My Son, My Love
He responded using my own words; “I aim to please.”
We both laughed; me a little weakly. I knew that Brendan must have been in a state of extreme arousal so, gathering my remaining energy I got him over on his back again and sat astride him.
Our coupling was even more extensive on this occasion and for a long time I sat still over him, his penis in me to its full length, just enjoying the union as we talked.
After he had ejaculated into me we were both sated for the time being. We had enjoyed the most intimate physical union possible between a man and a woman. The development of our sexual intimacy over the past few days seemed to have established, or perhaps re-established, an immensely powerful bond between us.
It was late morning and withdrawing from him I decided that I should shower him again, and myself. Although Frank was not due home for several hours I did not want to risk him smelling the aftermath of sex on us.
After showering I began to prepare lunch for us, and my mind continued to dwell on Frank. He had not approached me for sex for over a week, and in the growing exhilaration of my sexual contact with Brendan, I had not fully considered the consequences for my marriage.
I had no doubts about my ability to sexually cope with both Frank and Brendan. Even in the early days of our sexual contact Frank had never been able to give me all I needed, and privately I had held to the view that a sexually potent woman needs more than one man to satisfy her.
I had experienced the most gratifying sex with Brendan I had ever known and I had no desire for it to stop. On the other hand, I did not want to lose my marriage, yet that was the risk if I continued with my son. At some time Frank might find out.
A further thought that came to plague me was the fact, not only of adultery, but incestuous adultery. Was I really an utterly depraved woman?
I had read and seen on the internet, stories of people whose lives had been warped by incestuous relationships. Was I damaging Brendan’s life through what we were doing?
After lunch Brendan decided on an afternoon nap and I decided to begin scouring the internet for information on incest, especially mother and son incest.
At first I found only the negative sites on the subject, but most of these seemed to involve fathers and daughters, uncles and nieces and even grandfathers and granddaughters. In almost every case the girl had been forced or seduced into the sexual act. Mother and son incest did not seem to figure to any great extent, apart from the erotic literature sites, which after all, were mainly fictional fantasy.
I searched further, and eventually began to find sites where people wrote of their incestuous experiences in a positive vein. I focused on mothers and sons, and discovered that some of the most exquisite sexual relationships possible took place between them.
The reports on these relationships came from both mothers and sons and I found that sometimes they began when the mother seduced the son, or even when the son raped the mother. However they started, they found something they had longed for. The powerful bond I had found with Brendan was something that many relating their stories bore witness to.
Thus far I had discovered that if I was depraved, I was part of a lot of other depraved women who enjoyed their sons. My research also revealed that in many cases the woman was knowingly shared by both husband and son, and even engaged in a troika with them. Other women had managed to keep the relationship with her son secret from the husband. Yet others had been discovered and the marriage ended, and the woman continued to co-habitat with her son.
The variety of situations in which the mother/son incestuous relationship occurred was bewildering in its complexity, but at least I found out that very satisfactory sexual relationships could be established between mothers and sons, to the enhancement, rather than to the detriment of their lives.
Somewhat reassured if a little overwhelmed by the amount information I had received, I decided that all being well with Brendan, our sexual relationship would continue.
That night came a time of testing. As Frank got into bed with me he began kissing me with increasing fervour. His hand reached for my breast, and I knew what he wanted. I wondered if I would be able to respond with any degree of enthusiasm, but when his fingers began to explore my vagina, there was no doubt. I was lubricating copiously and began caressing his penis.
Frank has a way of flaring suddenly into action, and he took hold of me and pulled me to him so I was sitting across his face. His tongue began exploring my vagina and I started to make the slight flicking movements he loved so much.
Before I could come he flung me on my back and began sucking and biting my nipples with increasing frenzy. I begged him to enter me, and he thrust in deep. I was amazed and thankful that after so much sex with Brendon I was still able to respond to Frank.
I felt his moment for ejaculation approaching; l released the orgasm I had been holding back and we came together. The only disconcerting thing was, at the height of my orgasm I was fantasising Brendon. I managed to stifle just in time the desire to call out his name.
Frank’s ejaculation was neither as long nor fervent as Brendon’s, but I secretly consoled myself that in the morning I would be making love with my son again, I hoped.
Frank had always been considerate, and he stayed with me until I had finished the aftershocks of my orgasm. As he rolled away from me and settled to sleep, I was thankful that I had now discovered I could indeed handle two men sexually. “Perhaps more,” I thought mischievously.
I slept rather well that night.
Next morning I anticipated that after the previous days copulating Brendan might not be as enthusiastic. I was wrong. When it came time to wash Brendan he had a throbbing erection ready and waiting for me before I even touched him.
Clearly we both expected that we would make love at the earliest possible moment. Nothing was said, but as soon as his wash was over he headed for my bedroom and bed, complete with a pre-cum dripping penis, the poor boy.
I was wet with lubricant myself so for our first coupling I made no delay but sat astride him and after a few sharp movements on my part he heaved a massive load of sperm into me.
