Knocking Up Mom Ch. 02
Impregnated Mom explores her sexuality with her son

***********

Knock ... knock ... knock.

The sound barely registered. Then it came again, and I became more awake.

Knock ... knock ... knock.

It came from my bedroom wall.

I had been napping in the late afternoon, recovering from a hectic day taking care of the church alone while Ed was away at a convention in Richmond for a few days.

I got up from my bed and looked through the hidden hole in the wall my son, Blake, had made to spy on me. I didn't expect to see anything since he usually had a photo hanging over it in his bedroom.

My gaze was met with blackness at first, but then I could see Blake as he backed away from the wall. He had been watching for me to respond to his knocks. Why, I had no idea.

I didn't have to wait long to find out. I heard the bathroom door open down the hall and then witnessed Carrie, Blake's new girlfriend, enter his bedroom. Carrie was also a senior at his high school and a few weeks older than Blake.

Blake smiled in my direction before turning his attention to Carrie.

After our last explosive sexual encounter on the couch at the church, I had told Blake we had to get back to a normal mother/son relationship. I had explained how precious what we had shared together was to me, but now that I was pregnant with his child, he needed to find someone his own age to share his romantic feelings with.

That was two months before. Now I was three months pregnant and my body was changing. Although I was fortunate not to have morning sickness, I could feel my my moods swing and had a little baby bump. My breasts, which had already been large, had swelled, sporting a new web of light-blue veins to show the increased blood flow. My nipples changed, growing little bumps and becoming much more sensitive.

Another change my body experienced was a need for sex. Only my iron will had kept me from begging for it. Not from my husband, Ed, who was for all intents and purposes, impotent—but from my own son. The same son who had been able to give his mother explosive orgasms on the way to impregnating her.

In those two intervening months, Blake had tried to have sex with me again, but I had been firm in denying him.

I had a rule that Carrie was welcome in our home, but Blake's bedroom was to be off limits with the door closed. Carrie closed the door when she entered the room.

Why would Blake alert me to this violation? Didn't he know I would immediately stop him?

I should have marched straight over there and halted this. I stood watching instead.

Carrie was a slim girl, almost as tall as Blake. She had long legs, which were shown to her advantage in a short black skirt. Her tight sleeveless top didn't hide the fact she had tiny boobs.

Blake greeted her, and I heard only murmurs, their words muffled by the barrier between us. She giggled at what he said, then he took her in his arms. She had her back to me, and Blake made direct eye contact with me before he started to kiss her neck.

I should have stopped watching. I didn't. It dawned on me my own son was putting on a voyeuristic show for his mother. Why he would knowingly, willingly, blatantly violate my rules—and then alert me to it—I didn't know.

They kissed, easily at first, and then with greater passion. Blake's hands began to roam over Carrie's frame, massaging and squeezing her ass, then running over her back. Finally, he snaked a hand under her top and rubbed against her naked skin. That was followed by both hands reaching behind her and fiddling beneath the fabric.

Blake was undoing her bra. He gave another look my way. I was transfixed by the sight and couldn't move.

Carrie's hands blocked his efforts to pull her top up. I couldn't make out her words, but her head shaking reflected her resistance. But, the naughty smile never left her face.

After several more kisses, Blake eased the top up along with the freed bra and revealed two tiny tits with hard buttons for nipples. His kisses were transferred from her cheek and lips to those very nipples.

I stood there and silently watched my son suck another females breasts. A good parent would have been outraged at such behavior under her roof; I remained stationary, frozen physically. But, emotionally, I was in turmoil. A surge of feelings overwhelmed me: I felt a flush of anger, and a hot jolt of jealousy. But, most shocking was the unleashing of a flood of desire.

"Ooohh ..." escaped my lips in a soggy gasp.

Blake's tongue made wet trails around each attentive nipple. Then he led her to his bed, which was in a direct line with my sight. He kept looking toward me, and I wondered if Carrie would notice.

She didn't have a clue. And why should she? What in the world would make her suspect her boyfriend's mom was watching her get fondled?

They sat and continued kissing. Blake began stroking her bare thigh, going higher and higher until his right hand disappeared under her skirt. Carrie's own hand tried to slow his ascent, but finally gave up and allowed the undercover exploration.

Blake must have hit something vital, because Carrie's hips began to shake against his hidden hand. Blake's hand reappeared, dragging something bright yellow in color: Carrie's panties.

He pulled them down to just below her bended knees and left them suspended there. His hand reengaged his quest under her skirt. Her hips jumped at the contact with her newly-exposed privates.

Carrie's eyes were now closed and she rocked with each motion of Blake's hand. Those motions turned to little thrusts, and you could easily surmise he had penetrated her most intimate of areas.

My son was fingering her, knowing full well his mother was watching.

Blake's other hand took Carrie's and placed it on his own crotch. Her eye's flew open and tried weakly to pull away. She resisted only for a second, and then started a rhythmic rubbing across the surface of his pants. She was alternately smiling, laughing, or gasping (when Blake hit something especially essential between her thighs).

Her hand sped up its motion. Blake worked open his belt, top button, and then the zipper of his pants. He took Carrie's hand and slipped it inside his underwear. Her eyes went wide and I could read her lips saying "Oh my God!"

"Oh my God!" I echoed out loud. She was touching my son's hard penis. The same penis that I had inside of me. The same penis that had gotten me pregnant.

Blake scooted his hips up, and in one swift motion skinned his pants and shorts down to his own knees.

His cock sprang free and pointed towards the ceiling.

Carrie had taken her hand away, and stared ... speechless. Maybe this was the first cock she had ever seen up close. Maybe it was just because my son's was so much bigger.

The sight of it made me whimper. It had been months since ....

My hand trailed down my slightly bumped abdomen and didn't stop until it rested between my own thighs. It began a light dance against my crotch, unconscious, and with a mind of its own. I gave a slight "Ehhhh" of a whimper when my body recognized my son's instrument of pleasure.

THAT had been inside me; THAT had made me cum; THAT had successfully spewed great quantities of baby-making juice deep into my womb!

Now it was in the hands of a teen girl. Blake had put her hand back in place and was instructing it to pump up and down.

My own hand needed no instruction. I was rubbing against my crotch lightly. If it had only not been so long since I had been satisfied! This scene before me wouldn't have taken me so by surprise and "forced" me to touch myself. I slipped my hand under the waistband of my slacks and panties, down until I gently split my labia. My middle finger didn't stop until it felt the mess my body was emitting from my vagina. I was soaked!

Blake's own finger was evidently embedded in Carrie. Her eyes were half-closed and her neck seemed to have lost some of its strength as her head lolled from one side to another.

