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It's been a very long time since I submitted something here! If you like anthro mother-son incest, then you've come to the right place. Please leave a comment if you did like it!

The characters in this story is of legal, consenting age.

Lovesong pt1

By

P

The kangaroo carefully hooked the nylon rope under the cleat, holding it snug with one orange paw as he drew it across and looped it over the other end. Then back across. Then back over the top just so before poking the loose end under another loop and pulling it tight. Placing his paws on his knees, he straightened up on the dock, arching his back a little and regarding his tiedown. The MS Snickers bobbed docilely on the dock, close enough to board easily, but not so close as to grind against the dockside if anyone out on the lake left a wake. He reached down into the boat, shouldering a camo backpack and letting a pair of flip-flops plop onto the weather-warped wood at his feet. He toed into the flops and took off up the dock, patting the pockets of his jeans to make sure he had his wallet, shopping list and keys.

The lake itself was big, the high mountains that crowded it on the far shore already hiding the setting sun. It was only 5 or so (so he guessed, he'd given up on wearing a watch a year ago) but it felt a lot later due to the shadow of the mountains across the dock. It was getting cooler already, and he briefly wondered if he should go back for a sweatshirt before he hoofed it into town for supplies. He was so lost in his private musings that when he glanced at the end of the dock he saw but didn't recognize his own mother waiting for him at the end for a moment. He took a few steps toward her, still preoccupied with fishing his shopping list from his shirt pocket that he started a little bit when his brain finally made the connection.

Yet there she was, much as he'd remembered her; her fur a lighter shade of orange than his own, her hips a little wider than before, with a little more mottling along the top and tip of the tail she used for balance, delicate paws clutching a paper bag to her chest. Her amber eyes met his blue ones in a moment of uncertainty. She took one of her paws off of the bag and pointed at him "Watch out!" she called.

"M-mom?" he said, stepping forward firmly onto a cooler some careless boater had left on the dock. His hind-paw slipped out from under him and he stumbled to one knee, almost losing his backpack into the lake. He righted himself, flushing with embarrassment, which was quickly replaced with sullen anger. "What are your doing here?" he demanded querulously. He noticed the roller suitcase resting against her leg. He pointed. "And why the luggage?"

"Foster...son...doesn't your mom at least deserve a hug?" She held out her paws, still clutching the paper bag. It had the logo from an airport gift shop.

So he did. He had always been the tall one in the family, and she laid her head briefly on the nape of his neck, squeezing him tight like she used to do. He swallowed back a small sob, emotions conflicting in him; feeling both anger at the adult and the comfort and safety of his mother's embrace. For a moment he was a little joey in her arms.

The older kangaroo pulled back, paws trailing along his forearms until she held his paws in hers. She looked away, briefly. "I hired a private detective a few months ago to find you." she said. "He found your name on the boat registry, and then on the entrance records from the port up north. I took a chance and flew out here in hopes that you'd be traveling along the coast." She shrugged, then seemed to notice the bag she was still clutching. "I got you a bottle of wine at the airport."

Foster sighed, the anger now a dull ember. "Thank you." he said, accepting the gift. "I guess you couldn't have called. I kind of wanted to get off the grid." He waved his free paw at the mountains, the lake, everything. "Clear my head a little."

"I understand. After your father's..hearing, and the settlement, you left so angry. I didn't want that to be the last time...the last time you felt anything about him." She met his gaze. "Or me."

He shrugged. "We can talk about that later, mom. It's going to be dark soon, and I wanted to get a few supplies before nightfall." He motioned towards the small cluster of buildings at the end of the dock. It was hardly a town, really, just a few stores and a post office. "Do you have a hotel for the night?"

At that she grinned sheepishly. "Well...no." she allowed. "I was hoping to spend some time on your boat. With you." she paused, unsure how to go on.

"Make up for some lost mother-son bonding?" he asked, half-playful, half-accusatory. Plopping down in the middle of his life without an adequate plan. She was so predictable!

"Exactly!"

"Here, let me get that luggage for you."

