Chapter 3
It must have been five o'clock before I finally fell to sleep, so it was not surprising I was groggy when I awoke at nine, still apprehensive. I staggered into the bathroom, trying to make sense of everything while I used the toilet and brushed my teeth. The ever-revealing mirror over the sink was not kind. The morning light flooding into the bathroom from the skylight in the ceiling was harsh. My wrinkles seemed more pronounced and the circles under my eyes were dark, and deep, as if worry had been forever etched into my skin. My attempts to comb my hair into perfect shape were halfhearted, and I took dejected steps back to the bed and pulled the covers over my head as if this action would somehow, miraculously, remove me from all my problems.
The sleep that followed was more resting and I awoke with a start at ten, becoming angry that Mark had not followed my orders. No matter what the outcome of our meeting, it was one I could not let slip by.
"Mark?" I shouted, and hearing no immediate answer, became impatient. "Mark!"
"I'm not dressed yet, Mother," I heard him yell from his bedroom.
"I don't care, Mark. We have to talk now!! "
His answer was one of resignation. "All right. I'll come right in."
A moment later, the door swung open and he stood in the doorway, looking uncertain as to what to do next. He was wearing the blue silk pajamas I had gotten him for his birthday. He had not shaved and his long hair look disheveled as it fell across his large sideburns. Instead of the proud squaring of his shoulders, they were hunched over as if he was weighted down with worry and concern over what would happen. Although I depicted an expression of anger there, too, there was more shame than anything else, and my heart went out to him immediately.
After all, he was my son, no matter what he had done. And after all, I was not perfect myself. In a way, because of what happened with William and me, I felt, for the first time in many years, a definite feeling of kinship. When I finally did speak, it was not with anger, but with compassion.
"Mark, come over here," I said, patting the bed beside me. "I just want to talk with you."
Stubbornly, he did not make a move.
"Look, I'm sorry I embarrassed you with your girlfriend last night, but I was just too shocked to do anything else. I just hadn't realized how much you had grown up."
"Well, now you know."
"Yes. Come over here, Mark."
"Well, all right, but.. . . "
"Just come here, Mark."
He scuffed his feet across the carpet and sat down on the side of the bed as I had indicated he should. Instead of looking directly at me, he looked out the window to my left. I could almost feel the many mixed emotions surging through him and I no longer wanted to chastise him. I just wanted to put my arms around him, and comfort him as I had done so many times when he was equally upset.
"There are many things I could say, but I think I ought to start out with an apology. I really didn't handle last night as well as I could have."
"No, you didn't," he said, still staring out the window.
"Sometimes it's hard for parents to realize their children have grown up."
"Guess so," he said, shifting his body weight and still avoiding looking at me. I did not like seeing him so upset and I wanted, desperately, to give him back some of the strength I knew he had. I reached up to his chin, ran my fingers across the stubble of his beard which made his cheeks look so dark.
"You're usually so clean-shaven, I even forget you have to use a razor."
"Been using it for three years."
"I know, dear. I guess I'm just one of those mothers who keep remembering all the years they spent babying their young ones. Do you remember?"
"I'm trying to forget it, Mother. I'm trying to be a man, now."
"I know that now, Mark. But I want you to understand where I'm coming from, too. I know you've grown up, but I see you other ways. I still see the little boy, too, that still needs to be taken care of."
"Mom...." Mark started, upset.
"Understand that, dear. Let me hold you like I did when you were younger."
Mark shook his head, gritting his teeth.
"Please, dear." I moved toward him, putting loving hands on his stiff shoulders, and pulling him toward me. At first, he resisted, but the gentle tug of my hands broke through his defenses, and he bent across me, letting me hold him with all the warmth and care I could. "I know how fast you're growing into manhood, and that you'll be with women you become attracted to. I don't mind that, Mark, but it is important to me that you realize that the love and concern I feel for you will sometimes make me over-react But I don't mean to embarrass you."
He relaxed, letting his breath out, and permitting me to comfort him like I had done so many times in the past, when he had been a child. The warm feel of his body felt as good as it ever had, and I sensed, from his relaxation, that it would all be all right, now. He had forgiven me and his own fingers dug into my shoulders as he returned my embrace. He started crying, just a little, just enough to let me know he, too, was relieved. Feeling the strength of his strong chest and stomach muscles also made me aware of something else. His body was lithe, and young, and even while holding him in such a motherly manner, I began to also realize I was responding to his maleness, too. The awareness made me uneasy, but I rationalized that, too. Damn Justin for being such a prig, for calling me a whore. I would never be having these feelings if he didn't put the thought into my mind. I suddenly wanted my son lying on the bed next to me and although the realization was a shock, it was not possible to snuff it out, to forget about it.
