Pharaoh's Taboo Gift

"At a guess, I would bet that there were quarters for the priestesses back there." Zahira waved a hand. "And that the people who lived here didn't waste a drop. Drinking, cooking, cleaning, washing, I bet that once we have a chance to study this place properly, we'll see how there was an entire cycle of how the water was used.

"As far as how it got here," she added, as she started to unbutton her blouse, "there are several groundwater oases in the area. This is probably another one. Small, yes. But large enough for a dozen or so people to live on, and whatever worshippers might visit."

Chris nodded, then turned his back. Behind him he could hear the faint rustle of clothes as his mother undressed.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you going to get undressed? It's going to be hard to take a bath with your clothes on."

He shrugged. "When you're done, yeah."

"Chris." Even with his back turned, he could sense the way his mother was rolling her eyes. "We're inside a temple in the middle of the desert. There's no one around for twenty miles in any direction. And I don't think that you've never seen a naked woman before." Her voice sharpened. "So can you stop acting silly and get undressed? The pool is big enough for two, and the more time we waste bathing, the less time I have to actually do what we came out here to do."

There was no arguing with his mother when she took that tone of voice. Sure, Chris could refuse, and then they would be locked in a battle of wills that would leave them both losers.

And there was also the shameful, sneaking desire. What he didn't want to admit even to himself. That he wanted to see his mother naked again.

So Chris kicked off his shoes and pulled his t-shirt up over his head. In less than a minute, his pants and socks had joined them on the floor.

"All right," he said, turning around and shoving his boxers down to his feet. "Have it your way."

"I intend to," his mother smiled.

Chris caught his breath. Candlelight shone on the curves of his mother's body, making her appear as if she had been gilded in gold leaf. Her black haired tumbled in waves around her shoulders and her chest. Thankfully, it covered her breasts. But there was no hiding the womanly cleft between her legs, or the rapt look in her eyes as she gazed deep into the waters of the pool.

With a slow, graceful motion, she stepped in. Water covered her leg to the shin. And then another, and the opposite leg was bathed to the knee.

"There's steps here," Zahira said happily. "Oh, that makes things easier. This must have been a ritual bathing pool. Think about it," she said, as she immersed herself completely. Standing, the water reached the bottom of her ribcage. "A person comes out here to worship. But before they can, they have to be shriven." Her voice went low, almost chanting. "Purified. Sanctified. Water has always been seen as a cleansing force in religion. They step out of the sacred pool and..."

"And what?" Chris asked, when the silence had become almost unbearable.

His mother smiled at him. "Well, that's what we are to find out, isn't it?" She held out a hand to him, water dripping off her fingers. "Come in, my child."

Luckily, by concentrating on his mother's voice, Chris had been able to keep his body's instinctive rection to a naked woman from occurring. As the warm water closed around his legs, his cock felt fat and heavy. But was not, thank every god in Egypt, erect. The flagstones of the pool were gritty under his feet, and he thought he could sense the faint pressure of water welling up between them. What a miracle it must have seemed. This gift of water in the desert.

Averting his eyes from his mother's naked chest, he began to scrub himself down, using soap from Zahira's bag. Part of him felt vaguely guilt about dirtying the waters of the pool. But the soap and grime was quickly carried off in the channels, and pure clean water appeared from below to take its place.

"Ah, this is good," he sighed. There was something deeply, intensely satisfying about being clean.

"It sure is." His mother turned, pulling her hair over her shoulder so her back was bare. "Wash my back?"

"I..."

A cake of soap was slapped into his hand. "Just do it, Chris."

He pressed his lips together, but lathered up his hands and began to soap her back. Her skin was soft and warm, unlined by age. "Oh, that's good," she sighed. "A little higher, please? There's a spot that I can never quite reach. Yes. Right there." Her voice sank into a sigh, redolent of hedonistic pleasure.

To Chris' shame and mortification, he felt himself growing aroused. The feel of his mother's soap-covered skin under his fingers, the warm water lapping around his waist, the small purring sounds she made as he washed her, all made his body grow hot and tense. Unbidden, his cock stiffened, until the tip was poking above the surface of the water.

His eyes looked down. Even through the water, he could see the cleft of his mother's buttocks. And near there, he knew, was the place that could make him feel the greatest ecstasy a male could achieve. God, it was so tempting. Just inches away! He could rub himself against her, make her know how much he wanted her. What could possibly be more right, more natural?