The grocery store in the town was small and faded, like the town itself. The building had once been something else, a garage or gas station perhaps? Or maybe a fast food chain, only to be sold off to the local populace once the demographic and business had receded. The elk girl behind the one open register hadn't even looked up when they came in, only chewing her gum and swiping idly at a tablet on the counter in front of her. Somehow on the 5 minute walk to the store he's ended up surrendering the list to her and she now studied it in one paw as she pushed the shopping cart along in the other. He trailed along behind her, rolling luggage in tow, once again feeling like a 5 year old out shopping with his mom. Foster felt like he should maybe sneak a bag of cookies into the basket to see if she'd buy them.

On the way back to the dock they chatted idly, mostly just catching up on each other's life over the last year or so. "So you know, I ended up with the penthouse in the city." she said. He asked her how the big city had been, and had she seen any plays or concerts? She laughed wistfully. "Well I did at first, but I felt like I was just visiting a theme park. But then I'd come home, pass by the doorman, take a 2 minute elevator ride, and then have the whole place to myself." "Yeah I was there for a summer once." he said, readjusting his grip on the bags and tugging his backpack around. "The view was amazing."

"I know, it was." she said, "It's just that there was 3 bedrooms and only one me. I felt like a pebble in an empty tin can, just rattling around."

The younger kangaroo looked a little surprised. "You didn't have any friends there?"

His mother glanced down, kicking a crushed up soda can out of her path. The silence spun out for a little while. He was about to ask something else when she she finally spoke up. "All the friends we made together there were his. And..and hers."

Foster felt a flash of anger at the mention of his father's mistress, his eyes narrowing and his ears flattening on his head. "You mean to tell me-"

"That's the one?" she said suddenly, pointing to the end of the dock. "That's your boat?"

There was a moment, standing halfway along the dock in the gathering nightfall, that Foster felt the resentment in him building, like a lump in his throat. It would be too easy to keep going, to pin her down with questions and accusations. Part of him wanted just that. But what then? They'd still be standing here on the dock at the end, and she'd still be his mother and he'd be her son. And after all, with his parents divorced (and in his dad's case, in jail) who in their family was left? It was in that moment he looked at his mother anew. They both didn't have anyone else in the world.

He cleared his throat "Yeah it's mine. It's a decommissioned 40 foot patrol boat." He brightened considerably as they approached it. "It took me about 6 months to gut out the inside and refit it for living. Not all the electrics work right now, but the engine's good and she's seaworthy." He put the grocery bags and her luggage on board then stepped down onto the rear deck, causing the boat to bob slightly. "The back flood lights don't work right now so I plugged in some Christmas lights. Here." He ducked out of sight for a second and then the back deck lit up with a multicolored glow from a few strands he'd suspended from the captain's tower to the stern.

He held out a paw as she gingerly stepped on board. "That's adorable!" She exclaimed. She noticed the name on the stern "Why the MS Snickers?" She asked.

"Oh that's the name is had when I got it.." He rolled his eyes. "I keep forgetting to change it."

He gave her a quick tour of the boat, as small as it was. She put up the groceries they'd bought in the tiny galley, and marveled at the cramped, utilitarian shower and toilet. "It's like one of those tiny houses you see on cable, isn't it?" She laughed. She hadn't gotten the hang of the narrow environment quite yet, so she knocked a few things over with her tail accidentally. Once they got to the bow of the cabin he held aside the curtain across the sleeping quarters, revealing a single queen mattress that took up the entirety of the cabin, with storage shelves along the back and a low, sloping ceiling that followed the fore-deck above.

She put her paw to her muzzle, distressed. "Wow." She said. "I thought there'd be a little more room."

"Don't worry Mom," he said, digging through one of the cabinets. "I've got a pretty good sleeping bag and air mattress. It's still warm out so I'll be fine."

"You sure?" The young kangaroo gathered the stuff under his arm, nodding. His mother smiled, cupping his cheek in her paw and running a thumb along his cheekbone. "You're a good son."

He'd fall asleep on the rear deck that night, laying out and looking through the Christmas lights at the bright scrawl of stars. It's just us now, he thought as he drifted off.