"Mark, lie down beside me, right next to the covers, dear. Give me some comfort, too."
"Well, okay, Mom, I'll do that, but I don't know...."
"Do it, Mark."
He lifted up and stretched his body out on the bed, next to mine and let me cradle his head in my arms. I had not held him like this since he had been eight or nine, and it was a wonderful feeling for me to know I could still give such comfort to my son.
"Do you remember when you were a young boy, Mark? When you were little?"
"Don't remember much of anything, Mom. Guess I'm too busy trying to figure out what life is all about."
"You don't remember all those times I used to give you my breast?"
"Mom!" he laughed, shocked.
I smiled at him, again, but it was not the smile of a mother. If he didn't remember, I did. I remembered all the times he had been on my bed and had so eagerly watched and waited for me to show him the breast I had in wait for him. Why it was that I wanted him to do that again, to pretend he was my little boy, needing milk, could only be explained perhaps by Masters and Johnson. But the feelings then and the feelings now were similar. Perhaps I had gotten so used to the feelings, and liked them so much, that I had never forgotten them. It started with the awareness that I was becoming damp between my legs and that, in my clitoris, there was the beginnings of the first gentle twitching of sexual desire. The ten months I had spent without sex, plus the explosive charge to my own sexuality I had gotten the night before, watching my son make love with his girlfriend, were beginning to overtake me. Justin's treatment of me had been no help to enable me to ignore the strong, mixed feelings I had. It was only for a minute that I argued with myself, that I chastised myself for being human, in addition to being a mother. Then, as if I had a Jeckle and Hyde personality, Hyde left and Jeckle took over. What did it really matter? All I wanted him to do was to suck on it, a little bit, just like he used to. Then, soon, I would stop him. At least, he would know what I was referring to. It would make him understand me more. And it might help him in the process he was undergoing to become a man.
"Honey, I'm going to do something, to refresh your memory. If you've forgotten, maybe you're repressing it. That's not good."
"What're you going to do?" Mark asked.
"Just what I did when you were younger. See if you remember."
I pushed him up from my chest and moved the covers down to my waist. Mark lay to my right, his head propped on his hand, watching me intently, a look of confusion spread across his features. Between my legs, the throbbing, the twitching gained in magnitude, causing everything I saw to become blurred, even my son. It was as if I was transported through a time machine to a point in time 14 years earlier.
"Here, honey, want this?" I slipped my hand underneath the cloth covering my left breast and began to massage it, moving it so there was no question as to what I was referring to. The cloth separated easily, making my naked breast available to his view. He watched it, stared at it and I could feel his body tense.
"Mom!" he exclaimed. "What're you doing?"
"It's all right, honey. Don't worry. We've done this before, when you were little. I just want you to remember. I don't want you to cover up anything, don't want you to forget about it. It's important, dear. Look at it, honey. And remember. Remember how you used to put your mouth on it, dear, how you used to suck on it?"
"But Mom, that's when I was a little boy. Fm nearly eighteen, now."
"Doesn't matter, sweetie. Don't you want to put your mouth on it, now?" I took my breast right out of the material barely covering it. He had not seen it for years, and his eyes widened along with the quickening of his breathing as his mouth closed and he continued to stare. When he spoke, his voice was low, tense.
"You want me to put my mouth on it?"
"Put your mouth on it, sweetie. Make your mother happy."
"But, Mom r
"Do it, dear. Now."
I thought I could not stand the wait as he so slowly bent across me, took my breast in his hand, opened his mouth and took hold of my nipple. The warmth of his tongue, of his hot breath warmed my entire body. I was only going to let him do it a little bit, until he could remember, but once it was in his mouth, he went wild and his mouth, lips, tongue started sucking, sucking, sucking on it, making the nipple taut and tight with desire. I once again experienced that magnificent feeling deep in the center of the nipple he was sucking on. For the first time in so many years, I again felt that wonderful excitement of my own son sucking his nourishment from me.
It was just like it had been before, once he got used to the idea of it, once he got into the rhythm of it, once he forgot everything else that had happened.