His hands had stopped moving. With a gasp that was almost painful, he pulled them away from Zahira's waist and splashed water over himself, washing away the soap on his arms and chest.

"All done," he said. His voice was a hoarse croak.

"Not quite." The goddess in front of him moved to the side of the pool, uncapping a glass bottle. "Now the oil."

"Oil?"

"It's for my skin." She poured a healthy dollop into her palm and began to rub it into her front. The candlelight gleamed on her body. "Too hot, too dry out here. If I don't take care of myself, in a few days my skin will look like an old baseball glove." She held his eyes calmly as she began to massage her breasts. "And a woman needs to look beautiful, Chris."

He stared at her. His stomach was queasy with desire, his skin breaking out in goosebumps as his body warred with his mind.

"Oh, dear." A soft smile curled Zahira's lips as she looked down. "You're hard, Chris." She took a tiny step closer to him, water rippling around her waist. "For me?"

Hard? The word was meaningless. He wasn't just hard. He was rigid, aching with desire. He had never been more consumed with lust in his life. "Who else could it be?" he whispered.

"Who knows?" Very slowly, his mother reached out and clasped the stiff bar of his cock in her fingers. "You could have been thinking about an old girlfriend. A lover. Some sexy woman from the movies or television. Maybe even Sabah. Your sister is a lovely young woman, you know."

"I know." He jerked a nod, barely able to control his muscles as her fingers explored him with loving curiosity.

Closing his eyes, he gave in to his destiny. "It was you, Mom. You're so gorgeous, so sexy. And it's been a long time since I...you know. Had sex."

"You think I'm sexy?" He watched, disbelieving, as his mother's nipples peaked. "Oh, sweetie." Her grip on him tightened. "That makes me so happy. And you," she continued, her light, teasing voice belying the dark fire in her eyes, "are an extraordinarily handsome young man. So tall." She stood on tiptoe, brushing his cheek with her lips. "So strong." Her other hand caressed the water-speckled hairs of his chest, then dipped to stroke his rear.

"It's been a long time for me, too," she whispered. "But this place..." She cast a look around at the erotic carvings on the wall, their forms half-revealed, half-shadowed by the wavering candlelight. "It makes me want to do things I've never done before. With people who I would never have done them. Like you."

He choked on a laugh. "Me?"

"You." Her hand moved to his chest, tracing an invisible pattern. "Chris, this might sound a little silly, but will you...worship me?

"I need a man," she continued as he stared. "But I don't just want sex. I could get that from almost anyone. I know I look good. But I want more. Need more." Her look turned inward, pensive. "I want to be treated as a woman should be. Where sex isn't something cold and impersonal. But a rite. A sacrament." Her eyes hooded as she stared at his erection. "Holy."

"Mom." He thought of and discarded a dozen answers. "I will do anything for you. You know that." He took her hand with shaking fingers. "And if it makes you happy, I'll do anything you want me to."

"Do you mean that?" Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were sharp. "Or is that just sweet-talk so you can get your dick wet?"

Chris snickered. "My dick is already wet. But," he said, somehow sensing that now was not the time for making jokes, "I'll do anything you want."

Dark fire smoldered in the depths of Zahira's eyes. "Anything?"

He nodded. "Anything."

She looked deep into his eyes, as if she were examining his soul. At last she nodded. "Very well. Hold still."

"What..." His voice trailed off as she set her fingers across his lips. With her other hand she reached out to pick up the glass bottle of oil.

"Be thou sanctified," she whispered as her fingers glided across his chest. The feel of the slick oil on his skin was pleasant, and his nose picked up a faint hint of cedar and citrus.

"Be thou blessed." A nudge of her shoulder moved him to the shallow end of the pool, and Chris gasped aloud as she anointed his shaft with oil. Her hands were tender, gentle, but he could sense the urgency beneath, the heady pleasure she took at his body's obvious arousal.

"Be thou mine," she murmured, and now her mouth was on him, her tongue darting out to taste the skin at the hollow of his throat, at the angle of his neck.

With a movement that was all womanly grace, she lifted herself out of the pool. Water sheeted down her body as she sat on the lip, clinging to the ends of her hair, the tips of her nipples, the curve of her hips.

