On The Road with My Son

When Joel returned from the bathroom, I'd just begun making my yoga mat bed for the night. He stood close to me and uttered two simple words: "Don't worry."

I should've known what was coming, or at least that something was up with him, but I can be pretty damn naive when it counts. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I love you, Mum. You're so incredibly beautiful, I've wanted you for so long..." Too shocked to react, I stood motionless while my son brushed my hair out of my face before embracing me and kissing me on the mouth.

Words cannot describe how incredibly weird it is to have a family member finally act on years of desire for you, let alone how confusing it is to find yourself suddenly, undeniably attracted to them in return. But if I had to describe it (and since I'm writing this, I guess I do have to describe it), I'd say it's probably the most extreme example of "so wrong it's good" that I've ever experienced. When Joel put his lips on mine and I felt his stubble-beard prickle against my pale skin and my nostrils filled with the strong, sweet aroma of his deodorant, I was equal parts disgusted with ourselves, incredibly horny, intoxicated by the taboo, giddy with adrenaline at the possibility of cheating on my husband, and flattered beyond words by the actions and words sexy young man who found me so desirable he didn't care that he was making a move on the woman who gave birth to him.

As much as my body wanted everything that would happen next, my more rational brain won the fight and once I regained the strength in my arms, I put my arms to his chest - oh God, that solid, young chest - and pushed him away, breaking our kiss.

"Mum, what's wrong? Don't try to tell me you don't want this; I saw the way you were looking at me after I confessed my feelings for you."

I stepped back from him. "It's not as easy as that, darling. I do think you're very sexy, too, and I'm happy to say you're also very sweet and caring and loving. But I'm still very much in love with your father, and since this trip was all about him, I'd feel like such a hypocritical whore if I broke my marriage vows to him for the first time now, and with our own son, no less!"

He stepped closer again, trying not to look intimidating, but not exactly succeeding. He put his hands on my shoulders and gently started massaging me. He stared me deep in the eyes and told me, "Look, just because I'm not married, don't think I don't understand, Mum. But it's just that I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be with. You're so amazingly beautiful and sexy in every way, it pains me to know that your love is wasted on that ungrateful man you're married to. I'm sorry if that hurts, but it's true."

It certainly was true, but I didn't want him to think I agreed. As much as I enjoyed the massage, I gently removed his hands from my shoulders and held them in my hands as I told him, "I love you so much, Joel, but... having sex with my son? It's not something I ever thought I would do, and now that it I'm suddenly faced with the reality of it even possibly happening, the thought petrifies me. I really do love you and I know you're in love with me, but... above everything else, I'm your mother. And as much as you make me feel desired again, I'm just too scared of what could happen if we actually do go through with what you're trying to make happen." I turned away from him with the beginnings of tears in my eyes - I'd never had to be so emotionally honest with Joel before, and it was incredibly difficult. As much to him as it was to myself, I found the strength to say just one more word - "Sorry."

As I began to walk away from my incredibly lovestruck son, he quickly came up behind me and spun me around to face him again. Once again looking deep into my eyes, he said "A wise person once told me it's fun to be naughty every once in a while and just not worry about the consequences."

Before I could say anything else after he'd perverted my own words against me, his lips were on mine again. His stubble-beard prickled against my skin again. My nostrils filled with the strong, sweet aroma of his deodorant again. Again, I was equal parts disgusted with ourselves, incredibly horny, intoxicated with the taboo, giddy with adrenaline at the possibility of cheating on my husband, and flattered beyond words by the actions and words sexy young man who found me so desirable he didn't care that he was about to fuck the woman who his father was married to. I raised my arms and put my hands on his chest again. This time, however, I stopped denying my feelings and admitted that it'd been far too long since I'd felt so desired. Yes, the incest taboo is one of the greatest biological forces in humanity, but it paled in comparison to my desire to feel attractive and sexual again. And I felt so sexy and so wanted and so loved that I'd genuinely stopped caring that it was my son who made me feel that way. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, pressing my lips up into his, moving my hands around his torso and around to his back, embracing him, pulling us closer together than we had been since he was a little boy. I could feel his hardness struggling against his loose-fitting pyjama boxer shorts and pressing into my body. His hands rubbed my back, and he moaned into my lips. I wrapped my arms tight around him and moaned in response. His arms slid down my back and under my butt as he suddenly lifted me up and carried me about eight feet to the bed and he laid me gently down on the hard motel bed linen. He would've done it all without ever breaking our kiss, too, if it didn't make me giggle and cry out "Whee", feeling like a bride on her wedding night.