He was going at my breast fully as much as he ever had gone at it. His left hand cupped my other breast as he leaned across my chest, clutching my right breast in his hand while he licked my nipple into greater hotness, as his strong teeth closed gently onto it, as his mouth widened so he could take more of it in, as he swiped his tongue not only around my nipple, but around as much of my breast as he could reach.
"Remember now?"
He nodded, and my breast moved with his head. He sucked on it with at least as much intensity as he ever had, even when I had made him wait so long between feedings so he would be more eager.
"That's it, baby. That's it, Mark. Oh, that does feel good, you always made it feel so good when you did that."
He took my right breast out of its cloth confines, gripped the flesh until my boob was pointing in his direction and he could see how long my nipple had become in anticipation of receiving the feeling of his warm mouth on it. Still holding my left breast, kneading it, he switched his mouth from my left nipple to my right. It definitely felt like he was sucking a substance out of my breast into his mouth. It felt exactly as if I had milk in my breast that was oozing through my nipple hole and was being sacked into his mouth and he was swallowing it.
I pushed against the covers across my stomach, trying to force them down so I could feel more of my son's body pressing against me. He rolled back so he wasn't pinning the covers to me and I soon had them down low enough that, by raising my leg, I could push the covers nearly down to the end of the bed.
It was much better that way. Now, while he sucked first the nipple of one breast and then switched to the nipple of the other, I could feel the heat of his body from my shoulder to my feet. Just like when he had been three years old and he let his body roll against mine, only this time, I did not just feel a tiny little penis pressing against me for warmth and excitement, I felt that long, hard cock that had so intrigued me the night before.
He was excited. I had known that from the way he had started to go at my breasts, but now I knew that from the hardness that was pressing right into my thigh.
"I just want you to know how good you made me feel when you were a baby doing this, Mark. And I know now how good it must have felt to you!"
In answer, he quickened the movement of his tongue across my nipple and pressed his penis harder against my thigh. I reached down with my right hand, just like I had done when he was a little boy, and began to rub against his penis. How good it felt now, with it so big and hard. How huge a stick he had now!
I undid the tie of his pajamas, separated the material, and now my fingers could feel the roughness of his pubic hairs as they slipped through his forest until they could directly touch the large base of his staff. I ran my hand up and down it, just like I had done when he was a little boy and he had spread his legs to make my access easier. With his big, jutting prick, it was not necessary for him to spread his legs. Even as I held it, patted it, it seemed to get larger and it suddenly became as much an obsession as it had ever been to have him go at my breasts.
Generating between my legs was a hotness that was enveloping me from head to toes. The feeling happening in my breasts where he was sucking with such intensity, was extreme, and wonderful, but nothing quite seemed to match the equally charged feeling in my cunt, where my clitoris was throbbing so wildly and my vagina was already contracting with strong movements that drew the outer rim inward.
I had forgotten I was going to let him experience the feeling of sucking my breasts for just a few minutes.
My eyes felt as if they were going to fall right out at any moment from the pleasure I was feeling. It was not possible for me to stop what we were doing anymore. He was going so eagerly at my breasts, would suck on one nipple for a little bit and then eagerly take the other nipple in his mouth that he triggered me into maximum excitement and total oblivion to all else in the world.
I put my hand to the back of his head and pulled him onto my breast with all my might. For a brief moment, I thought he would take the entire breast in his mouth, and I am certain he would have if there had been room. I turned my body, feeling the top of his prick press against my groin, rub the material of my nightie against my pubic hairs. When I turned more, and spread my legs, his cockhead jutted between my vulva, pressing the material right into my cunt. The material dampened immediately and I frantically gripped my fingernails into my nightgown, trying to lift it so there would be no barrier between myself and my son at all.
It seemed like an eternity before I had the material up to my waist and my cunt was free to touch him directly. He was now as excited as I was and the little jabs of his buttocks forced his cockhead against me, again spreading my vulva. My quim lips closed onto his staff. His jabbing movements grated the top of his staff across my cunt membranes, until my own wetness coated it, and made his slide so much easier.
What was happening was the obvious answer to my dreams, the dreams I had previously not allowed myself to remember. And perhaps what we were doing was also the answer to at least some of my son's dreams.
Because he was in no way being passive any more. Still holding my breasts in his hands, he drew his head back. His face was red with excitement, his dark eyes meeting mine with the look of a man, not a boy.
"You're driving me insane, Mother," he said, and his voice was low, level, controlled.
"It feels good to me, too, Mark."