Blake looked my way, directly into my eyes even though he couldn't see me. My own finger curved into my vagina, and I moved it with the same rhythm and speed as Blake's.

Blake's other hand schooled Carrie's and urged her to pump his thick cock harder and faster. She did, even when he took his own hand away.

Her hand went faster; so did mine.

Now Blake rested his free hand on the back of Carrie's neck. A gentle push, and her eyes opened fully. Her surprised face mouthed "No" along with a negative shake of her head.

Blake kissed her lips and then continued his pressure. Her head went lower and lower until her mouth was maybe an inch away from the oozing head of his cock.

"He wants her to blow him!" I whispered. I felt a pang, remembering the first time my son's cock had entered my mouth, remembering the feel of it, how it stretched my lips. Remembering his taste!

She was just eighteen, like my son. She was in my home about to have oral sex with my son. I should stop this.

I didn't. Instead, I shifted my lubricated finger to my clitoris.

Carrie's tongue flicked out and sampled Blake's offering. She brought that tongue home inside her mouth and make a strange face. Maybe her first taste of a male.

More pressure from Blake and Carrie's open mouth engulfed the bulging head of his cock.

Maybe he sensed reluctance and wanted to finish quickly, maybe he was just ready—but within a few seconds, his hips jerked and he mouthed one silent word towards me: "Mom!"

Carrie tried to pull off, but was too slow to miss the fountain of cum flooding her mouth. Blake's confining hand kept her in place for the few seconds needed.

As I realized my son was having an orgasm, my finger pressed hard on my clit and sent shockwaves coursing through my body. My hips bucked and cruelly forced my clitoris against my hand.

For the first time in my life, I had masturbated myself to a climax. I would have to deal with the guilt of that forbidden act later.

Carrie had her own situation to deal with. Blake had finally let go of her and allowed her cum-filled mouth to pull free of his penis. She retched and coughed and choked, in some random order.

"The bitch didn't swallow it," I said aloud. I felt some weird pride that I had been able to take all of Blake's load and not lose one drop as it slid down my throat and into my stomach. A strange accomplishment for a mother, but an accomplishment that made me feel superior to the young girl before me.

The loud sounds Carrie was making spurred me to let my jealousy act out. I pulled my drenched hand from my clothes, wiped it off, and rushed out to Blake's door.

I knocked insistently and said in a loud voice: "Blake, is everything all right?"

I heard scrambling, and could picture Carrie's horror at being "caught" giving a blowjob in her Pastor's home.

That didn't stop her coughing, not immediately, anyway.

"What's going on in there?" I almost giggled at my meanness.

"It's okay, Mom!" A few seconds went by, and Blake cracked open the door. I knew he was giving Carrie a little time to clean up and get her bearings.

"Blake, I thought you were choking," I said with mock concern.

"Not me, Mom. It's Carrie."

"Blake! What did I tell you about having your door closed?"

"We knew you were resting, and Carrie said close it so our voices didn't bother you while we were studying." Blake had a big grin on while he lied. "Right, Carrie?" he asked as he swung open the door.

There was Carrie standing in the middle of the room, a big fat guilty look on her face and some wet stains on her blouse. The room swam undeniably with the mixed fragrances of vagina and sperm, which I chose to ignore.

"Carrie," I said as I got closer to her, "that was so considerate of you. Are you okay? What made you cough like that?"

"Something went down the wrong pipe, I think," Blake said.

Carrie looked at him, not a smile in her whole body at this point, and said, "Yeah, that was it, Mrs. Best."

"Be more careful when you swallow in the future," I said.

She nodded, but was looking at Blake with evil intent. She would think twice about any "future" swallowing.

"I was going to make myself a cup of tea. Can I fix you two a snack?"

"I'm good, Mom. Carrie, do you want something, or are you still full?" Blake asked. He was enjoying this.

She crossed her arms and gave him that "you're gonna get it" look. "I'm good too, Mrs. Best. Blake, I'd better get home."

"Sorry you can't stay, Carrie. You could have told me how your studies are going."

Blake had borrowed the car while I worked at home today. It had become my habit to take a nap in the afternoon as of late. He knew from my closed bedroom door that was exactly what I was doing when he got home with Carrie.

"I'll be right back after I drive Carrie home. Oh, Mom, before I forget, there's something in the top drawer of my desk you might want to take a look at."

As soon as they walked out of the kitchen door, I could hear Carrie's high-pitched voice giving Blake a piece of her mind. She probably didn't appreciate the unexpected flood of sperm into her mouth or being surprised in the midst of it by her boyfriend's mother. She most likely thought I was completely out of the loop concerning what goes on behind closed doors when boyfriend and girlfriend get together.

That loop closes when there's an available peephole into said room.

I opened Blake's desk drawer. There was something familiar there: a single sheet of drawing paper, face down.

I turned it over and said, "Whoa!"

It was another of Blake's sketches. I had put a ban on any more of the sexual variety he and I had traded leading up to his seduction which led to our future baby together.

It was all part of my plan to get back to normalcy. This was definitely not part of that plan. A violation of the ban, and a deviation from normalcy by anyone's rules.

Blake's art skills were improving almost daily. This was one of his best.

The drawing showed me (naked, of course) on my back with Blake between my thighs. Our faces were drawn in great detail, so there was no doubt it was mother and son having intercourse.

The one variation from others he had done was the position he had chosen.

On each of Blake's shoulders sat one of my feet. He had me bent double, my legs pinned back onto my chest, squashing my breasts down, as he thrust deep within me.

There were two word balloon's: mine was empty while his said "Want me to make you cum, Mom?"

*********************

"She was pretty mad," Blake said.

He had just gotten back from bringing his girlfriend home. I told him we needed to talk, so here we were at the kitchen table. He had a glass of milk and a package of store-bought cookies; I had a cold glass of orange juice.

Also on the table was Blake's sketch, face down.

"I thought I told you no more drawings," I said.

"I've been good for two months, Mom. But this kept coming up in my mind so I couldn't stop thinking about it until I finally had to draw it."

"Why did you bring Carrie here? Why did you want me to see you?"

"Carrie's okay, don't get me wrong. You told me I should have a girlfriend my own age and everything, and I'm trying. Believe me. But, she seems like such a kid."

"She's only 18, like you are. You've both got a lot of growing up to do," I said.

"I think I've grown up a lot since school began, Mom. With Dad and his miracle thing and you and me, and most important, me becoming a dad myself. I'm different now. Different from Carrie and the kids I used to hang around with."

"But, why would you want me to watch you? Didn't you know it would affect me in many conflicting ways?"

"Mom, I've missed you in ways you don't know. We're here in front of Dad and I have to act like I always have, as your son. We're mother and son, sure. But, my body knows you more than that now. I miss the mother of my baby. I miss that woman in a way you might not even guess."