My legs dangled off the edge of the bed and Joel stood above me, hunched right over. He ran his hands down the sides of my torso and down to my knees and back up, his fingers feeling all the curves of my body. "You're so incredible, Mum," he almost whispered in reverence.

Rather than just predictably reply "You too," I sat up and kissed my son again, this time relishing the feeling of his stubble-beard. He kissed back and we moaned in unison. He opened his mouth slightly and out came his tongue and licked across my lips. I read his cue and opened my mouth, meeting his tongue with my own. Our mouths locked again and our tongues danced wetly in each other's mouth. I held the nape of his neck and moan-sighed as I felt the last semblances of my rational, "incest is wrong" mind slip away and gave in to the pure lust I now felt for the boy I'd raised as my own.

Soon enough, I reached for the bottom of the t-shirt Joel was using as a pyjama shirt and began to slide it up his torso. Once I got it more than halfway, he obliged me by pausing our make out session and slid it over his head, tossing it aside without a care. My son now stood before me and I took a moment to breathe in the sight as a woman instead of as a mother. He has a very nice physique - I'd say he was at the upper reaches of "solid", perhaps sliding into "chubby" if he didn't start cutting back on the fast food. He has nice broad shoulders and his tummy was starting to develop, but you can't tell from the front. He has a little bit of chest hair - around his nipples, in the middle of his chest, and a snail trail that starts just above his belly button. I think he must do some push-ups or something, because his arms are quite nice and fairly large for someone who just drives a truck for eight hours a day. As he looked down at me and I looked up at him, I could definitely see the outline of his manhood begging to be set free from his boxers, but that would come later. For the time being, Joel was more focused on looking at me. He knelt down between my legs in front of the bed and reached for my slip.

I leant back and, propping my butt up with my arms behind me, allowed Joel to lift my slip up above my stomach before I bounced back down and, like my son, took control of the reveal of my own torso. As gracefully as I could with my hands trembling from nervousness and lust, I slid my loose-fitting (unflattering, honestly) slip over my head, deliberately letting it catch on my breasts as I did so. After the brief struggle was over, my breasts jiggled and I threw my slip onto the floor.

Joel's draw dropped wide open, and he stared at my breasts for several seconds without any further movement. If only Mark would look at me that way again! Eventually, his brain started working again and he simply said "Holy fuck." Any other time I would've yelled at him for his language, but I decided to allow for the circumstances.

"I guess I don't have to ask if you like what you see, honey?" I enquired coyly. So this is what it's like to feel sexy; I'd genuinely forgotten. I cupped my breasts in each hand and rubbed my nipples for him.

"Jesus Christ, yes." He practically leapt at me, laying me down on the bed again with his arms either side of me, kissing my cheeks and my neck. We moaned in pleasure together, me doing my best not to flinch or giggle as his stubble tickled my sensitive skin. He kissed his way down the centre of my chest and soon he was face-to-face with my bare breasts for the first time since I weaned him off breast milk so many years ago. He immediately latched onto my right nipple just like he did as an infant. This time, however, was much more about pleasure. I immediately felt my nipple harden in his wet, eager mouth as his hot breath and saliva made contact with my sensitive skin. Moaning intermittently and not content with just sucking my nipple, he also licked it and ran his tongue clockwise and counterclockwise around my areola, truly enjoying playing with his mother's breast for the first time since he was a baby. As he pleasured my right breast, my left did not feel neglected in the slightest - his right hand had a hold of it and he squeezed it firmly but lovingly. He would rub the nipple with his index finger and make it hard in an effort to make it match the right. After a while, he switched and began licking and sucking my left breast while massaging and playing with my right nipple.