"But you don't understand, Mom. See, I can't do this without wanting to do more. I want to get between your legs. I want to put my prick in you, Mom. I want to fuck you. I'm sorry, Mom. I just can't help it."
I pulled his head to me and kissed him on the lips, driving my tongue inside his teeth, and circling his tongue ,with mine until I drew it inside my mouth and sucked on it like I was going to swallow it whole. He pushed his tongue deep into my mouth as he could. I turned my head, presenting him with my ear. He took the hint and began sliding his tongue around my earlobe, then driving the tip of it as deep in as possible. That feeling was so warm, so exciting, it was incredible.
"I can't help what I'm doing, either, Mark," I said, finally. "Why don't you get between my legs."
After the permission I gave him, he moved fast, sliding his body over my thighs and letting his cock rest right next to my cunt. As soon as I felt that hotness spread through me, I arched upward, for more heat.
"Oh, that's it, my little one, my fine one. Oh, that feels good, Mark. Press the tip against me, honey. Find my hole, honey."
Lifting up on his left elbow, Mark's right hand slipped between his abdomen and mine and I kept my legs spread wide as I could while his hand found the staff of his cock and he began to slide his cockhead up and down my cunt. Oh, God, what a feeling it was to have that hot warmth pressing into me, between my legs, from where he sprang. Oh, Christ, could I stand it before his great hunk of meat was up me, inside me?
Mark's breaths were coming so hot and heavy while he ground his cock head against me, I wasn't certain he could wait until he got it inside me. But I wanted him to be there.
"Wait, Mark. Your blood runs hot. Take your time. Relax. Take it easy. That way, we'll both have pleasure, honey."
He leaned across me while he caught his breath and the cockhead still pressed into my cunt was throbbing with vitality and life. More than anything I would have liked him to push it right up me, so impatient I was for it, but I held back, too.
"Oh. god. Mom. this isn't right. T know it."
"No one will know but you and I. darling. It's all right. Just consider it an experience. Lotta boys want to. but not many of them can be with their mothers."
"Oh. Jesus, all right, but...."
"Just do it. Mark."
His breathing had subsided only a little bit, but his passion had remained at a zenith. So had mine. He found my hole and then began pressing his huge cockhead right into it. The membranes gave easily under the pressure, and he slowly oozed, slipped inside.
"That all right, Mom?" he asked, concern slicing through his passion.
"Wonderful darling," I answered. "Press onward and upward, dear. Fuck me, good, baby."
He liked me to use the word fuck. It seemed to tell him it was all right. He pushed in, very hard, and the sides of my vagina spread for my son's prick. He relaxed for a moment, looked me in the face again to make sure it was all right and my smile, the passionate look on my face must have been a sufficient go-ahead because he didn't check any more after that at all, he just kept grunting and groaning as he continued to press his cock into me. It was so nice and thick and large it felt like it was spreading me almost to the breaking point. So nice to have such a large cock in me. So nice to have his heat plunging into my own. So nice that the place no one had dared go for so long was being attended to.
The size of his cock spread the rest of my cunt apart and I could hardly wait until it was way up inside me, his glans pressing into my cervix opening and the base of that huge prick grinding right into my clitoris. It already felt like it was going to explode.
"More, honey, don't stop, baby," I begged, my own breathless quality apparent "It doesn't hurt you, Mom."
"No, Mark. It feels good, wonderful."
"Better than Dad?"
"Oh, you know it, honey. Listen to me. Nothing has ever felt as good as this."
"Okay, Mom, if you say so."
"I say so, honey. Just keep going up me. I can't stand the wait!"
He went wild after that, not again stopping. With hard, steady, rhythmic clams he drove it deep into me. Each inch he penetrated made me cry out, but now he was enjoying my cries. He put his hands on my shoulders, gripped them for leverage as his eyes closed tight, as he grimaced, as he forced his way up another five inches. When he reached the peak, when my entire vagina could feel his heavy throbs, when my very cervix began opening and closing as if it wanted him in my uterus, when his prick base so nicely grated against my slick clit, he relaxed, but only for a moment. Then he started again, this time fully fucking me. He would draw back, first an inch or so before he slammed into me again. Then he would draw back more inches and ram his cock back in. Each ram provided another grind to my clitoris. Each one made me feel I was going to be split right to the core. Each one filled me with warmth of such intensity, my entire vagina, my entire cunt, my entire clit felt like it was going to ignite and burn right up.
I would not have cared if that had happened. All I was interested in was having that fullness he had provided me with, find some release.
