Like. Quitting. Fucking. Heroine.
The first day went by easy, effortless; it gave me the illusion, the ridiculous false hope that I could just switch this off, and be a mother again.
Despite all the hardships and heartaches it entailed, being a parent has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. Watching Erik grow from nothing into a baby, baby to boy, boy into man, felt special. I always loved him, and ever since he could smile, I knew he loved me back, completely, unconditionally. Nothing like his father.
When I first met John, he was Prince Charming, he was Aladdin, he was the Beast after breaking the curse. Little I knew, he was more of a Jafar, or the Beast before the curse. For some time I managed to convince myself that I loved him, that he was more than an easy access to what at the time I believed was everything I ever wanted: a life of privilege, indulgence, carefree. It took me months to realize what a stupid fucking mistake I made.
He paraded me at his parties, his fundraisers, his events. He showed me off like he would a sports car, further proof of his success. That is what his -- and consequently my life was all about. A never-ending grind to prove to the world how much of a man he was. Even our vacations were always carefully tailored to project the right image. I could bear that, perhaps. What I couldn't bear was the solitude not having any life outside of his, no friend of my own, no money that he did not give me. And whenever I dared speak my mind, Prince Charming never failed to remind how grateful I should be, how many would have begged for the life I had, how easily I could be replaced. Yes, it took me just a few months to understand where I stood. It took me ten fucking years to admit it.
When I finally had it, he didn't believe for a moment that I would actually leave. It shocked him even more that I would give up all his money as long as I could keep custody of Erik.
Since then, the one true man in my life has been my son. There were others, of course, but none I would keep. At best, they reminded me how far I fell from grace; the worst were stark reminders that I was no longer in my prime. Same with my career, or lack thereof. It was not easy to get back into the job market in my thirties, with little education, less experience, and as a single mother. I went from flying to Europe or Hawaii twice a year to barely being able to afford a night out once a month.
So, after a never-ending sequence of wrong choices, I ended up all alone with Erik, and he kept me in one piece. His smiles, his hugs, his laughter made it all make sense, made it all worth it. There were moments of friction, of course, and the absence of a real father figure was hard-felt. Still, we were always there for each other, and we became close, closer than most in our situation often are. Somehow, fucking him may have slightly banged up this beautiful dynamic.
I still cannot wrap my head around what got into me. A less rational person would say I was possessed by a demon. But no, there is no alien entity I can blame for my decisions. I did it. I did it because I was genuinely tempted, and I kept doing it because it felt fucking good.
Erik's got all my energy, all my appetite, except it is mixed with youthful curiosity and manly urges. He is me, but male, and on raging hormones. And, by God, is he a good fuck.
Ever since I lost my virginity -- and perhaps even before -- I always had a good relationship with sex. Men liked me a lot; a few women too, though I could never return their interest.
Finding a partner who could match my energy was always a bit of a challenge, and I always felt somewhat embarrassed by the fact that most guys had a hard time keeping up with me. I ended up believing that it was my fault, that something was wrong with me. If so, then I guess Erik has inherited my problem. Who would've thought we would be each other's solution?
In bed, Erik is caring and insatiable. Tending to his needs felt fulfilling and rewarding. Sucking his cock, squeezing it between my tits, having it unleash all its energy on my pussy, it all felt like doing something noble and just. It also helped that his cock tasted so fucking good and made me cum so fucking hard. The fact that he is who he is and I am who I am made it even more disgustingly hot. If this is what hell feels like, I don't think I want to go to heaven.
Then came the broken condom, one hell of a wake-up call. Ten weeks of accumulated guilt came down upon me like water breaking through a dam. The tide swept me away. If I didn't want both of us to drown, I had to stop this. It wasn't easy. I came to mean to Erik as much as he meant to me. But thank God, I still love my son more than I love his cock, just like he loves me more than my pussy, or my mouth, or tits, or legs, or hands, or feet.