"Blake, I—"

"Mom, I love you as my Mom and always will. But, Kim, I love you as the mother of my baby. I feel you there as a woman who I want in more ways than I can explain."

He took my hand into his. "I wanted you to see it was you I was thinking of when I was with Carrie. That she meant nothing to me while you mean everything."

I had thought masturbating would have taken the edge off any desires I had, but I was wrong. When I had penned in my caption on the sketch, I had mostly one set of motivations. Now, after hearing the father of my baby speak, I had even stronger reasons.

"Turn that over," I said while pointing at the sketch.

My son picked it up and read what I had written: "Fuck me deep, Blake!"

Still holding the sketch, he got up, took his Mom by the hand and led her out of the kitchen. On the table lay milk, cookies, and a half glass of cold orange juice.

He went past his bedroom. I knew then he wanted to use his dad's bed for what was going to take place.

In the bedroom, Blake put the sketch on my night stand. Then he slowly undressed me, taking his time and attending to each body part with his gentle touch and his mouth. Finally, his mother was completely naked in front of him.

I pulled his shirt off, unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and dropped to my knees before pulling pants and shorts down in one move. He stepped out of them, revealing that wonderful cock that had gotten me pregnant.

It had been months since I had been this close to its revealed beauty and power. My mouth opened and took him in, licking and sucking—taking possession of what was mine now. What had been Carrie's just an hour ago.

I thought "Not too many boys have their girlfriend AND their mom suck on their cock in one day."

Blake said, "Carrie couldn't do it. You would swallow it all, wouldn't you, Mom?"

I released Blake's penis from my mouth to say, "I would eat every drop, swallow every bit of you!" Then I went hungrily back to what Carrie had been so reluctant to do.

Blake pulled me to my feet. Caressed me, kissed me, then brought his hands to my breasts, my swollen breasts.

"Mom, they're even bigger now," he said before dropping his head down, opening his mouth and sucking.

"Gentle," I whispered, but didn't need to fear. Blake instinctively knew my breasts were sore with the business of milk production. It still was early, and I hadn't noticed any lactation yet. His mouth felt wonderful and sent surges of maternal as well as carnal feelings racing along every nerve in my body. Fitting, I guess for my son AND my lover.

"Will you let me suck your tits when they're full?" he asked.

Blake wanted me to nurse him in the future, to feed from his mother's breast again.

"Yes, my baby, yes!" My head shot back when he renewed his sucking.

I led Blake to the bed and carelessly threw back the covers. This was his father's bed, but today it was to be the place my son took possession of his woman. It was the place his woman welcomed her man inside her.

I crawled slowly to the bed's center, pausing to give my boy a good look at his mom's ass. I turned my head back to him and smiled.

Maybe Carrie's presence had brought out a seductive, competitive side of me. Maybe it was two months of sexual frustration. Ed hadn't even thought of touching me since I had become pregnant.

Blake eagerly followed me onto the bed and got between my thighs. His head went from my abdomen to my jungle of pubic hair—there his stiff tongue parted jungle and labia, not stopping until it reached the head of the Amazon: the entrance of my vagina. And the river was flowing, full force.

He lapped up my juices while I squirmed and squealed. Then he bent my legs back, giving him even greater access. What he did next shocked me to my core:

Blake tongued my asshole! It sent a jolt through me so strong my whole body jumped.

"BLAKE! NOOO!" I grunted.

But, that didn't stop him. Around and around that tight, puckered hole his tongue went, its tip repeatedly probing and thrusting, trying to gain the least little entrance.

I had thought all my inhibitions had been torn down, but, having my own son licking at his mother's anus appeared to be one forbidden area I wasn't ready for.

"I really love your ass, Mom. Really love it," he said before rising up. He kissed my legs, alternating between the two. Inner thighs, then knees, then my muscular calves. I thought he might kiss my feet, but he didn't.

He put them onto his shoulders, and had his mom suspended in front of him, giving full access to her sodden pussy.

Blake bent forward and my legs bent back. Back, lower, back until my position exactly matched the sketch. He reached between us and I felt the tip of his thick penis say hello to my vagina.

"Ready, Mom?"

"I'm ready, oh so ready, Blake," I whispered. I had been prepared never to do this again. All my intentions had been for this never to happen again.

All my previous plans to reinstate strictly a mother/son relationship melted when Blake glided into my well-lubricated vagina all the way to the hilt in one glorious slow thrust!

I gusted "Aaaaaaaahhhhh!" the whole way in.

Blake said one word when he reached bottom: "Kim!"

The angle this position afforded was amazing. It hit areas within me I never would have dreamed.

But, as I looked at Blake's face, framed by my bare feet, I knew there was something else, a secret I had never told anyone that was exerting another force on me. A secret I would never tell Blake.

Mother and son reunited. Man and woman joined. The father of my baby was driving mercilessly into his mother, the mother of his baby, and his lover.

A lover who didn't ask for or want mercy.

All my body wanted at this point was to be filled, and then filled again. And fill me Blake did, with that monstrously long and thick cock.

I had forgotten what it felt like. My memory of it was a faint shadow compared to the expansive force of his shaft on my constricting vagina.

My female competitive, possessive nature made me smile. "This would destroy that little bitch, Carrie" I thought. "She isn't woman enough to take it!"

I looked at Blake's face, contorted in effort and lust. It was ME, his mother who could bring him to such pleasure. At that moment, my pride knew few limits.

Seconds grew into minutes, during which Blake hit new angles and new depths inside of me.

My feet caressed the side of his face. I watched them as they rocked with the motion and intensity of his thrusts.

He finally turned his head gave a tense little nip to my right foot.

"BLAKE! I'M CUMMING! PLEASE! PLEASE! YEESS! I'M CUMMING!"

My orgasm had come so quickly, and with no warning. If my masturbation had been a firecracker, then this was a bomb! I strained upward with all my might.

Blake plunged and held there, as far into me as he could manage.

"NOW! KIM! NOW!"

And though I couldn't feel it, I knew that even though he had cum in Carrie's mouth just an hour before, my son was sending blistering jets of sperm into his mother's already-pregnant body. Although his cum had no additional power to impregnate, it still served the purpose to invade, dominate, and mark the territory of his woman.

Blake totally took possession of me on his father's bed, taking his dad's place as the one man who could satisfy me.

My son fell on top of me, shrugging my feet from him so they flopped to the bed at the end of legs which had lost all of their strength and control.

We slowly caught our breath in each other's arms.

"I can't believe it, Mom. That was the best yet. You surprised me. Out of nowhere, you—"

"I know, Blake. It surprised me too. Out of nowhere ...."