Long before his hands ventured that far south, I knew I was wet. I probably had been since that first kiss when I turned him down. Since that kiss, I'd been warm and tingly down between my legs, and I first realised I was so damn moist that I'd begun leaking onto my bikini briefs around the time I'd removed my son's shirt. So by the time he'd begun kissing down from my breasts to my belly button, I was more than ready for Joel to take off my underwear. I squirmed and giggled as he kissed my belly button and my lower tummy. His hands slid down from my breasts and down to my sides and over my hips, where he hooked the sides of my briefs with his fingers and, once I lifted my butt off the bed once again, my son removed my underpants, leaving me totally naked and with his face mere inches away from his birthplace.

Can you believe that I almost didn't want to watch? After how goddamn incredible everything else had been, I didn't want to see him do what he was about to do next? That's not to say I didn't want it; sweet Jesus, I wanted it so bad it almost hurt. I just didn't think I could handle the thought of my son putting his mouth on my most intimate area. But, curiosity got the better of me and thank heavens it did.

I propped myself up on my elbows so I could look down at Joel as he prepared to give oral sex to the woman who gave birth to him. He kissed my inner thighs left to right, inching slightly closer to my womanhood with each kiss. Amazingly, I barely even felt his beard down there. Jesus, he hasn't been this close to me since I gave birth to him. Less than two inches from my outer labia now. Kissing each thigh once more, he paused to inhale my scent. Not just a quick sniff, either; he breathed in as much of my scent as he could. I'm so glad I had just showered!

"God, you smell amazing, Mum." Well, that's a relief.

Wasting no more time, he ran his right hand over my outer lips, slowly working his index and middle finger inside me. Slowly, gently, almost reverently, he started moving them in and out of my hole. I inhaled sharply and exhaled with a moan. Staring down, transfixed by my son's fingering, I watched as he ever so gradually increased his pace. I informed him that it felt "so good", as though he really needed spoken confirmation. It wasn't long after I'd said that when he positioned his thumb so that it started making contact with my clitoris with each inward thrust of his fingers. I responded with an "Oohohoho fuck" of encouragement. I saw him grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He gradually increased his thrust, increasing the rate at which his thumb bumped into my clit. Soon I watched with amazement as my hips started moving by themselves, perfectly matching the rate at which his fingers were moving in and out of me. He curled his fingers up and, with a "come here" motion, started rubbing the G-spot that Mark had never been able to find. Faster and faster, he rubbed my clit and G-spot as I heard my breath getting more and more shallow, and my face getting more and more red. Rocking my hips towards and away from him, soon I was bucking with pleasure as I watched him - my own son - staring intently at my womanhood.

I think I was about to cry "You're gonna make me cum, baby" to him, but all I managed was "You're gonna make m-" before I was knocked flat on my back by orgasm. I felt my eyes roll in the back of my head as I arched my back and spasmed up and down on the bed, fucking my son's fingers as he knelt in front of me like a Catholic at mass. I probably squealed loud enough for the rest of the motel to hear, but I don't care; that orgasm was a long fucking time coming, if you ask me. More than five months of sexual tension suddenly exploded from out of my clit and in a chain nuclear reaction throughout my entire body; I could almost see beams of light shooting from my fingers and toes as I writhed in pleasure with two of my only son's fingers still buried inside me.

It took probably a minute for me to stop breathing as though I'd run a mile. "Oh Jesus, I've never cum like that before, sweetie," I confessed.

"We're not done yet, Mum."

I didn't have time to ask another stupid question like "What?" before I felt him kissing my thighs again. This time he used his hands to keep my legs open while his mouth did the work. He started licking up and down my outer labia before slowly working his way towards the middle of my opening and up to my clitoris. Just when I thought I'd recovered from one orgasm and here he was immediately wanting to give me another? I wish I'd given in to his lust years ago!

Joel moaned into my vagina as he licked my clit, his mouth open around my clit while his tongue protruded from his mouth and flicked my clit slowly but firmly side-to-side. As a mother, I don't really want to know where he learned how to please a woman so well, or how much practice he's had. But as a woman, holy hell am I glad he's had so much experience so young. It almost seemed like second nature to him - he knew exactly how much pressure to apply, when to speed up, how to breathe through his mouth without losing momentum - all the things that Mark would struggle with, Joel knew without me ever saying a word.