But that was just day one. Now, it has been a week, and I am fucking burning.
When I go to bed, it feels empty. No warm skin on mine, no broad chest to lay my head upon. I spend a good chunk of the night tossing and turning; when I eventually manage to fall asleep, I get wet dreams, vivid ones. I wake up in the middle of the night, sweaty and unfulfilled. The only thing I can do to get a semblance of respite is masturbate furiously. Only after making myself cum -- which is easier said than done since my thoughts always lead back to him -- do I manage to catch some precious shut-eye. In the morning, I wake up unrested, bothered, and so alone.
I miss the morning sex. I miss the midday, early-afternoon, late-afternoon, before and after dinner, before sleep, and midnight sex. I miss the long, relaxing hours of intimacy in our little world within the safety of our home. I miss the quick escapades in public places, including but not limited to a parking lot, the side of a road, a movie theatre, the bathrooms of a movie theatre, the bathrooms of a restaurant, a park and -- our personal record in both depravity and thrill -- an elevator in my office building downtown.
The drug metaphor is fitting, and it does not help that I still live with my pusher.
It is ironic, and perhaps dangerous, that the only person who can help me get through this difficult moment is also the source of my temptation. Erik cannot simply move out. And if he could, he wouldn't. And if he would, I am not sure I would let him. I believe I can stop being his girlfriend, no matter how hard the withdrawal feels, but I cannot and will not stop being his mother.
So I endure. Day after day, after day, I endure.
"Morning, hon," I greet him as I walk into the kitchen.
"Morning, Mom," he returns with a forced smile.
I can scarcely bear that mix of sadness and desire he all too often looks at me with. It's the same face he made when I told him we had to end this. No complaining, no grumbling, or whining, just the sad acceptance of the inevitable coming too soon. A beautiful sunset -- at noon.
"Did you sleep well?" he asks me, pouring me some coffee.
"So and so," I lie. "You?"
"Same thing, really." His gaze lingers on my chest, a mix of lust and nostalgia.
"Eyes up here, young man," I tease him.
"It would be easier to keep them away from you if you put on a shirt." He chuckles.
I look down and only now realize I am wearing nothing but my bra and panties. Between August and October, I completely lost the habit of wearing clothes around Erik. This particularly hot November is not helping either.
"S-sorry!" I cover my chest, as if that could help. "I'll go get one."
"You can have mine," he jokes, or at least I think he is joking.
"It's okay." I stop him from showing off that body that I traded my soul for. "I'll... I'll be right back."
"Mom, I don't mind."
"Yes, that's exactly the problem."
I quickly go through my wardrobe and recover my tracksuit. Not even Aphrodite would look attractive in this thing.
Breakfast is heavy with awkwardness, just like every meal we have shared since then. We eat without appetite, and steal glances with tired eyes. We both make an effort to conceal our longing, with little success.
"So," I begin, if anything but to break the unbearable silence. "Any plans for the weekend? Going to the beach?"
"Maybe, if it doesn't get too chilly," he shrugs. "You?"
"Julia invited me to a girls' night out." My genuine enthusiasm catches him off guard.
"Cool." He smiles. "Can I come along?"
"Ha-ha." I bury him in sarcasm.
"You will need someone to drive you home."
"We'll share a cab," I say. "And believe me, you don't want to be stuck with a bunch of forty-year-olds acting like they were half their age."
"I believe I would," he goes on, chuckling. "You are fun when you are tipsy."
Yeah, fun, that's the problem. I don't trust myself being fun next to Erik.
"You are way better off staying home playing Forthknight with your friends."
"Forthknight?" He laughs at my expense.
I finish breakfast with a mild sense of victory. The interaction was slightly less awkward, a tiny bit less tense. While getting changed into my office attire, I notice that my nipples are not rock-hard as they tend to become in Erik's presence, and my panties are just barely wet. There is yet light at the end of this fucking long tunnel.