I disappeared briefly into the bathroom again and washed his discharge out of me, and he was ready and waiting for me again.
I must admit to some amazement that he seemed to be able to replenish his semen so quickly. Frank had never been able to recover from a discharge into me so speedily.
I kissed Brendan and longed to feel his arms about me but since this was impossible in his condition, I stored that idea away for our future. Nearly all movement and positioning depended on me, and when Brendan pleaded, “Let me suck your nipples, mother,” I made the move to bring a nipple to his mouth, all the time longing to feel his hands caressing my breasts.
He seemed to want to suckle me for a long time, and in the end I almost came as he did this, but holding back I took a risk.
Placing his arms as close to his sides as possible, I managed to sit across his face for him to give me oral sex. Actually it worked out very well. I virtually had complete control over the situation and could place my vagina and clitoris just where I wanted. It proved to be the best position I had ever received oral sex in.
My orgasm came in a screaming upsurge, shaking me more violently than ever before. I soaked Brendan’s face with my discharge and as soon as I had passed the pinnacle of my climax I pulled away from him and began to lick his face, tasting my own lubricant.
Not satisfied with that, I sucked his penis still wet and redolent of our combined emissions. I had never experienced this before, always feeling a sense of revulsion at the idea, but with Brendan it drove me to the frenzied edge of another orgasm.
Brendan was crying out, “I’m going to come…I’m going to come,” so I took the full flood of his discharge into my mouth, or at least, as much as I could.
I kissed him, forcing some of his semen into his mouth and then, with his penis now partially flaccid, I managed to get a partial penetration from him, and working up and down on him gave my self another orgasm.
It had been the most fervent and lustful hour I had ever known, and we were both temporarily pooped. I dropped down beside him and fell into a doze.
When I came too about half an hour later the smell of our copulating seemed to pervade the room. I decided that what we needed then was a wash and then some sustenance.
We both made our way to the bathroom and cleaned ourselves up, and putting on a dressing gown I made my way to the kitchen to prepare lunch.
I knew there was little point in helping Brendan to dress since it was quite clear the clothes would have to come off again, so I told him to stay on the bed and I would bring lunch to him. I wasn’t sure how much he would eat because I saw that already he had yet another erection.
As it happened, he did manage to spare the time to eat, and by the same token, allowed me to get some food down.
After lunch, in the early afternoon, we had a far less frenzied coupling. I did not time it, but I think we must have been joined to each other for at least an hour, and that does not include such foreplay as we could manage with his useless arms.
As I sat astride him, often not moving, Brendan spoke again of making me pregnant. This time I was more open about it.
“Darling, I’m on the pill, so the chances of my getting pregnant are very slight.”
“Couldn’t you go off the pill?”
That had me troubled. I had heard that babies born of incestuous relationships were often deformed or defective in some way. I put this to him and he went silent for a while.
I broke the silence: “Brendan, if I became pregnant, would you be prepared to bear the responsibility, or would you expect your father to believe he had impregnated me?”
He still remained silent for a while, and then said, “I honestly don’t know.”
“Then be content with what we have, my darling.”
I began to move on him more quickly, feeling another orgasm coming on within me, and sensing he was ready to ejaculate again.
We came together and as I felt his sperm spurting into me I must admit I wanted it to fertilise me.
Brendan’s arms eventually were released from their casts and at last he could make love with me as a man and woman should.
I returned to my night shift nursing work and Brendan to his studies. I had wondered if once liberated from his casts and socialising more freely, Brendan would cease to have sexual interest in me.
Having experienced sex with him several times a day I had become more rather than less eager for him; so it was much to my relief I found he was more ardent than ever. The problem was he was keener than ever that I should become pregnant to him. At the same time I felt more acutely that I wanted him to fertilise me. I sought after the fulfilment of our love, and as he shot his seed into me I found myself thinking, “What a waste of beautiful baby making semen.”
I have looked up on the net the experiences of women who have given birth to children as a result of sexual intercourse with their sons. The messages are mixed. Some have given birth to the most beautiful children. Others have had unfortunate experiences.
I am still considering whether or not I shall go off the pill and try to have the child we both want so dearly, but given that I am having sex with both Frank and Brendan, how would I know who had impregnated me? As I see it, I would have to deter Frank from copulating with me for a few weeks to be sure the child was Brendan’s.
Another factor is my age. I know the risks of having a child in my forties even though I am extremely fit and healthy; in fact, since starting to have sex with Brendan I think I have felt fitter than at any other time in my life. I am sure it is not just the physical exercise involved in sexual intercourse; it is also a psychological factor. I feel a deep contentment – the contentment that arises from knowing how deeply I am loved and desired.
It is time to take my contraceptive pill now and I am hesitating. If I stop taking it now it will be a while before I can get pregnant.
Brendan will arrive home shortly and he is sure to want to make love with me. Shall I take the pill or take a chance?