Yes, there certainly is something special about deliberately impregnating someone you love.
Answering her question and falling in with the sentimental mood I said, “If they really loved each other they’d probably get married.”
“Mmm,” mother said, using the remote to turn the sound down again, leaving the room bathed in the flickering light of the TV, “that’s how the film should have ended.”
She moved slightly and her head came to rest on my chest, her dark hair spreading like a fan.
“That’s nice,” she said, snuggling even closer to me.
For me it wasn’t “nice,” because my penis started to weep precum and I needed to go to my room and masturbate. My heart was pounding and my penis seemed to be jerking in rhythm with it.
Mother laid an arm over me and hugging said, “That scene by the stream was wonderful, it left so much to the imagination and it makes me wish that I was that woman and I was having sex with a good looking young man who loved me.”
I could have pointed out that we didn’t really know if they had sex, but I had caught mother’s romantic mood, and so I murmured, “Yes, me too.”
Silence ensued and where our bodies were touching I could feel the sweat forming. Mother moved again and this time her lips were very close to mine and I could feel her warm breath.
“Really,” she said, “You’d like to have been that boy with the woman.”
I had known mother to be affectionate with me many times, but I had never known her to be in a mood like this; it was frankly seductive. “Well you’d have liked to be the women,” I said defensively.
“Yes,” she replied, “I would like to be with a young man who wanted to make love with me.”
She kissed me, her lips soft and warm but only lightly touching mine, and then she said again, “So you’d like to have been that boy?” She kissed me again but this time nibbling on my lower lip, and like a film repeating itself she said, “And I’d like to be that woman with a young lover.”
She had driven me too far; the last threads of my self control snapped and I flung her over on to her back and kissed her, and to my surprise her lips parted and then my tongue was in her mouth and my hand went to one of her breasts. I could feel its yielding fullness and I expected any moment for her to resist me. Instead her tongue started to tangle with mine and she made no move to remove my hand from her breast.
When our kiss came to an end she said one word, “Darling.” Just that single word, but it was not simply the word, it was the passionate tremor in her voice that signalled to me that I was free to take her. If I needed confirmation she pulled up her nightdress and parted her legs to reveal her genitals; the little triangle of pubic hair just above the long cleft of her vulva.
I tore off my jock and came between her legs probing with the head of my penis for the entrance to her vagina. Just before I penetrated her she gasped, “Yes darling, but don’t come in me because I can still get pregnant, promise you’ll pull out of me when you come.”
I promised, but at that moment I think I would have promised anything just to have my penis in her.
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