I put on the bare minimum amount of makeup and head out. I am halfway through the door when my pusher calls me.
"Hey, Mom, do you want a ride?" He tempts me.
"I'll ride the bus."
"Are you sure?"
He stares at me in melancholic disappointment. He misses being my chauffeur as much as I miss being his passenger. But that car is full of the wrong kind of memories. Spending ten minutes at a bus stop, twenty minutes on the bus, and another twenty-five on the subway is, all things considered, a small price to pay.
"Quite sure." I head out.
"Can I get a hug?" he asks, freezing me in place. "Hugs are still okay, yes?"
"Of course, they are," I answer, much more slowly than a mother should.
I let him take me in his arms, and we both squeeze each other with forgivable affection. We linger, then we linger some more. God, he smells amazing.
"Not too bad, is it?" he says.
"'Course not," I lie out of my teeth.
It is bad. In fact, it is terrible. My nipples turn hard enough to cut diamonds, and I can already feel that warmth between my legs growing moist.
"Can I give you a kiss?"
I'm not sure if he is still teasing me or is actually being careful. Either way, I am touched and unable to say no. I offer him my cheek, and he presses his lips on it. It burns. I return the kiss upon his cheek, once, then twice. If he asks for a blowjob next, he is getting it.
"I'll see you tonight." He lets me go, regretfully, and regretfully, I step back.
In the evening, I come back from the office exhausted by all the crunching I did to keep my thoughts at bay. When I arrive home, I kick off my shoes, swearing not to put them back on until Monday.
Erik has already returned from school, as usual. Less usual is the fact that he is not on the sofa playing video games. I hear the shower going upstairs. Sadly, that is a bit of a relief, a good excuse to procrastinate our conversation a little bit more.
I am about to head upstairs myself when I notice something on the small table. Erik left his phone downstairs. An unhealthy thought intrudes into my mind, and before I can decide whether I should act on it, I already am.
I double-check that the shower is still running and see if the phone is unlocked. It isn't, obviously. I don't know his PIN code, but I saw him unlock it with just one thumb a billion times. It's a combination of two numbers on the right side of the screen. three-six-three-six, perhaps?
Apparently not. Of course, what did I expect? I put the phone back down. I don't want to explain to Erik why he is locked out of his device. Again, I am about to climb the stairs when I return to the phone. I try again. Six-nine, six-nine. The phone is unlocked. God, he can be such a child.
Violating my son's privacy is not exactly ethical, but getting nearly impregnated by him was also somewhat far from ideal conduct. I doubt this will put much of a dent in my already vastly compromised karma score.
I will check his browsing history and find exactly what I expected. I can tell why he would pick me over Mindy. PAWGS and latinas, for the most part. The criteria seem bound to body structure rather than ethnicity. Good. I did not raise a racist.
The water upstairs is still going. Erik is taking his time, just like I am taking mine. What crime are you going to commit next, Claire?
There are something like thirty unread messages in a group chat simply called The Dudes. I know these guys. They are Erik's surfing buddies. I browse through the conversation. I doesn't take long to find what I was looking for.
Erik: yo yo yo boys, gather up. I got news.
Zane: oh shit here we go, you knocked up Mindy
Erik: What? No!
Erik: Told you, me and her are done
Ty: for like the fifth time
Erik: water under the bridge
Erik: stfu, I'm serious. I met someone
Ty: that's good to hear bro
Zane: who?
Erik: older woman
Ty: define older. cougar or grandma?
Erik: milf
Erik: like actual milf
Zane: noooo way, my man's living the pornhub sidebar fantasy :D
Ty: who is she?
Zane: it's not Tyron's mom, is she? Cause i still have hopes
Ty: Bro...
Erik: nah, not like that. she's classy. smart. beautiful as hell
Zane: but still... saggy tits? or like gym milf with fake ones?
Erik: shut up. none of that. she's perfect.
Ty: perfect? bro you sound whipped already. you smash?