Over the next few days they headed inland, motoring up the river that fed the lake. The towering mountains slowly giving way to rolling hills, then flat farmland and forest. They first crossed under some roads, and then for a while a highway paralleled the river, the sound of the occasional passing big rig roaring over the steady chug of the engines. They made landfall at a few smaller towns along the way. Most notably to get his mother a new set of clothes. The clothes in the rolling overnight suitcase she'd brought with her were modest, to be sure, but they were also $1000 slacks and $500 shoes better suited to a night at the opera instead of life on a boat. They'd shopped at a goodwill within walking distance of a mill that backed up to the river, getting her a more practical set of clothes. She seemed happier now, wearing an oversized t-shirt or flannel and simple apron and she puttered around in the tiny galley or sat on an aluminum folding chair on the back deck gazing out over the wide, brown expanse of the river. He caught himself watching her out of the corner of his eye at times, wondering at what she could be thinking.

Night was falling as Foster spun the ship's wheel starboard, steering the craft into a smaller tributary. They were still a day's sailing from the next town, and the young kangaroo didn't want to risk anchoring overnight on the big river. He checked the depth map of the offshoot to make sure they wouldn't strand themselves on a sand bar. Still, he kept one eye on the narrowing river and another on the sonar, carefully picking his way along the smaller flow of water until they were out of sight of the river.

He cut the engine and slid down the small 3-step ladder to the rear deck. Picking up a small anchor, he walked it to the front of the boat, first pendulum-ing the heavy weight at the end of the rope before snapping it into a tight orbit, letting it fly off the bow into the river, almost forgetting to tie it to one of the cleats along the bow. The boat slowly slid to a stop, then drifted backward with the flow of the river until the line grew taught. The kangaroo nodded. Good enough.

With the drone of the engine gone, the sounds of the river and the forest that lined it on both sides began to reassert themselves. The highway that had followed them had disappeared into the trees around noon, and they hadn't passed a boat upstream or downstream in at least a couple of hours. The shadows of the trees were getting longer, and a cool, earthy scent drifted across the deck from the shoreline. Foster's stomach rumbled a little bit as he made his way along the narrow walkway to the back of the boat, half-glimpsing his mother in the galley through one of the tiny portholes. She seemed to delight in pushing the little space to it's limit, turning out impressive (if small) meals with only a 2-burner gas stove, toaster oven, and a half-sized refrigerator.

"Diner's soon!" she called up from the galley. "Can you set us up?"

"You got it!" He called back down. He busied himself with setting up the 2 folding chairs and small card table on the back deck before hefting an old cheap radio he'd found when he first bought the boat up into the captain's chair. This far from civilization it was tough to get reception, so he spent some time fiddling with the antenna, trying to find any signal at all. Finally he found a soft rock station and deemed it good enough, even though the signal lapsed into static occasionally.

When he turned back around his mother was out of the galley, carrying a couple of paper plates piled high with spaghetti. She was wearing a faded yellow sundress, apron tied around the waist and sleeves pushed up to her elbows. She carefully slid the flimsy plates onto the table as he took his seat and plucked a plastic fork from the bunch that was stuffed into the red solo cup in the center of the table. A roll of paper towels balanced next to the makeshift silverware caddy made the lowbrow table settings complete.

Well almost. "Whoops!" she said, bouncing back out of her chair. "Almost forgot." She retreated back into the galley and emerged with the bottle of wine from the airport gift shop and a couple more cups. "Thought this might go nice with the meal. Be a dear and open it will you?"

He smiled and took it from her, turning it over in his paws. It was a twist top. Classy. He opened it and poured her a cup, splashing some in his own. "Would madame like to smell the cork?" he joked, proffering the plastic twist top to her.

She looked down at her dress, tugging the apron off and folding it up on the table "I don't think I'm dressed nice enough for this restaurant," she joked. "Too high-society for me."

He took a sip of the wine "Nonsense. You look nice."

She blushed a little, taking a sip herself. "How nice of you to say, son." she swirled the wine a little in the plastic cup. "A woman likes to hear that now and again." She motioned to his plate. "Dig in!"