But, it wasn't out of nowhere. It was from my past. A past I had all but forgotten about.

*****************************

"I just don't remember it that way, Kim," my sister said.

"Bev, he used to tickle until I cried. He wouldn't stop. I used to think it was so cruel."

Beverly had dropped by to visit while Ed was away. My sister was always there when I needed her. She had been extra attentive since I'd become pregnant again.

I wondered how supportive she would be if she knew I was carrying my own son's child. And, what would her face look like if she had witnessed her sister bent double shouting out an orgasm as teenage sperm flooded her just an hour before?

Yeah, here I was sitting next to my sister with her nephew's live sperm swimming inside me futilely searching for an egg that would never come.

"I remembering Dad tickling me, but nothing that made me do anything but laugh. It was playful," she said.

"You were lucky, then. He used to tickle me, my ribs, and that didn't bother me too much. But, then he'd pull my socks off and go after my feet. That sent me crazy. I couldn't take it. I would struggle and struggle until I couldn't breathe."

"None the worse for wear, I guess," she said and nonchalantly took a sip of coffee.

I wish I shared her nonchalance. Of course I knew my feet were still sensitive, but until that afternoon, when Blake had playfully bitten my foot—which triggered my clitoral explosion—I had never suspected it could be more than that. Now I knew why Blake's sketch had excited me so. Seeing my feet near his face opened the door to a strange desire. I was desperately trying, with Bev's help, to rationalize it and piece together why it affected me so.

"Why is this all of a sudden so important after all these years?" she asked. So much for the help part.

I could hardly tell her that just before she arrived I had my feet firmly planted on her nephew's shoulders as he drove his rock-hard cock into her sister's throbbing pussy.

I said instead, "More coffee?"

**************************

"I don't know if I deserve all the attention I'm getting," Ed said.

He had called after dinner. Blake and I sat at the kitchen table with Ed on the speakerphone.

"What attention?" I asked.

"Seems everyone has heard about the miracle service we had at our little church and the explosion of fervor and enthusiasm from our congregation! Good news travels fast!"

Blake looked at me. I looked at Blake.

Ed went on: "They've built me up to be quite the champion of faith here. I give a sort of keynote address tonight, they scheduled it in special. Can you believe that? The biggest religious convention in the tri-state area, and they've asked ME to speak!"

"I'm proud of you, Dad! Don't leave out any of the details. People will want to know exactly how our miracle happened!" Blake yelled towards the cell phone on the table. He made a funny face and raised his eyebrows towards me.

Of course his father had no clue how the miracle of my impregnation happened. He would be shocked to learn that as he lay in a drunken stupor, his son, in the next bedroom had delivered copious quantities of potent sperm directly into his wife's fertile womb, thereby becoming a father AND brother all in one shot. AND as a not-so-subtle byproduct, had sexually satisfied her by delivering an earth-shattering orgasm that had her screaming her brains out.

THERE was the miracle behind the miracle. That's the one I'm sure the tri-state gathering of clergy would receive with slack-jawed amazement, condemnation, and disgust.

"Are you taking care of your mother while I'm gone?"

Blake looked at me again with that grin. "I'm making sure Mom has everything she needs, Dad!" he said enthusiastically—maybe TOO enthusiastically.

"Good! You know you have to fill in for me while I'm not there."

"I'm doing my best filling things! Believe me!"

Ed would have been shocked if he knew my belly was filled with my son's (and not HIS) baby, and that my vagina was now filled with Blake's living sperm, even as we spoke.

"Blake, do me a favor," Ed called out from the phone.

"Sure, Dad."

"I left some handwritten notes on my night stand. I didn't think I'd need them, but now that I have to speak, I'd like to review them again. Go take a photo of them and text it to me."

"Okay, Dad. You'll get it in a minute," Blake said. He got up to leave for my bedroom, but surprised me with a sloppy French kiss before exiting the kitchen.

It flustered his pregnant mom.

"You still there?" Ed asked after my silence.

"Yes, Dear," I said. For some strange reason, I felt more guilty from that kiss in front of the immobile phone on the table than I did about being pregnant with his son's child.

"Take me off speaker," Ed said.

I did and held the phone up to my ear. This seemed out of character for Ed, like he had something to say he didn't want Blake to hear. My stomach tightened.

"Kim?"

"I'm here, Ed."

"I just wanted to say how proud I am of Blake. I don't want him to get a big head about everything, but the way he has acted since you've become pregnant is exemplary. He couldn't have been more attentive to you. Don't think I haven't noticed how affectionate he is. He's really taking care of his mother."

"He certainly is," I had to agree.

"You know I don't like to spoil the boy, but, while I'm away, you give him anything he wants."

"Ed, I—" There was a "bing" sound on the phone.

"Oh," Ed said, "there's Blake's text. I'm going to look at my notes right now. Wish me luck tonight."

"Good luck, Ed! You deserve all the credit!" I lied. Actually, Blake deserved the credit for seducing his own mother and planting that baby seed deep (and I mean DEEP) inside her where it took hold and produced the baby growing in me now. Blake also deserved credit for awakening in me sexual desires I never thought I had or could be satisfied. And, oh yeah, Blake deserved credit for being able to satisfy those desires like I never imagined possible in my 41 years on this planet.

"See you at the airport tomorrow night, Kim! I wish you could have been as excited as I was today when I found I was going to speak tonight!"

I didn't tell him how excited I had been myself while I watched our son shoot cum in his girlfriend's mouth or how excited I had been when Blake poured his second load of the day into me while he had my legs high on his shoulders. Instead, I said: "Me too. See you tomorrow."

I hung up and looked at the phone.

Blake walked into the kitchen. He had one hand behind his back.

"I can see you've been drawing again," he said.

My eyes widened and my mouth opened. Blake pulled my sketchpad from behind him and held it up.

"Blake! You weren't meant to see that!"

"Then, either you shouldn't have left it on your night stand, or you shouldn't have let me go to your bedroom."

I had forgotten. Why did I leave that out in the open? Was I unconsciously sabotaging myself?

"I wondered today what set you off," he said. "Now I have a good idea."

"Blake ... I'm so embarrassed," I whispered.

He came over to the table where I was still seated, bent down, and kissed my cheek. I had turned my head away, unable to look him in the face.

"Don't be, Mom. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"It's what your father calls a perversion in his sermons. It's not natural."

"You know how strict Dad is in all his beliefs. Look at everything he thinks about sex in general. He's the one with the weird ideas, thinking everyone should be guilty all the time about having natural feelings. That's what I think, anyway."

It felt stranger talking about sex with my son than HAVING sex with my son.

"Give me that, Blake. I should have ripped it up. No—I never should have even drawn it, even thought about it."