Chris felt his mouth go dry with want. If he had been watching this on his laptop, his cock would have already been in his hand. "My God, Mom."

"Your goddess, you mean."

"Huh?"

"Never mind." She gave her head a quick, impatient shake, and spread her legs. "Come here, my child. And worship me. I want to feel your mouth on my nethers, to feel your tongue on my lips."

Oral sex. With my mother. In an abandoned temple. In Egypt. Sure. Why not? Chris fought a hysterical urge to break out into mad laughter. But the look in Zahira's eyes told him this was no joke.

So he put his hands on his mother's thighs, knelt on the floor of the pool, bent his head, and kissed the soft brown skin of her inner leg.

One kiss. And then another. Her flesh was firm, underlaid with a faint scent that could be the bathing-oil, or her own aroma, or the musk of her arousal. Opening his mouth, he began to sweep his tongue up and down her inner thigh, every stroke drawing him nearer her cleft. And when Zahira hitched and gasped above him, her body moving in slow, rippling waves, he moved to the other leg, repeating his caresses. Every time he neared her cleft, he backed away, teasing her with soft, open-mouth kisses that made his mother roll her cleft towards him.

"You dare," she gasped. One hand tangled in the hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer. "You are supposed to worship me, foolish boy, not torment me!"

Can't I do both? But in response to the grip on his hair, he moved closer and closer, until his lips were a hair's breadth away from his mother's pussy. The angle was awkward, but that was easily fixed. Chris slid his hands under Zahira's bottom, lifted her, and fastened his mouth on her hot, slick lips.

"Oh, fuck!"

As she teased and flirted with her son, Zahira found herself merging with Hatshepsut.

Or, perhaps, it would be better to say that their goals had become the same. The sight of Chris' strong young body inflamed senses and desires that she had thought long-dead. Or, at the very least, dormant. His body, his chiseled physique, and especially his rock-hard staff, rising from the water like a fantasy made flesh. Yes, he was her son. And they were committing incest. But that didn't seem important. Not when compared to the reality of his eager manhood. The long-dead pharaoh who was sharing her mind had practically drooled over her son, her demands that she seduce him diminishing to needy whimpers as she touched him. Zahira, in turn, had found herself taking command, using words that spilled easily from her lips, even as they sounded strange in her own ears.

But they seemed to have the desired effect. And when Chris set his mouth on her pussy, his strong tongue splitting her lips, the cry of pleasure which pierced the air of the temple came from one mouth but two minds.

~Oh, he is skilled, Hatshepsut sighed wantonly, as her son held her rear above the basin's stone lip. I know women who would have paid gold to add him to their households. And when their husbands were away, he would have been summoned to please them in the bedchamber. 'Chris,'~ she pondered. ~Such a dull name. Why that, when your daughter's is so pleasing to the ear, as well as your own?~

It was the name of his father's father, Zahira replied. His family was of a different race, and it suited me to allow him to name his son after his own people.

~Hah.~ Hatshepsut's voice was mildly irritated, though her habitual ill-temper was being swayed by her son's gentle assault on her pussy. ~Twould have been better if you had set down your foot and reminded him whose will ruled in your home.~

Hush. Zahira shivered happily as her son's tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot, and purred her pleasure. Carefully, she eased herself back until she was propped up on her elbows. You're getting what you want. What we both want.

~I am.~ Hatshepsut's voice chuckled, dark and replete. ~Though I'm not satisfied yet.~

Neither am I. Zahira stared down between her spread legs. Her son was an amazement. And not just with his skill at eating her pussy. Unlike some men (her husband, for one) he did not wrinkle up his nose in distaste at the task. Instead, he focused on her with a sort of single-minded devotion that was at once endearing and incredibly arousing. How long had it been, she thought, since someone had thought that pleasing her wasn't a chore, or something they had to do to in order to get laid themselves, but something rewarding in its own right? She closed her eyes, leaning back, concentrating on the lovely feelings flowing through her. Chris' tongue was soft and gentle, and when he licked the button of her clit (and how nice it was that she didn't have to give him directions) her core trembled, sending spikes of pleasure through her body.

~We could have him now.~

No. By damn, she was going to enjoy this. The strength was ebbing out of her, along with any desire to do anything else but feel. She sprawled flat on her back, her thighs spread wide, shamelessly wanton, and her hands kneaded her breasts, her fingers tugging the turgid nubs of her nipples as she humped her mound slowly up into her son's face. She was molten, melting, all thought wiped from her mind before the force of her impending climax. The only thing that mattered now was cumming.