And so they did. The sauce was from a jar but she had jazzed it up with some spices and crushed red peppers, giving it a little kick that was soothed and complimented by the dryness of the red wine. Before they knew it they had both finished their plates, and most of the wine. He felt a little light-headed and warm, realizing he had consumed quite a few cups of the potent stuff. During the course of the meal the sun had all but gone down, and the trees had become silhouettes surrounding the boat on either side of the river. The radio above oozed soft music over them, reception improving with the nightfall. He plugged in the Christmas lights, giving everything on the deck a soft, multi-colored glow. His mother was saying something. "What?" he managed, a little woozy.

"I said, how long do you plan to stay out here?" she asked. "Are you going to go back and finish up college?" she smiled. "Or are you going to be one of those crab fisherman like on television?"

Foster shrugged noncommittally. He thought, briefly, about the golden-furred lion he'd left behind at school, representing a path he wasn't sure he was going to explore further. "I'm...I'm not sure. I might wait a few years." Until he's graduated and moved on, he added to himself. His parent's scandalous divorce wasn't the only thing he was trying to clear his head about. "What about you?"

She smiled mischievously, "I don't think I'm cut out to be a crab fisherman.".

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean, mom." he covered up his embarrassment with another swallow of wine. "When are you planning to go back to the City?"

She looked down, toying with a few strands of pasta on her plate."I don't think I'm going back."

Foster raised his eyebrows, surprised. "But I thought you liked it there."

"That was before."

"Before the divorce? I thought you had plenty of fr-"

"Before, Foster." She snapped. She paused, considering. Then it came out in a rush: "Before the arrest. Before the hearings. Before the well-meaning lawyers oozed out of the woodwork to help cash in on the fortune your father and I made together." She didn't sound angry, just worn down, and maybe a little muzzy from the wine. Still, her words had an edge to them. "The settlement meant both of us would have enough money for the rest of our lives. And for a while I truly. Truly! Thought that's all I'd need." She sighed, swirling the last swallow of wine in her red plastic cup. "Everyone we knew...they knew. About the drunk hit-and-run. About him getting pulled over a few blocks later with that...that fox in his car. His mistress instead of his wife." Her voice thickened, ears laying back. "There's only so many high-class parties and events, even in a big city like that. And when I met the people I thought were our friends, I found out they were just his friends." She laughed derisively. "I was too stupid to see it at first. But then it dawned on me: they must have known about that little fox all along. And the gallery openings and theatre premiers I was going to were the same ones he was going to before. Only with that little vixen on his arm."

And so he asked the one question he'd always wanted to. His voice sounded, to his ears, calm, but that ember of anger burned in the back of his brain. "And how long did your know?"

She swallowed the last of her drink, cupping it in both her paws to hide the shaking. "It happened slowly, over a lot of years." Tears welled up in her amber eyes, which shone like gimlets in the soft multi-colored glow, "First emotionally, and then physically." She swiped a paw across her cheeks, and he realized his mother was crying. "In the end everything sort of...just dried up. He hadn't held me in years." She choked back a sigh "Or a-anything else."

Sitting across from her, he saw her again as not just his mother, but as a lost soul. The spiteful ember within him dissolved, and in its place he felt nothing but shame at the distance he'd put between them. "Mom..." he breathed, voice cracking as he reached out for her. He grabbed her paws in his, and in a moment they were both standing (the table carelessly bumped in the process, the empty wine bottle rolling off onto the deck) and falling into a deep embrace. They clung to each other under the gentle glow of the Christmas lights while soft rock muttered from the tiny radio, two souls on the tiny deck of a little boat in a small river in the middle of nothing with the huge bowl of stars wheeling above them, mother and son.

She buried her muzzle in his chest, "That was the worst part." she said, "He didn't want me anymore. A-and first I thought it was just his work." His shirt was damp from the tears. "I was fooling myself, and I knew I was fooling myself but I couldn't stop. . And I thought maybe I could get him back, you know?"

His paw stroked along the top of her head, trailing down to the nape of her neck. "Shh..it's ok." He murmured.