Erik: yeah. we did.
Zane: details. NOW.
Ty: yeah, no gentleman bs. give us the fine juice
Erik: it was... insane. like nothing I ever had before
Zane: bet she sucked you like she was stealing your soul :D
Ty: she ride you like rent's due?
Erik: ...both. yeah.
Zane: holy shit!
Zane: Pics bro, where are the pics?
Erik: listen, it wasn't just sex. we connected. she's different.
Ty: bro gets one milf and suddenly he's speaking in haikus
Erik: no pics, sorry
Zane: you're just pussy-drunk.
Ty: bro got hit with the GILF grenade. rip.
Erik: she kinda dumped me tho.
Ty: HAHAHAHAHAHA
Zane: wait wait... you mean you got ONE night and she ghosted your dumb ass?
Erik: more like two months. And not ghosted. she said it was a mistake. like she regrets it.
Ty: ooooooof milf smashed, dashed, and trashed
Zane: bro thought he found love, she just needed vitamin D and bounced.
Erik: fuck you guys!
Erik: it wasn't like that.
Ty: nah nah, it was EXACTLY like that. you were the pool boy. she got her service. game over.
Zane: next time she's horny, she'll call the pizza guy.
Erik: Will you assholes stop jerking and give me some advice?
Erik: I gotta win her back
Ty: you broke rule number one: never catch feelings for the milf.
Zane: rule number two: always take pics
Erik: Guys, for fucking real, what do I do?
Ty: what you do? you forget her, bro. go rail some age-appropriate pussy. problem solved.
Zane: true that
Erik: I don't want some random hookup. I want her
Ty: ouch
Zane: lovesick for some soccer mom with stretch marks :D
Erik: screw you
Zane: dude she's done with you. milfs don't do second chances. they move on to the next pool boy
Erik: I'm telling you she is not over me
Erik: I hope
Ty: bro, for real, makes you think she even wants you back?
Erik: well, she keeps me around, kinda
Zane: lol
Zane: bro, that's not romance, that's regret.
Ty: it's like crack--she got a taste, panicked, swore it off
Erik: then how the fuck do I show her I'm not just a fling?
Zane: lmao good luck convincing a milf she's your soulmate.
Ty: Bro, for real. Best thing you can do is forget about it
The rest of the conversation veers into healthy futility. Ah, these kids. Vulgar as that may be, they were at least giving some sound advice. I just hope, and fear, Erik took it to heart.
I should just end it there but -- there is another conversation that gets my attention. Mindy's. I really, really, really shouldn't.
Erik: hey, i need some advice.
Mindy: ...from me?
Erik: yeah?
Mindy: about her?
Erik: you are my only female friend
Mindy: is that what we are now?
Erik: your choice not mine, remember?
Mindy: whatever. so what's the deal this time?
Erik: she has been sending me some mixed messages
Mindy: like what?
Erik: like she goes on and on sayin that I am young, need to live my life, should not waste time with her, that kinda stuff
Mindy: How much older is she exactly?
Erik: does it matter?
Mindy: kinda, yeah
Erik: she is... bout twice our age
Mindy:?? jesus, erik
Erik: what? she's hot
Mindy: hot or not, a woman who jumps a guy half her age? that's not normal
Erik: excuse me, i happen to be a very good seducer. maybe she just couldn't resist.
Mindy: oh my god, you're serious
Erik: yeah, i'm serious!
Mindy: no, you're delusional. you sound like a perv bragging about your "skills," and she sounds like a bigger perv for letting it happen.
I have to put the phone down. And I won't pick it up. I won't.
Erik: ...wow. thanks
Mindy: just being honest
Erik: look, I know she is still into me, okay?
Erik: after giving me that speech I mean
The next message comes several minutes later, as if Mindy wrote it, deleted it, and wrote it again many times.
Mindy: look, wanna get her back? You give her space. don't whine, don't guilt-trip, don't act like a kid who lost his toy. show her you can handle the age gap without acting like it's a big deal.