Soon enough, my hips started moving again, and I grabbed onto his hair to keep him in place while I ground my vagina into his face. This was the son I'd given birth to, the son I'd raised, the son I loved just slightly more than his sister, and now he was pleasuring me with the same mouth his father and I had spent thousands of dollars for braces on. It was so surreal I could've died. Instead, I looked down past my breasts and hairless crotch to my darling, very sexy son, focused on nothing but giving me as much pleasure as he could. Even more than his amazing tongue work, that was what pushed me over the edge the second time around: where any other guy would be content to skip the foreplay in favour of pure sex, Joel loved me and wanted me to know it, to feel it. And God, feel it I did.

My hips grinding right into his face, my breath becoming shorter and faster, his tongue now tiring but not giving him up after more than six minutes, I felt how much Joel loved me for the second time that night. I squealed like a girl at a Beatles concert and almost doubled over as I rode the orgasm wave, curling my toes right up, feeling my face and chest grow red and hot, my body glistening with sweat, my hair sticking to my face and neck and back. I spasmed and squirmed and told my son that I loved him, all while his face was buried between my legs, his magnificent tongue working overtime until my orgasm finally subsided.

Neither of us spoke; we both knew what would happen now. He stood up, wiped my juices from his chin and cheeks and he stepped out of his boxer shorts, finally revealing to me his throbbing manhood. Eight hard, hot circumcised inches stood thrusting from his neatly trimmed pubic hair. I felt guilty comparing him to his father at first, but that was before I noticed the difference in father and son. Mark wanted Joel to be circumcised "so he can be like his dad and there's no awkward questions". But Mark wasn't as thick as his son, and does it sound strange to say that I just liked the way Joel's veins looked more than Mark's? Anyway, I was certainly impressed with just how much of a man our son had become. Not wanting to spoil the moment by mentioning his father, I chose to keep that fact to myself for the time being. Instead, I simply instructed him, "Come home to Mum."

Without a moment's hesitation, he climbed on top of me and effortlessly guided himself back inside me. The sensation of my son sliding his rock hard cock into my wet opening was incredible. So much smoother, and infinitely more pleasurable than the last time he was inside me. The feeling of my own son entering me felt so natural and beautiful, disgusted feelings and horrified thoughts didn't even get a chance to form in my mind. I could feel every beat of his heart through his cock as he started to slowly slide in and out of me, our eyes fixed on each other's as mother and son made love for the first time.

He leaned down as I reached up to kiss him and wrap my arms and legs around his torso. With that, he slid even deeper into my vagina, and I took him all the way to the hilt. Our mouths locked in an open-mouthed kiss and our tongues resumed their frantic, wet dance. He thrust faster and faster inside me and I met his thrusts with my own, driving my hips forward to meet his dick. His hands found their way back to my chest, and with each thrust Joel squeezed my breasts.

We stayed that way - my legs and arms wrapped around his naked body, him squeezing my breasts as we made love with mutual thrusting and a never-ending tongue kiss - for about five minutes before Joel's breathing changed, becoming more rapid and shallow. I'd had sex enough times to know what was happening next.

Reluctantly breaking our kiss, I stared into my son's eyes and told him, "Cum inside me, baby."

"Oooh fuck," was his reply as he squeezed my breasts harder, like he was hanging onto them for dear life.

I could tell he was trying to hold back from cumming. Maybe he was afraid of getting me pregnant - a fair risk considering I hadn't yet gone through menopause, but I still took the pill religiously even though my more rational brain told me there wasn't any point anymore with how rare it is for Mark and I to make love. Or maybe Joel was simply trying to last as long as possible for me since it was our first time, but I honestly didn't care. After those two amazing orgasms I'd already had, I wasn't exactly looking for a third. All I wanted at that moment was for him to have an orgasm that would hopefully rival one of mine. "Don't worry, baby, just cum inside me," I implored him breathlessly as he picked up his thrusting pace.