She hugged him tight, eyes squeezed shut. "I remember him coming home one late once, a-and I...tried to make love to him. To get him to respond." Foster's cheeks flushed a little at his mother's frank discussion of sex. "First with my paws...th-then with my mouth." She shuddered in his arms. "I could taste her down there. And when he pushed me off, I knew it was over." She balled up her hands in fists, shaking. "I felt so ugly. So useless."

"How long ago...was that?" he finally managed, feeling the conversation had veered into the unreal. He shook his head, "It doesn't matter. Look, mom, you are beautiful. And it was a shitty thing to do to you." He tilted her muzzle up till her eyes met his. "You're safe here, and you're loved." He felt his emotions swelling. "I'll take care of you."

She managed a smile, wiping a tear. She heaved a shaky sigh, leaning her head against his chest again. "I needed that."

So he held his mother, and she held him. The last song drifted to an end on the radio, and then a sudden rat-a-tat-tat of a tight snare drum leading to a crash of guitars like a wave meeting the shore...dissolving to soft church organ chords over a laid-back reggae back beat. It was a song from his high school days, remade a few years ago by some other band. The night, the emotions, the wine all worked their cumulative magic as the two began to sway, ever so gently, to the solemnly sweet sound.

"Whenever I'm alone with you," sang the radio "You make me feel like I am home again..."

She pulled away, a little buzzed from the wine. "You're so kind." she murmured, a small smile on her muzzle. She kissed his cheek, still swaying with the music, relaxing against him.. She kissed him again, this time on the corner of his mouth. He looked down, awoke from his own personal reverie, in time for her lips to meet his in a tender, passionate kiss.

"Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again..." His eyes widened a bit. "Mmmf?" he managed, feeling her tongue dance briefly against his lips before slipping past to mingle with his own. She tilted her head to one side, cupping his cheek in her paw, her eyes half-lidded as she pressed against him needfully. The sun had fully set now, and the night grew colder as shadows wreathed the deck. She was warm against him in their little pool of light. He felt himself begin to respond to her warmth, her scent, her closeness. Neither of them had been so entwined with another in years, and despite the boundary of mother and son (or maybe because of it) biology began to have it's inevitable way.

He remembered pushing her back gently, breaking the kiss, fumbling for something to say. "Mom, I don't-"

It was her turn to hush him softly, her breathing a little hurried. "However far away," sang the radio as her paws trailed down his side, "I will always love you," her reaching between them, gently tracing the growing firmness she found there. "I however long I stay, I will always love you." Her delicate paws now undoing the clasp on his pants, his thighs breaking out in gooseflesh as his furred sheath was exposed. "Whatever words I say,"

"I will always love you."

"I will always love you."

The crash of guitars again as she stepped back from their embrace, shrugging out of the straps on her sundress. She hooked her paws on the top and tugged, pulling the dress down and freeing the swell of her breasts from its fabric. His eyes were immediately drawn to her slightly sagging mounds, soft pink aureola swaying gently as she moved in the rhythm of the song, tail undulating sinuously behind her. She reached forward, running a paw along the underside of his shaft, coaxing his thickening manhood from its sheath. She smiled at him, licking her lips and muzzle in anticipation."Do you like what you see?" she asked, "Does this turn you on?"

"Y-yesss..." he moaned, confused, frightened, excited. She squatted before him, still rocking gently with the beat, her breasts swinging pendulously, her paw pushing his sheath back to expose the fullness of his cock. For a moment the glistening skin was cool in the night air, but the chill was replaced with a blossoming warmth as she took him into her mouth, eyes far away and soft. "Oh." he gasped. "Oh. Mom...Wait I-"

"Don't..." she sighed. "Don't say no to this," her paw sliding up, running a rough thumb pad underneath the head of his cock, causing him to buck involuntarily in her grip. "You need this. We both need this." She began to jack him gently, kissing along the side of his swollen member. "Don't you dare."

He closed his eyes, reeling with the surreal-ness of the situation as his mother began to give him a slow, sloppy blowjob. On some level it was strange...and kind of awkward. He didn't know exactly what to do with his paws as she pleased him, settling for drawing them up against his chest. With every suck, every wet slurp he heard from below, he rose up a little on his hind legs, arching his back instinctively. The pleasure began to build in his loins, clouding rational thought.