Erik: so just... wait?
Mindy: yeah, you fucking wait. You get clingy
Erik: No, I don't!
Mindy: yeah, you do. And that will only push her away. Stay put and give her time
Erik: ...and what if she doesn't come back?
Mindy: what do you think? You move on. Go to a strip club or something
The conversation pretty much dies there.
That same night, Julia and I meet at the very same wine bar I had my disastrous date a few months back, the same one that kicked off my madness. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if the encounter had gone a little better. Maybe we would've had a second date, or even a third. Maybe I would not have fallen into Erik's arms. I don't know if I should regret that series of events and thank God for it. No matter what, part of me will always feel guilty for what happened, and another will always be happy it did.
"Hey, Claire!" Julia calls for me from the bar, always one glass ahead of me.
"Hey, Julie." We greet each other with a quick kiss on the cheek, loud and without any real contact.
"That is one nice dress you got there?"
"Oh, this rug?" I look down at my seafoam green shroud. "The one good thing I got from that stupid date." Aside from my beautiful son's cock, that is.
"Well, good thing you kept it, 'cause you're killing it!" She flatters me with loud, appreciative noises -- the kind that cannot, and should not, be translated. "Makes me regret being straight."
"Right..." I smirk, eyeing the half-empty bottle of prosecco.
We finish our first bottle with concerning speed, and pop open the second one, the best way to jumpstart the conversation -- at least according to Julia.
We laugh, we joke, we go through the second bottle much more slowly and cheerfully than the first. Two-thirds of the way through, my tipsiness turns to drunkness, and my cheerfulness to gloom.
"Something the matter, Queen?" she asks, filling up my flute with bubbly sin.
"I just had a rough couple of days." This is the only truth I am willing to share at the moment.
"You look a little under the weather. You didn't catch a cold, did you?" The pandemic was especially rough on Julia. She has been a bit of a hypocontriac ever since.
"No, just--" I am about to do something unbelievably stupid. "Just enduring the effects of a hormonal h-bomb."
She pauses her typing. "You mean...?"
"Uh-huh."
"Claire, you slut!" She smiles like a prospector looking at a glint of gold. "How was it?"
"It was..." Formidable, fantastic, fantasmagorical. "Good."
"Details, girl. I want details. Who was it?" She gets way too giddy for comfort. "It was not the guy on the younger side, was he?"
She looks so excited about the idea that I would be heartless to conceal the truth. I nod, and she squeals like an anti-air-raid siren.
"Okay, now you gotta tell me all about it. Was this the second time you met or--?"
"Second time?" I laugh. "More like the fifth."
"How long have you two been--?"
"That day," I smirk at her. "It was the fifth time that day."
I am actually not confident about that number, but who was counting? It doesn't matter. It shocks Julia, and that's all I wanted. What's wrong, Julie? If you can't handle the heat, you should stay out of the oven. I finish my chalice in one go and hand it out for a refill.
"My God," says she, hesitant to pour me more wine -- hesitant to believe me. "So this is serious."
"It was -- Getting serious, I mean."
"Oh." She falls silent, which I suppose counts as a victory, if a pyrrhic one. "We'll need another bottle."
About halfway through bottle number three of Mionetto, I poured out the whole story, in every sordid detail -- except for the identity of the stud who has been riding this drunken mare, of course. The amount of alcohol necessary for me to confess that would literally kill me.
"Clair, girl," says Julia, as if about to cry, or possibly puke. "You screwed a kid who could have very well been your son, and for that, I salute you. You are a feminist icon and a hero."
We drink to that, which is wrong, for an infinite number of reasons.
"And now?" She asks, sobering. "Is it really over?"
"I believe it is." My head feels heavy, and I lower it onto my folded arms on the table.
"I see..." She pauses, momentarily. "Regrets?"
I have regrets within regrets. I have a whole regret-shaped castle, and each brick is another smaller regret.