"Mom, I love your drawings. They're all so honest. And they show me how you really feel even when you can't express it in any other way. Don't ever shut yourself off from letting your art complete your thoughts and feelings."

He held up the sketch. There were three separate scenes, each featuring Blake's face: one had him kissing a foot; another showed him with the flat of his tongue licking up the sole of a foot; the last showed him sucking toes.

I had accurately drawn the features of his face. And, although no one could tell, I had accurately drawn my own feet.

"Blake, I don't know why I drew those."

"I do," Blake said. "You have a foot fetish. Something made you feel your feet are sexy. It doesn't matter why or how. That's just what is. I read about it once on the internet. There's nothing wrong with it, Mom."

"Please, give me that," I said as I made a grab for the pad.

Blake easily avoided my reach and said, "Mom, if YOU think this is exciting, then I think it is too." He took the pen sitting on the table and wrote for a minute while I sat there, stunned. Then, he pushed the pad across to me and left it alone to do with what I wanted.

My eyes couldn't tear themselves away. "Oh my God, oh my God," I chanted in a hypnotic fog. Unconsciously, I rocked my bottom back and forth on the hard chair.

He had written three captions:

"I want to kiss your pretty feet, Mom!"

"I love the taste of your feet."

"Cum for me, Mom, while I suck your toes."

I looked up at him finally and shook my head "no." My head seemed to be the only part of me in the negative. My mind was busy picturing Blake carrying out his written acts while my body was inflamed with a perverse desire.

"Come on, Mom," he said quietly. He took me by the hand and pulled.

I resisted. "I can't let this happen. I can't allow something as dirty as this to happen."

"Don't you want me to get down there and smell your feet, tickle them?" He pulled me up until I was standing on shaky legs.

"Nooo, oh no!" I breathed. The thought drove me wild. My breath came fast. Then Blake's words brought memories flooding back to me—my father's words as he tickled me, talking (I'm sure kiddingly) about my "stinky feet."

Blake led me down the hall. I resisted feebly and protested almost inaudibly.

He sat me on my bed and knelt in front of me. Then he raised my left leg until my calf length leather boot was in his hand. He pulled at the heel and my foot loosed from its tight, hot confines. The air felt cool on my sweaty foot.

"You have pretty feet, Mom." Just that one statement sent a thrill through me.

Was I really going to allow this to happen?

Blake brought my foot up to his mouth and kissed it. "God!" I gasped.

My son repeated the procedure with the other boot. I was now barefoot in front of my son and the thrill was even greater than when he had first stripped all my clothes from me and I first stood naked in front of him. The repressed perversity of this act surpassed my previous disrobing.

He surprised me by dropping my feet to the floor and reaching under my skirt.

"Blake?" is all I said when he pulled at my panties. I raised my hips at his silent command, and he skimmed them over my hips and down to those feet he had just been lavishing attention to. Off they went to the side.

Blake kissed my left knee, then my calf, and then my foot. Kissed it as it had never been kissed before—every inch of it! My butt ground into the bed. I moaned and made soft protestations before graduating into urgings and begging for more. The sight of my son's face on my foot was driving me wild.

A fact I never would have guessed before today. it seemed the nerves of my feet had a direct route to my clitoris. I rocked and squeezed my thighs.

He switched to the other foot and after the kissing, licked the sole from heel to toes.

"Nooooooo!" I exhaled. It wasn't a negative to stop, but a sign of disbelief that this could be happening—that something so gloriously, insanely, excitingly bizarre was happening!

As he held my foot captive and licked its entire surface, my son's hand snaked up my thigh, under my skirt, and, like a heat-seeking missile, sought out the heat of my throbbing pussy.

I felt his fingers in the damp, dense jungle of my black, curls nestled between my long legs. The end of one long leg, my foot, was now covered in my son's saliva.

Even wetter was the entrance of my vagina. His middle finger found it and easily penetrated me.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed at that first intrusion. He withdrew and plunged the digit back in, slowly at first, and then more and more rapidly.

My son was fingering his mother—just like he had done earlier with Carrie.

He switched feet again, repeated his licking, and then forced his rough tongue between my toes. Each toe, every single toe, every tingling toe.

"Yes, yes, yes," I chanted. I was loving this beyond all measure of sense or sanity.

Blake pressed his thumb onto my clitoris and then sucked my toes, one-by-one into his hot, wet mouth. Never rushing and giving each one time and attention with his tongue. The suction he applied, the pressure of his mouth—accompanied by the pressure on my clit sent me over the edge.

"DADDY!" I screamed, "I'M CUMMING!"

My hands covered Blake's own hand on my crotch and I added my strength to his in mashing my clit. My hips bucked until I was totally spent and lay back, completely exhausted and spent.

My hands fell to my side, leaving Blake's to continue with a lazy sawing in and out of his mom's thoroughly-flooded pussy. My fluids drained down my ass, soaking into the bed below.

Through my after-orgasm haze, I felt Blake's finger slip from my vagina and go lower, rubbing over my saturated asshole. It rubbed over and over it, and then made a little encroachment. I tightened up.

Then again. Finally, I lacked the strength to continue my defense, and I let my son sink knuckle deep into my butt.

"Blake ... honey ... don't," I said. But, I'm sure my voice was too weak to be understood. I withstood the well-lubricated assault for another thirty seconds, almost forgetting about it as I recovered.

Then Blake withdrew his finger. I lay with my eyes closed, but could hear the rustle of clothes.

When I opened my eyes, Blake was naked. My mind said "My boy is going to fuck his mother, fuck her for the second time today!"

But Blake surprised me. Instead of either stripping me naked on his father's bed, or just hiking my skirt up and mounting me, he reached down and grabbed my ankles.

He firmly brought them up to his hard cock and proceeded to place the soles of my feet on either side of his hot penis.

"Blake? I ...? Yes, Baby, YES!"

A new thrill went through me! I had never thought of this. I instinctively pointed my toes and applied pressure, making it easier for Blake to glide his cock between them. Faster and faster he went. I added my little foot caresses to his speed.

"Fuck Mommy's feet, Baby!" I encouraged, as if he needed any encouragement. My whole world centered on one thing at that point: make my son cum with my feet.

And cum he did. "KIM! OH YEAH! OH YEAH!"

A thick coating of sperm and semen covered the soles of my feet and oozed from between my toes. For the third time today, my son let loose with his orgasm. This load seemed no smaller than his first.

Into his girlfriend's mouth, into his mom's pussy, and finally onto his mother's soft feet. Quite a day for any boy.

But, even an 18-year-old had a limit. When Blake reached that limit, he fell onto the bed beside me.

As he caught his breath, he said, "Mom, that was so wild! I'm so glad we did this."

