To make love with my son a second time took away any chance of rationalising what we had done as a moment of weakness.
I wanted not just a man inside me again – I specifically wanted Tom my son to be inside me again.
Just as the first time, the love making was pure and simple. His eager and throbbing erection needed no stimulation and for the second time I simply lay back and opened my legs to my son. This time it was slow and tender, the eager passion already pumped into my hidden depths by him had gone.
I felt his big penis slide into me and take me to heaven and back, unhurried, carefully and tenderly.
We came together professing our love for each other.
That night I slept naked in my son’s arms. I felt a warm, contented and satisfied woman, with the first piece of true happiness that she had ever known.
The next morning I was again afraid that in the cold light of day what we had done would feel sordid, tacky and cheap. I wanted Tom to feel at ease around me, so after showering I made a deliberate point of remaining naked in front of him for as long as I could.
It was surreal, to sit at my dressing table naked, my quite large yet still hard and proud breasts swaying when I moved, whilst Tom made no pretence or offered no apology for watching me transfixed.
I turned to face him and picked up my panties. As I slid them up my thighs and reached the black curly triangle between my legs, I hesitated and playfully teased him for one more moment before pulling the lace over my mound and hiding it from him. The coquettish act giving him yet another erection, which unfortunately we had no time to cure.
Throughout the day I was in turmoil. I was nervous, excited, turned on, horny and damn wet, yet I was also scared, frightened and afraid of what I had done and what the consequences could be. When I realised just how dangerous the situation was I made a decision.
Before I put the rules into place that I had decided upon, I wanted Tom once more.
That evening after eating and doing the dishes Tom went to his room to study. I gave him plenty of time, then turning off the TV and the lights I followed him up.
I knocked and entered his bedroom, he had finished studying and was getting ready to come to my bed. I stood in his arms by his bed and we kissed. It was incredibly strange to kiss him, yes we had made love, yet kissing your own son in this manner was surreal.
“Mum?”
“What darling,”
“Will you suck my cock?”
I was shocked and stunned.
Just as making love a second time had ‘sealed the deal’ so to speak, then performing oral sex on my son would propel things even further. The request shocked me.
I was also shocked at the language he had used. In my life without sex and without a man, my terminology had stayed quite juvenile. My breasts, vagina, his penis, had all been the words I had used in my thoughts as things were happening. Now my son wanted me to suck his cock and the breathtakingly provocative idea, thrilled and excited me with the illicit immorality of the act.
“I will do anything for you.” I said, trying to hide my own sudden rush of passion in my mind and between my legs. The excitement, with the knowledge of the act I was about to perform, was a huge turn on.