"We are in two completely different phases of our lives," I blubber on. "He is eager, curious. He wants to experiment."
"Oh, I see." She smirks. "The best men are immature at forty, let alone twenty."
"He isn't immature!" How dare she speak like that of my beloved Erik? Oh, she's gonna hear it now. "He is -- was the best in the sheets and in the streets. He was always punctual, he always listened, always helped with chores, always made me feel loved, always made me feel desired. He was everything I looked for in a man. Everything!"
"I see." She holds her smirk, despite my outpour. "So why stop this? Just because of a small accident."
"It wasn't a small accident!" Or was it? No, no, no, it wasn't. It absolutely was not. "The point is, he is at the age of discovery. Me? I am desperately trying to settle down."
Her smile weakens at the word desperately. "Okay... I had no idea you were so eager to get married again."
"I am not." God knows, once was plenty.
"Okay, settling down, whatever." She takes another pause, always a short one. "I don't see why you should stop when you've got a good thing going, but you do you."
"What's the point of keeping going when there's nowhere to go?" Except down a cliff.
"Hey, not all good things are meant to last forever," she says, proud of her own wisdom.
"But what if he grows too attached? What if I grow too attached?"
"Same as always, you set boundaries."
"Boundaries." The word sounds hollow. What boundaries can I have with Erik?
"Claire, I don't mean to pry." I ready for a moon-sized but. "But what exactly are you afraid of?"
"I..." Jesus, how the fuck am I supposed to explain this? "I guess I am afraid I will hurt him." And possibly ruin both of our lives.
"You truly care that much?" she asks.
"Yeah, I guess I do."
"Then, you really should keep going."
And, until the end of the night, she says nothing.
To get a home, we share an Uber. Female driver, of course, for comfort and sympathy.
I give Julia a hurried and rather tipsy goodbye before heading back inside. I expect to find Erik on the couch, venting his own frustration on some unfortunate twelve-year-old on the other side of the country. Except he isn't. Where in the world is he?
Has he gone out? Why didn't he tell me? Was the car in the garage? Maybe I should check. Good God, I feel so alone all of a sudden.
Going to the garage does not feel like the best of ideas, right now. In fact, my best option is probably just going upstairs and crashing on the bed while my legs can still realistically carry me there. I'll take off the makeup in the morning.
As I crawl my way to the bedroom, something grabs my attention. Music? Pounding, pumping, painfully generic electronic beats. Not Erik's usual lo-fi. The hell's going on in there?
My sober self would knock and call for him, but sober Claire is still at the bar, and it will take her at least a few hours to catch up with me. I turn the knob like I was cracking a safe and push the door just enough for me to peek inside.
Erik is sitting at his desk, right hand firmly on the mouse, left hand on his joystick, playing my favourite game. The screen on his laptop flashes with a quick succession of 3D animated characters getting it on in all possible ways. There is a remarkable variety of them, many curvy ladies, many well-endowed boys, many well-endowed curvy ladies, some with tails, some with horns, big tits and assess either colliding with or welcoming huge cocks.
Not my cup of tea. Like most of my peers, I like my porn in the written form, wrapped in a semblance of plot and pretense of literature. It seems to work for Erik, though. He is rock hard, and judging by the rhythm he his stroking his erection with -- something I am shamefully familiar with -- he is not too far away from cumming.
I feel a spark of jealousy. What have these digital sluts done to deserve my son's delicious cum? He should not waste his milk like this. It should go to me, on my chest, on my face, into my mouth. God, he is doing it wrong. He will irritate his skin. Why is he not using the oil I bought for him? Of course, it's still in my room. Should I go get it for him? Jesus, I need help.
I fight the urge to crawl inside and get under his desk, so I can take his cock out of his hand and in my mouth. Instead, I close the door to let him finish. What I will do now is act as a mother. I will turn on my heels, head to my room, lie on the bed, and masturbate until I fall asleep.