"Oh, Chris, Chris baby," she sighed. Why had she denied herself this for so long? Her son was young, and virile, and would please her for years to come. Between his prodigious endowment, and her own experience and skill, she could not imagine how her life could be any better.

~Beloved, are you...~

Yes, she sighed. The signs were there, flickering through her body like stripes on a highway. She closed her eyes, then opened them again, wanting to see her son's face when she came to her peak. "Yes, Chris," she whispered. Her voice echoed back from the stone walls. The sculptures on the walls seemed to open their arms, welcoming her into their erotic embrace. "I'm going to cum. Going to cum all over your sweet face."

Her heels began to drum rapidly on the stone lip of the basin. Her hips lifted, locked, then bucked upward wildly. Chris fought to keep his mouth on the folds of her pussy, his hands gripping her hips. And then with a hoarse keen, she climaxed, ripples of sensual, erotic joy spreading through her body like the circles from a stone cast into a pool. A gush of liquid burst from her channel, coating Chris' face, and if she hadn't been caught in the transports of her orgasm, she would have giggled at the startled look on his face.

Slowly, how slowly, the tide of pleasure receded. Zahira stretched out on the cool stones, indolent as a sunbathing cat. The heat of her pussy was abated, but not quenched, and her breasts throbbed lazily, still eager for her lover's touch.

"Was that...did you..."

"It was," she smiled down at her son, still waist-deep in the bathing pool. "And I did." She stretched out her hand, wiggling her fingers in command. "Come out of there before you turn into a puny, wrinkly raisin."

He grinned and lifted himself out, water streaming down his thighs. Zahira was pleased to note that his long, thick erection had not subsided in the least. Though, unlike most men of her acquaintance, he seemed to have learned a measure of discipline. At the least, he didn't start humping away at her like a randy stallion.

"That was all right, wasn't it?" he asked, when he had sprawled out beside her. Zahira was happy to see that he had lost most of his earlier shyness.

She kissed him once. And then again, more lingeringly, her lips exploring his mouth. ~Yes. He will do nicely. A firm mouth, and strong. But willing to let us lead.~

Hush.

Chris put his hand on her hip. Quite willing to feel him all over, Zahira casually moved closer, until the tips of her breasts were almost touching his strong chest. "Mom?"

"Yes?"

"What was that, at the end?"

She smiled at him, tracing the curve of his lip with one finger. "What? You've never been with a girl who squirted before?" At the shake of his head, her smile widened. "Well, it's been a while for me, too. I used to have to be really excited for it to happen. So that can tell you a bit about how good you were at going down on me."

"Oh." He glanced down, embarrassed, but she could feel the warmth of his pride-filled flush. "It tasted...good," he admitted.

~The nectar of the gods,~ Hatshepsut said smugly. ~With, thanks to me, certain...aphrodisiacal...properties. He will be a tireless lover for you.~

Zahira smiled, accepting the pharaoh's gift. Though she didn't really think, at his age, that Chris would be needing any help where that was concerned. Indeed, his erection was a hard, throbbing presence against her thigh. "Poor boy," she whispered against his lips, kissing him warmly. "Does it hurt?"

"Hurt?" He blinked at her. "No, not really. Though...it has needs."

"For me?"

"Yes," he returned. He pulled her closer, until his cock was burning against the hollow of her belly. So big! Bigger than any man she had ever been with, including her son's father. Even Hatshepsut, with decades of lovers in one of the most decadent courts in the world, was forced to admit that Chris was...exceptional.

"Well." She threw a leg over his hips and straddled him. Her son groaned as the motion trapped his shaft between their bodies. "Let's do something about that."

She leaned down, cupping his face in her hands, and kissed him. As her tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting him, she drew her cleft up the length of her son's staff, groaning deep in her throat as her fat, flushed labia parted and her clitoris dragged along his pole. Her wetness coated him as she paused at the top, letting his cockhead nestle in her opening for a few seconds before she reversed the process. When she reached his base, she gave her hips a sudden twist, and just that alone was almost enough to make her cum again. Her clit, sensitive and throbbing with arousal, ground against his thick, rigid shaft.