Mark was ramming me as if he had done this a million times before. No longer did he just draw back a few tentative inches. He would slowly move his rear back nearly a foot, until his 10-inch length nearly popped out from my vagina. He would pause, catch his breath for only a minute before his fast plunge jabbed his prick deep up me in one incredible fast movement, until his groin, his pubic bone, and his prick base would provide me with sexual pleasure further up.
His big prick made it impossible for me to do anything other than experience. Despite the fact the years of childbearing and intercourse had stretched my muscles in my vagina, his thickness and length filled me as much as an average-sized penis would fill a virgin.
He did it so well, it was not necessary either for me to clasp my legs around his back, around his butt I just lay there while my son fucked me so good, my legs spread to either side of us, my arched cunt enjoying the slam of his body as we met on his upward ram.
The rapidity of his slams made me realize he was very close to coming and the prospect of having his rich semen splash into my vagina was exciting me even more. I could hardly wait to hear his gasp and the look on his face as he ejaculated. It would not be much longer for him. It would not be much longer for me, either.
I arched my cunt, downward this time because that made the grind against my clitoris all the greater. Now when he had thrust up me all the way, he would take care in grinding his rod so not only my clit and my mound received attention, but my cunt lips were spread to give my entire cunt satisfaction.
Gripping the muscles of my vagina, I closed it onto his thick prick, causing him to shut his eyes again. The additional pressure made his own throbs in his penis more apparent to me, and I was certain only a few more strokes would be possible for him before he gave me himself like I had so many times given him milk.
In a very strange way, the clutching of my vaginal muscles was similar to a mouth sucking at a breast, and it was only appropriate that his juices should flow freely.
He moved back, shaking the dizziness out of his head and rammed into me, once, twice, three times while I arched upward, my head lifting my torso into the air and my cunt feeling even greater pressure and therefore pleasure.
More rams followed as he embedded his prick even deeper into me, splitting me apart even more. I felt as if I was about to lose consciousness from the sensuality that made me feel I was turning inside out. Mark was caught up fully as much as I. He looked like he was riding the wave of orgasm already, his eyes closed, his mouth open as if some weird wail would come forth at any moment but he looked like he was caught in time, in the moment, long with his unuttered cry.
"Oh, ggoooooooooooooooooood!"
He finally screamed and started creaming my insides with long, hot, heavy spurts that came rapidly at first, then, as my own orgasm happened, seemed to subside, as if they were giving me my turn.
"Ahhhhh. Ahhh. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" That was all I could utter as I felt like I was tossing and turning in weightless space, never to return to land. The orgasm went on so long all the blood seemed drained from my system, and all the way I fought myself from blacking out. I wanted to be fully aware of the entire experience.
Mark fell across the top of my body, his head resting near my ear and I heard his breathing subside along with his heartbeat. I kissed him, several times, while he pushed his rod into me, seeming to enjoy the easier slide, now that his own juices were added.
"You will make any woman most happy, Mark. And I don't just say that because I'm your mother."
"I hope so, but I feel sorta funny about what we did."
"We got lost in our passions, Mark, both of us. But there's no reason for us to feel badly about doing something so natural."
"Yeah, I know," he said, sighing, "But mother and son!"
"It's all right if only mother and son know about it. Didn't you enjoy it."
"You know I did."
"Well, then don't think about it anymore. Just remember how good it was."
"It was certainly that."
Very carefully, very gently, he pulled his rod out from my vagina. Limp now, and covered with my juices, as well as his, it still looked as large as many men when they were in a state of erection. Mark slid off the bed and stood while he tied his pajama bottoms.
"Anything else you wanted to talk about Mom? I mean, like about last night?"
"No, Mark. I just wanted to tell you I was sorry I got so upset."
"Then I can see Barbara again?"
"I'd rather you didn't. She is very young, Mark, and if her parents ever found out anything about what went on between you two, you could get into a lot of difficulty."
"I'm not eighteen, yet."
"I just think it would be better if you would find an older woman for a while, if you have to find anyone."
"You're older."
"I could take care of you until you're eighteen, Mark. That way, there'd be no problems."
He drew in his breath and let it out. He looked stronger now that he was so relaxed and more certain of himself.
"Well, I better go get dressed. Football practice is in twenty minutes."
"You'll probably have to hurry, or you'll be late."
"Right. See you at dinner."
"See you then, darling." And I watched him leave the room like a man.