Unfortunately, my ability to manoeuvre in these heels is compromised.
"Oh, shit!"
I lose balance, in spectacular fashion, and crash onto the floor with little grace or dignity.
"Mom?"
Erik opens the door. He clearly pulled his pants up in a hurry, and he did a poor job at concealing his erection.
"Jesus, are you okay?" He helps me up.
"I'm fine," I mumble.
"Here, I'll help get to your room."
"I'm fine, seriously."
I am more than fine. Being forced onto his shoulder is more than I could ask for. Also, I have so much alcohol in me that I would not feel the bite of a shark.
Erik carries me to my bed, and I enjoy his warmth and smell all along the way. I pretend to stumble a couple of times, accidentally brushing against his cock and apologising with a very unconvincing 'oopsie'.
He delicately lays me onto the bed and helps me out of these infernal shoes.
"Well, here is the guilty party." He shows me my right shoe; the heel came right off. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"
"Um... maybe a little?"
He passes his hand over my right ankle. God, I missed his caresses.
"Mom, you think you twisted it."
"Twisted it?"
"It's swellin' up already." He sounds concerned. Silly Erik. "Maybe we should go to the hospital?"
"To the--" Oh no, fuck that. "Erik, it's just a sprain."
"It's ballooning!"
"Erik, I am not spending the next six hours in the ER just to have someone hand me a bag of ice and an eight-hundred-dollar bill."
"Okay, but--"
"Just get me some ice from the fridge, okay?"
He runs downstairs and comes back with a bag of little frozen cubes, well wrapped in a towel. The jiggling alone is already soothing.
Despite being so agitated, Erik applies the remedy with all due care and accuracy. It almost makes me forget I just saw him stroking that beautiful cock of his just five minutes ago.
He kneels by the bed, lifts my foot onto his thigh, and examines the swelling. His hands are gentle but sure as he presses around the tender spot, cool fingers tracing small circles on my skin before distributing the weight of the ice. I feel the cold seeping through the towel. What little pain I could feel is further numbed. Only his warmth lingers, and makes me ache in ways no sprain ever could.
"You would make a passable nurse, you know?" I tease him.
"Yeah, I don't think I would look good in the uniform."
"Nonsense, you would look hot." My teasing turns to sad flattery. "Like a very young Mark Sloan."
"Who?" He asks, puzzled as I have ever seen him.
"But from the very early seasons, you know? Gosh, where would you find time to operate?"
He chuckles, hard. "You are rambling."
I guess I am, and I'd better stop before I say something I regret.
"Erik?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you mind sleeping with me tonight?"
"W-what? You mean in your bed?"
"It feels empty and cold. I feel empty and cold. Please, stay with me."
He hesitates. I never saw him hesitate like this.
"I'm... not sure that would be a good idea."
I spread my legs for him, pulling my panties aside and setting my embarrassing wetness on full display.
"You can fuck me if you want," my mouth says without consulting the brain. "I don't think I will remember anything in the morning. And even if I did, I'll pretend I don't."
He freezes. His eyes fill up with desire and desperation. Like he was in the middle of the desert, dying of thirst, and having just spotted an oasis just beyond the next dune. Only it is salvation, or is it a mirage?
"You can cum inside me?" I tease him further, gorging on my lips.
"I-inside you?" His jeans look dangerously swollen up. Just a little bit more, and his cock will rip them open.
"Who knows, with a little bit of luck, you might get me pregnant." I stretch my pussy open for him, so that he may better see how much the idea makes me fucking wet. "Then, like it or not, I would have to be all yours forever. What do you think?"
He storms out of the room.
Claire... What the fuck... were you thinking?
I fucked up. Like, really fucked up. I spend the rest of the night between a drunken stupor and slow, sobering shock. Part of me would like to get up and run after Erik, trying to explain the unexplainable and fix the unfixable. The rest of me has more sense and keeps me chained to the bed. Also, my ankle fucking hurts.