"I never would have believed. I never would have even suspected I wanted ... no needed this. You made it possible for an unconscious wish of mine come true!" I spoke softly into his ear.

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me for a long time, smiling. I smiled back.

"Mom, you can make my wish come true too."

"And what's that, young man. Your Dad doesn't get home until tomorrow night!" I thought I sounded optimistic and adventuresome.

"Mom, I want to fuck that tight ass of yours!"

***************************

I was in bed-naked.

Behind me, I heard the soft, rhythmic breathing that signaled a sleeping person. That sleeping person's naked body pressed against mine in the "spooning" position.

That naked body pressing warmly against mine had spent the entire night in my bed.

That naked body was my son.

His crotch nestled against my buttocks. The same buttocks he had expressed the desire to split and enter.

When he first asked if he could spend the night with me, I had immediately declined. I told him it would be inappropriate for a mother and grown son to sleep together.

Some shred of a traditional mother/son relationship kept intruding itself into each new situation that arose. He pointed out that we had already seen each other naked; we had already engaged in sex; we had already used his father's bed in an anything-but normal way; and, most importantly, we had already created a baby together.

The mother in me felt justified to order him from this bed. The woman in me longed for the father of her child to cherish her, stay close to her, surround her, protect her, and ... sleep with her.

I let him stay.

We had cuddled and laughed and talked until sleep overcame us both. There had been no more sex. Just contented man/woman companionship.

I had been stunned at Blake's proposal to have anal sex. It shocked me. And, I was no longer the mostly-naive girl of a few months ago. I was a fully sexually aware woman who was now carrying her own son's child. I was a woman who had done more varied sexual acts in the last three months than I had done in the previous 41 years.

And yet, it had astounded me. Even though I had sensed Blake's preoccupation with my butthole. Even though he had rubbed it, licked it, and inserted his finger into it—it still jarred me when the words "Mom, I want to fuck that tight ass of yours!" came streaming from his mouth.

I got up and made breakfast as usual. I let Blake sleep since it was Saturday and he didn't have to rush off for school.

I was finishing buttering some toast when I heard behind me, "I slept great, Mom. How 'bout you?"

"Yeah, great." That was partly true. The sleep part. The part where I lay awake contemplating Blake's words was the untrue part. That had NOT been great.

I gave Blake the already-made toast and slid another two slices in to the toaster for myself.

We ate mostly in silence. Talked a little about the trip to the airport later that evening to pick up his father.

When breakfast was over, Blake sidled up to me at the kitchen sink and slid his hands around me from the rear and cupped my breasts. I was still naked with only my thin satin robe covering my body.

My nipples went hard, maybe from the friction, or maybe because my body recognized the father of my baby, the man who made that body obey its sexual commands and rewarded it with the most intense orgasms it had ever known.

"Blake," I said, "you know this has to stop again when your father gets home."

"That gives us all day then, doesn't it, Mom?"

He kissed my neck, and I moaned despite myself. I shook my mind clear after a moment and said in a businesslike manner, "Your Aunt Bev will be here any second. She's helping at the church while I prepare for your Dad's return. He still has a Sunday service remember."

"I remember," he said. "Do YOU remember what I said yesterday?"

I pretended ignorance. I knew what he meant. "You said a lot of things. I have to get dressed." But as I attempted a quick retreat from the kitchen, Blake caught hold of my arm and turned me toward him. He pulled me close in an embrace.

"Mom, you know what I mean." He dropped his hands and caressed my butt, covered only by the thin fabric of my robe. His hands glided over my muscular cheeks. "Your butt drives me crazy. I love watching you when you walk around, and when you bend over. You know what I want, Mom."

"No," is all I said.

"You didn't even think about it."

Blake would have been surprised at how MUCH I had thought about it.

"Blake, I did think about it and decided it's not for me. There are a thousand reasons why. And you should be able to guess them all!"

"There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't be the father of the baby inside you right now. Or a thousand reasons why we draw the pictures we do for each other."

"Blake, let's not do this now."

"Mom, there are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't cum so hard in your mouth. There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't make YOU cum when I eat your pussy. How many reasons are there that you shouldn't swallow my cum?"

"This is ... different. This is unnatural."

"More unnatural than me licking your feet or sucking your toes or cumming all over them?"

My mind was starting to reel. My son was making argument after argument about how far from natural we had already come.

"Just because we've done SOME things doesn't mean we have to do EVERY thing," I said.

"I want to fuck your butt, Mom. It would mean a lot to me." He kissed me.

"Blake, I just don't understand why. There are so many other ways we—"

"Besides being real exciting and it would feel real good, there's something that you letting me do it would say you're mine, really mine to me. It's something I know Dad would never have from you and would be yours and mine alone."

"Blake, you know it would hurt me, hurt terribly."

"Maybe knowing that and the fact you would still do it for me is why I want it. Can you understand that?"

"No, Blake, it makes no sense at all to me," I said.

***************************

"Butt sex?" my sister said with a scrunched up face.

"Yeah. What's the allure? Why would a man even think about it?"

"Where is this coming from, anyway?" she asked.

"You know ... people in the congregation have all sorts of problems, and—"

"You want me to believe someone in your congregation picked YOU out—the purest straightarrow in the world to discuss butt sex?"

I think my title of "Pure" was now a bit tarnished because of whose baby I was carrying, and it gained more patina with each orgasm my son coaxed out of my body.

"Forget it," I said. I probably shouldn't have even brought up the subject. It took me three tries before I got up the courage.

"No, no," she said, taking on that look she got whenever she would lecture me. "For starters, butt sex is the ultimate goal of very guy. Even if he's never thought about it—that's his goal."

That made no sense to me at all, but I didn't interrupt.

"Men know women have no interest in giving THAT up willingly. Why WOULD we? That should be a one-way highway, right! That's how nature intended it."

She looked at me, so I nodded.

"But, men want whatever they can't have. Ever notice that? Anything that's out of reach—that's the thing that looks good to them. A woman's butt should be out of reach. Especially if she's giving him plenty of vagina sex and a good helping of oral sex, right?"

"BEVERLY!" I gasped. My sister and I had never EVER had this conversation before.

"You asked for it, Kim!" Bev smiled. She was actually enjoying my discomfort.

"You sound like you've thought this out before," I said.

"Oh, I have. You'd think that if a guy was getting a lot of other sex, he wouldn't want butt sex. But NOOO! He just thinks he's even closer to the goal line. The goal line being your sphincter!"

"Oh Gawd!" I said and put my face in my hands. "But why—"

"Possession. Domination. The forbidden. The taboo. A man wants that last thing a woman possesses. AND—to take it by force—that's nothing. That's less than nothing. But, when a woman offers him that of her own will. That's domination that works both ways now. A man is forever under her control. At least that's my opinion."

