table. “Oh boy, just as I thought.”

Brody looks around again. “Mind if I take another peek?”

“Go ahead. Just don’t stay too long. All we need is to get thrown out of here for lewd behavior.”

What Brody wants most is to get another whiff of that rich, erotic scent between Amber’s legs. This time, he sticks his head into her crotch. ‘Oh, man,’ he thinks, ‘I could lick that pussy all day.’ Then he feels the dampness she mentioned.

She opens her legs wider and sighs. “Ooo, Brody, I love what you’re doing, but don’t press our luck. Ooo, you’re getting me so hot. Ah, that feels so good.” Yes, it sure does, so good that she doesn’t see their waitress approach the table.

The young waitress (Donna reads her name tag), wearing a white top and black stretch pants, catches a few seconds of Amber’s soft moans. Then Amber finally sees her, jumps and kicks Brody to come out. “Ma’am, will there be anything—¨ Donna steps back to see Brody unfold his embarrassed self from all fours, her expression a mix of dismay and amusement. “O-kay…Will there be anything else?”

Amber covers her face and shakes her head, trying not to laugh. “No, just the check.”

Donna nods, scribbles the total on her checkbook and tears it off. Then, suspiciously, she stares at a red-faced Brody, sitting up and grinning like a naughty schoolboy caught in the act. Finally, she takes her eyes off him and peers under the table, as if trying to see whatever she presumes Brody was looking for.

“He dropped something,” Amber chimes in.

Donna nods and rolls her brown eyes, heavily made-up with blue eye shadow. “Right. Well, I hope he found it. You folks have a nice day.”

Amber and Brody sit there giggling as Amber places her money in the folder. When they walk out to the sun-splashed parking lot, Amber says, “I don’t think I’ll be returning to Samson’s anytime soon. Not with Donna on duty, anyway.”

“You don’t think she saw anything, do you?”

“Like your face against my wet panties? No. But she saw more than she should have.” She steps closer and eyes his crotch. “Speaking of things to see, how’s Brody’s boner?”

Brody’s just bahis şirketleri inches from his hot mom, almost close enough to where he can almost smell the sweetness of the tanned, translucent swath of bare skin above her dress. Her garment’s low-cut top-end affords him an eyeful of deep cleavage and beyond. He imagines her pulling out the silver barrette that holds her hair up, then shaking her head as her thick salt-and-pepper locks fall around her shoulders. Stepping even closer, he sticks his hand under her dress, rides it up the backs of her yummy thighs, then gives her cute derriere a gentle squeeze. “Brody’s boner is awakening once again. If you’re not busy, maybe we can go someplace to finish what we started.”

“Into the red zone, as your dad might say. He vows he’d never go there. Me, I can’t wait to get there.” For emphasis, she pinches the hem of her dress, then lifts it three-quarters up her thighs. She drops her dress, then takes out her cell. “I better call your dad to tell him I won’t be home right away.”

After telling Glenn she’s going shopping, she gets into her blue Subaru Forrester and follows Brody’s red Mazda 3 to his garden style apartment building. It’s just a short, five-mile drive, though her can’t-wait state of excitement makes it feel longer. Ohmygod, is she really going to do this, really going to consummate her fantasies? It feels so surreal, so out of body almost.

It feels less surreal when they get inside, less surreal still when they walk into Brody’s bedroom. She’s no longer in front of her laptop; she’s in her son’s bedroom to engage in things she’s SEEN on her laptop. Videos are one thing; this is something else, live, happening in real time.

Amber steps out of her sandals; Brody kicks off his running shoes. They embrace in the carpeted bedroom beside Brody’s half-made bed. Amber’s kissed her son throughout his twenty-plus years, pecks on the cheek, hi and goodbye. Never like this, never on the lips and never with the sort of erotic passion reserved for significant others, not relatives, not her own son, for chrissake.

“We’re in the red zone,” Brody says, fingers tucked inside those damp, yellow panties, massaging Amber’s tush while they smooch.

“We definitely are,” she responds. “And it’s getting redder by the minute.”

As if to prove it, she steps back, then wiggles out of her dress, snaps open her bra, then peels down her panties. “Now you,” she says, feeling the erection that bulges against his shorts. “Don’t be shy, strip off those clothes!” He does, and not in a shy way, as the song goes. She looks him over, obviously pleased with what she sees. “Look at you,” she gushes, “chiseled quads, peaky biceps, six-pack and all.”

“You ain’t so bad yourself, mom.” He means it. Brody’s friends have commented on his mom’s physical assets, her cute face wedded to a cute body, curvy, petite and well-proportioned, from her taught, grabbable butt to her tiny waist and a face that will no doubt retain a measure of cuteness into old age.

He kisses her between her lovely breasts, the same ones that once gave him and his sister nourishment. They’re not quite as firm as they were all those years ago, but they’re close, firm and perky for a middle-age woman at any rate. He looks up and says, “Mom, your hair. Care to let it down for me?”

She smiles, reaches back and pulls out her barrette. She shakes her head in that super sexy way women do when their hair unravels and tumbles down. “You like?” She wraps her hand around his full staff. “Yeah, I suppose you do if this is any indication.”

“Mom, I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life.”

“Better not let Jodi hear that, big boy. She’d freak out if she knew. And I’m sure that’s putting it mildly.”

“Maybe not.” He bends down to suck on her nipples, while running an index finger over her pussy.

Her knees buckle. “Honey, if I don’t lie or sit down soon, I’m going to collapse on your pretty Berber carpeting.” She sits on the edge of the bed, reaches up and takes his cock in her hands, then proceeds to give him oral. Her head bobs in steady, even strokes, and she’s careful to keep her teeth off the “merchandise,” as she puts it. Moments later, she’s on her back, squeezing said merchandise between her boobs. She asks, “Have you ever done this with Jodi?” A first for him, he assures her. She can tell he’s enjoying the sensation, the sensuous feel of her silky-soft mammary skin against his granite-hard cock. He could come like this, he tells her. But he wants to come elsewhere, and Amber is more than okay with that. She guides him in, scarcely believing that she’s living the fantasy she’s harbored for weeks as she sat in front of her laptop, watching those moms and sons getting it on in the so-called red zone. She’s ablaze with passion. She’s ablaze with desire. The wonderful scent of them licking and touching and grinding and humping fills her olfactory senses like nothing she’s ever sniffed or tasted. Loving her son like this is taboo, she knows, but at this incendiary moment, taboo takes a backseat to let’s do. It’s a mindset that melts away any lingering inhibition like sun on snow. If there’s guilt or consequences, she’ll deal with them later. Taboo or not, this somehow feels right, the right thing at the right moment with the right man, her own son.