His mother leaned back, lips wrapped tenderly around the head of his swollen cock, and brought her paws up on either side of her newly freed breasts, pressing his rod between them. She massaged his length expertly, sliding her furred bounty along the shaft in a sensual pumping motion. Foster gazed down his chest, transfixed at the sight of his cock sliding in between her tits, the head peeking between her cleavage as she stroked him off with her heated body. She caught his eyes with hers, smiling up at him. "Does my little joey like that?" she asked in a breathy, sultry voice. "Does it feel good baby?"

The kangaroo turned his gaze to the heavens, moaning with pleasure. He looked through the strung-up cheeriness of the Christmas lights at the stars wheeling overhead, thoughts spinning, pleasure building. "It d-does, mom," he managed at last. "I...I think I'm c-close..."

He felt her shift beneath him again, and the heavenly stroke of her pressed-together breasts was replaced with a firmer grip on the swollen base of his rigid cock. "Then let momma take care of her little buck." She whispered, stroking him forward slowly, then faster, then faster still. He looked away from the stars, down again at her, and saw she had curled her own tail up over her now, bunching her dress at the small of her back, knees spreading slightly. One paw tugged at his cock, the other disappearing between her now spread thighs. The realization that she was pleasuring herself while she brought him off was the final straw, and he whined pitifully, gritting his teeth.

"Oh god." He moaned, "oh fuck..." she sensed his closeness and leaned forward, wrapping her heavenly muzzle around him yet again, paws firmly working the both of them at the same time. She bobbed her head fiercely; uck-uck-uck. He rose up on his hind-paws, ass clenched, tail standing straight out behind him quivering, For one fuzzy, panicked second he thought he wasn't going to be able to come, that his body just wasn't going to comply...

The final jerk of his hips caught him by surprise, sending the first spurt of seed into his mother's plunging muzzle in a burst of ecstasy that made him dizzy. She pulled him out of her mouth, jaws half-open, tongue cradling the head of his cock as she looked up at him, paw urging him on with firm, sharp strokes. He looked back down, meeting her eyes, helpless as another surge of pleasure sent a thick, ropy stream against the roof of her mouth.

It had been a long time, maybe too long since he'd felt the touch of another woman, and it felt as if he had oceans of his juices saved in his tightening ball-sack. Now that the dam had burst, the flood didn't seem to let up as he teetered between the bliss of release and the knowledge that his own mother was the architect of it. No matter what his mind may of thought of the moment, her soft, firm ministrations and wet, welcoming muzzle spoke to his body in a way that he'd never felt with another female before. Another thunderclap of pleasure wracked his frame and he grunted involuntarily, feeding her more of his seed.

The two remained posed in that passionate tableau for a while; two figures awash in the riot of colors from the hundreds of colorful bulbs strung everywhere, one crouched in front of the other, the frantic, gobbling climax giving way to soft, languid strokes as he eventually softened, leaving a sticky trail as he slipped from her grasp. The song, now forgotten, had ended a while ago, replaced with the soft murmur of an overnight dj reading the next day's weather report.

She withdrew her paw from herself, holding them both up to him. "Help an old lady up," she joked, "Please." He lifted her to her feet, and for a moment there was a silence between them as they both covered themselves up once more, him stuffing himself back into his pants, her pulling her sundress up and shouldering the straps. She wrapped her arms around him again, nuzzling against the hollow of his jaw. His paws settled on the small of her back, both of them a little damper and sweatier than before.

She gave him a peck on the lips, disengaging from the embrace. "I need to freshen up a little bit." she said, slipping past him. She gestured at the remains of their dinner left forgotten on the little table. "Can you clean up here? I'm going below."

"Sure." he rasped, clearing his throat a bit. "I got this."

She paused in the doorway of the galley with her back turned, her body silhouetted in the yellow glow of the light from below, her thick tail swaying hypnotically from her full, mature hips. "It's getting colder out here." she called over her shoulder. "You might get sick. You should spend the night inside where it's warm."

And with that she disappeared below decks, leaving him to gather the paper plates and plastic cups, trying to make sense of what had happened, and puzzling over what was to come.