"And you know this how?"

It was her turn to look uncomfortable. "Hypothetical. All hypothetical." She gave a big grin, and raised her eyebrows a few times.

"Let's change the subject," I said.

"Before we do, just let me give you two words of advice. All hypothetical, remember. First, clear the runway, if you know what I mean. And second, lube up, not only that runway, but also the whole rocket, if you know what I mean."

Unfortunately, I knew exactly what she meant.

**********************************

"Hello, Mrs. Best."

"Hi, Carrie," I said. She was coming out of Sugarland Pharmacy; I was about to go in and pick up Ed's allergy prescription before he got home.

"How's Blake today? He hasn't even called me."

"I guess he's been busy. With his dad away and everything," I said. I didn't want to let on HOW busy he had been since she last saw him. I took a little nasty pinch of pride that my son was neglecting his girl, and that I was probably the reason.

She turned to go. "Tell him 'hi' for me and have him give me a call."

"Phone works both ways, Carrie. Call him," I said.

"I don't call boys," she said. "Boys call ME!" She had turned toward me and put her hands on her slim hips.

Something in her bearing and attitude rankled me. Here she was being, shall I say, "bitchy" with her boyfriend's mother. What was she like with Blake? Did she make him crawl and beg? Did she use her wiles and charms to control him?

"Communication should be mutually cooperative, Carrie," I said, deciding to be the adult in the room and give her some good advice.

"If he doesn't appreciate me, Mrs. Best, that's all on him. I expect him to call and let me know that—OFTEN!" She was angry and couldn't help show it. "This is the first time he hasn't called me almost every hour. Or at least text me."

"Maybe he's been preoccupied. Ever think of that? Maybe he was busy with something he considered important."

"I can't think of anything that should be more important than ME! You can tell him that for me!" She turned and stomped off without saying goodbye.

My face was hot with anger. I grinned at the thought of her coughing and splitting up Blake's cum. My grin grew bigger when I thought that I myself had swallowed his whole load while she couldn't.

I got Ed's prescription, and then an evil, prideful, vindictive thought seized me when my eye caught sight of an aisle I had always avoided. A wicked impulse sent me down that aisle and a moment later I was looking guiltily around as I made my purchase. Luckily there was no one else in the store, and the sleepy-looking cashier paid no attention, not even looking up at me.

********************

Blake was napping in front of the TV in the living room.

I had gotten home, put away some groceries, visited the bathroom, and was inspired to do a quick sketch. Inspired by Carrie! The little bitch! I'd show her preoccupied.

As I finished the sketch, Blake stuck his head into the study. "When do we have to leave to pick up Dad?"

"We don't have to leave for a few hours yet. I saw Carrie at the drug store. She says you haven't called."

"Yeah. Usually I have a lot to say, but, since yesterday ... I dunno. A lot happened yesterday. Carrie just hasn't been on my mind that much."

"Distracted?" I asked, and smiled.

"Well, duh! Yeah, I'm distracted. I'm thinking about YOU, Mom. I'm thinking about Dad coming home. I'm thinking about how special yesterday was."

"Sounds like you've been doing a lot of thinking," I laughed.

"Have you done any thinking, Mom?"

"About yesterday? You're right. That was very special. And yes, I've thought about with your father coming home, we have to get back to normal again, like he had been acting the past few months."

"I guess," he said. He looked down and the disappointment on his face was not subtle. "I'd better call Carrie, I guess."

"We're going to get back to normal, young man."

"I know, Mom. You've said it all before."

"But, like I said, we don't have to leave for the airport for two hours." I handed him the sketch I had just drawn.

He took it, looked at it for a good 30 seconds as his eyes got wider and wider. He looked up at me, then down at the sketch again. Then up at me: "Mom! Do you mean ...?"

I nodded, and smiled. Half the sketch was of my face with the word balloon saying "Blake, please be gentle." The other half showed Blake's hard cock pointing at me. It wasn't pointing at my face; it wasn't pointing at the entrance of my vagina; it was pointing toward—the tip barely making contact with—my puckered, tight, virginal anus!

I had decided to let my son have anal sex with me.

He pulled me to my feet and hugged me close and kissed me. Kissed me gently, and then deep. I responded.

I had gone from shocked to frightened to curious to willing. Carrie had tipped the scales. I wanted to be the first for Blake. And I wanted Blake to conquer that last part of me. I desired no physical sexual satisfaction from this. All I wanted was a psychological two-way possession. Blake and I forever bound in that one last act. Carrie would never have that. No other girl ever could again.

Maybe I was twisted or selfish. But, I was carrying my own son's child, and some part of me, a big and powerful part, felt justified for what I was about to do.

"C'mon, Mom." Blake led me to my bedroom. To his dad's bedroom. He was going to take me on his dad's bed. I had changed the sheets that morning, but knew now his dad would not be the first one to lie on them. Ed would have to wallow in the wake of his son's and his wife's anal adventure.

Our clothes melted off each other. We stood again, naked together. It felt more natural and more comfortable each time. I smiled as I thought back to that first scene, when I hesitantly shed my robe in Blake's room so that he could sketch his naked mother.

Blake's mouth roamed over me, kissing and nibbling, and sucking. His hands skimmed my skin, pausing on my slightly protruding belly. He whispered in my ear, "Mom, I'm so happy we're having a baby together."

My mind still reeled at times to come to grips with the fact that this beautiful boy was my son, but he was also the man who had impregnated me. His gorgeous cock had invaded my depths and successfully planted his seed within me. The whole world believed Ed was the father. Only Blake and I knew that this child was not only a brother or sister to Blake, but also a son or daughter. And, as shocking as it may seem, my baby was also a grandson or granddaughter to me! I was going to be a grandmother.

Blake drew the bedcovers down and we simultaneously crawled onto the soft mattress. I was about to tell Blake about a surprise, but he guided me to my back and gently attacked my feet, much like he had done the day before.

This was HIS surprise.

"Oh my God!" I groaned as that irrational jolt of thrill and desire flooded me again as he licked and sucked at every crevice my feet afforded.

When he had me throbbing and writhing at a fever pitch, he started to make his way down my legs. "I'm going to eat that beautiful pussy of yours, Mom," he murmured between kisses.

I didn't protest or hesitate. I said, "Eat me, Blake. Suck my clit!" My voice was cloudy with passion. My mind raced back to the first and only time I had ever had cunnilingus performed on me: that day back in Blake's room. Now it was going to happen again!

He took his time, burying his mouth on my birthing hole. The hole he emerged from and the hole his child would emerge from. It met him with a steady stream of fluids, which he lapped and swallowed.

He brushed his face across my course pubic hair again and again in a sweeping motion of his mouth, washing his chin and cheeks with its roughness. Then he hardened his tongue and ran it through my vaginal slit all the way to my clit.

I jumped and incoherently cried, "NGGGHHH!"

His tongue retraced its way down, down until it strained to reach even lower than before. Blake pushed my knees to my chest and levered my hips up.

This gave him access to what he had lusted over—my asshole. His tongue licked and probed it. "I'm going to fuck you, Mom. Fuck your ass."

All I could say was "Yes!"

My acknowledgement seemed enough to let him return to eating his mom out. He retraced his route to my clitoris and circled it with his rough tongue.

"Unnnggghh!" I breathed. When he began to softly suck on it, my breath came quick and short until it all exploded out of me:

"BLAKE! BLAKE! YEESSS! I'M CUMMING!"

My hips bucked and the vision of my son's handsome face consuming me while my pubic hair consumed him sent my hips vibrating in tune with some inner divine orgasmic chorus. I was privileged to remain in that celestial realm for a good 40 seconds—maybe the longest orgasm I had experienced yet.

Perhaps my body was learning how to endure pleasure in a way I had never thought possible.

I came down into a stupor, barely able to move. Blake crawled up and sucked my breasts and cradled me for a minute. My hand unconsciously sought his hard cock. I encircled it, my fingers unable to fully go around its thickness.

"Mom, that feels so good."

"Blake ..." is all I could hoarsely say.

He made a motion to roll me onto my stomach. I guess his patience was at an end and his apparent excitement and anticipation of the "main event" was taking over.

"Wait," I said, and gently guided him lie flat on his back. I kissed his chest and made my way down to his hard, hot cock. My tongue lashed out and gobbled up the fluids leaking from the tip. Then my lips surrounded my son and I bobbed my head up and down while applying a slight suction.

A boy who's just made his mom cum deserves a little blowjob I thought to myself.

I pulled my mouth off and said, "I have a surprise for you." Then I turned and opened my night stand drawer. I took a small black bottle out and showed it to Blake.

He read the label out loud: "Pjur Back Door Silicone lubricant. MOM! When did you get this?"

"This afternoon, while I was picking up your father's prescription. That's when I made my decision to go ahead with this." I didn't mention what role the encounter with Carrie had in formulating that decision.

I unscrewed the cap and squeezed a generous glop onto my fingers. I thought back to my conversation with my sister and her suggestions. Runway cleared—check! Now all that had to be done was lubricate the "rocket" and the "runway!"

I coated Blake's hardness with the viscous, clear fluid from the bottle. It was amazing and reduced the friction of my hand to practically zero. Blake sighed a soft: "Ooooohhh!" as I rubbed.

Then I got to my knees and told him, "Hold out your right hand." When he did I poured a generous dollop onto the ends of his index and middle fingers. "That's for me," I instructed.

I put the bottle on the night stand and "assumed the position." Blake needed no coaching at this point. Seeing his mom on all fours with her ass wagging in the air gave him all the permission he would ever want.

His fingers found my asshole and rubbed the lube all around my tight anus. "Inside too," I prompted. "Easy, though."

He went slowly, and his finger inserted with almost alarming ease, aided by the miracle lube. Even I was convinced that now I was totally "greased."

"Okay," I said, and steadied the foundation of my stance.

"Why?" Blake asked. His voice was small.

At that moment, I felt a swell of pride for my son. Here he was, about to undertake one of the most bizarre, taboo, sought-after, intoxicating sexual acts a man can achieve—and he took the time to ask. No blind lust here. This proved to me we were sharing.

"I want this, Blake. I want this, maybe not the same way you do, not for the mere pleasure of it. I want to give you this. I want this to be a special gift to my son, my lover, the father of my child. Maybe selfishly, I want to be the first for you. And for me, I want you to be the only man who will ever enter me this way. I want it to be you."

"Are you ready, Mom?"

"Probably not," I said. But we both laughed. "Just go slow."

Blake was standing on his knees and scooted up close to my upturned butt.

"Mom, you ass is so beautiful, and your butthole—"

I reached back, found his slick penis and fit it against my tight little virgin asshole.

Blake pushed microscopically forward and my sphincter expanded slightly. "Ow!" I said.

Blake backed off and then forward again. I held my breath. The pain was unlike anything I had imagined. Not dull, not an ache, but a sharp whip of agony, all concentrated in one tiny area.

"Meh! Meh! Meh!" repeated out of my mouth, a new language of anguish I had just taught myself.

Blake must have been keenly aware, because he asked, "Mom! You want me to stop?"

"Go!" I grunted. I wasn't about to turn back now. "Keep going!"

Every pore of my body spit up a bead of perspiration; I could feel its cold sweat effect.

Blake slowly sawed in, and then out, pushing a little deeper each time. I didn't know if I wished more that it would be over or that I finally knew he was all the way in.

The tremendous girth of his penis hurt more by far than his length.

Finally, I felt Blake close against me, the warmth of his body and the tickle of his sparse pubic hair against my asshole. He had sunk himself to his whole depth. I had taken it all.

"Fuck me, Blake. Fuck Mommy's ass!" Where those words came from I don't know.

And fuck Blake did. He began a series of long slow thrusts deep into my depths.

"Mom! You're so tight!"

It felt tight—excruciatingly tight. But, to my relief, the worst was over. The pain no longer increased. It was actually subsiding. Maybe I was getting used to it. Maybe shock was setting in. Either way, I began to respond more and more to the thrusts. Not a lot, but enough to be a participant and not a statue.

I turned my head and noticed the reflection in my full length mirror. Here I was on all fours, a muscular, handsome 18-year-old boy slamming into me doggie style—my huge breasts swinging wildly beneath me with each brutal impact against my ass. Me, a 41-year old woman—the image imprinted in my brain and sent the realization to my lips "I'm having anal sex with my son!"

That's when Blake yelled: "MOM! MOM!" The head of his penis swelled, stretching that bit of intestine even further, and then Blake's hands pulled my wide-opened butt back against his pelvis as he spewed the gooey contents of his balls deep into my bowels.

My son had fucked my ass and my son had deposited a huge load of cum inside me.

I don't know what I had originally intended to accomplish by this, but as we collapsed together on his father's bed, I knew it had been successful.

*******************************

"Where's Blake?" Ed asked. Then he gave his wife a barely-there peck on the cheek. A wife whose other cheeks were holding back a steady stream of ooze. A wife who was full of his son's cum still.

It was three hours later, and I was picking Ed up at the airport.

"He didn't want to come," I said. "He told me he'd rather draw something."

"Is he giving you trouble? I can talk to him."

I smiled and said, "Sometimes Blake can be a pain in the ass!"