The morning I limp down the stairs, repeating in my head the mother of all apologies, which I will recite to my poor, possibly traumatized boy. Only he is not there.
"Erik?"
I somehow manage to get myself back upstairs and check if he's still in bed. He is not there either, or in the bathroom, or in the living room, or anywhere else. He is gone.
I crash on the couch, ankle aching, legs failing, and heart broken. Where is he? Did he run away? No. No, no, no. I gotta call him.
I nearly kill myself searching for my phone, only to find it dead. My charger is upstairs, of course, which might as well be a parallel universe. I have the audacity to try the climb anyway, and that leads to catastrophic consequences.
I lose my balance and instinctively put my weight on the ankle, which gives in with a loud and concerning crack. I crumble onto the stairs. Misery and pain join forces, finally overcoming what little self-control I still had. I break down into tears, and cry like I never did in the last thirty years.
That's it. I ruined my life. I ruined his life. Our family is gone. How the fuck has it come to this? How? You goddamn well know how, Claire. You felt alone. You felt abandoned. And how did you react? You fucked your son. You pathetic, selfish, shameless fucking slut!
"Mom?"
I suffocate my sobs, God, I did not even hear the door open. Erik turns the corner and sees me at my lowest. I want to die.
"Jesus Christ! Are you okay?" He runs to me.
"I-I fell."
"You are crazy moving around with that ankle," he chuckles. "Why didn't you wait in bed?"
"I couldn't find you! I thought..." I dare not speak those words out loud.
"Didn't you get my text?" he asks, either oblivious of my turmoil or pretending to be.
"W-what text?"
"I went to the pharmacy." He presents me with an ACE bandage.
I am such an idiot.
Erik helps me to the sofa and delicately examines my injury.
"It's swollen again," he states, matter-of-factly. "Have you been running up and down on this?"
I consider dodging the question. I am so tired of dodging.
"I thought you ran away." My confession, delivered with guilt-ridden gravitas, makes him laugh. "I'm serious, and frankly would not blame you, after the way I behaved last night."
"Human?" he suggests, pulling the bandage out of the package.
"Not sure that qualifies." I sigh. "I thought I had unsettled you. Did I unsettle you?"
"By showing me your pussy? No." He applies the bandage, delicately but firmly. "To be honest, I am kinda glad, just seeing that you are having at least some trouble putting this behind you. I know I am."
"My poor darling." I shake my head. "I have put you through so much."
He shakes his. "Will you ever let me take my share of responsibility?"
"No." Again, I make him chuckle. "I am the perpetrator and you are the victim."
"I guess I need to work longer and harder to be considered your accomplice."
Despite my biting conscience, his words soothe me. As always, he is my rock.
"I am so proud of how you are handling this," I say as he purposely unrolls the bandage around my aching ankle. "You are being very mature, and I swear I appreciate that very much."
"I don't feel very mature at all." He shakes his pretty head. "Just trying to give you space, that's all."
"You could have just taken me last night," I remind him. "And you did the right thing by not indulging my despicable behavior."
"It wasn't easy." He smiles with sadness.
"Wasn't it, really?" I simply cannot believe him, though he is being very convincing. "I must have looked awful, like out of a nightmare."
"Out of a dream." He pauses his work and looks right through me. I will never, ever, understand what he sees.
"Still, I made you run away." I sob.
"I ran away because..." He stares into nothing. "I got scared. Not of you, 'fore you ask. I got scared that we would do it, and then the morning after, you would regret it."
"I would never have--"
"I have been through my share of breakups, Mom. But this... this felt different. I was not ready for it. I cannot go through it again. For real, I can't."
Oh, Erik. This is so much better and worse than I thought. Must you make it so fucking difficult to let you go?
"So you finally agree that we cannot continue?"
"No," he repeats with the same overconfident tone. "But I don't need to. My course of action is blind support. What you say goes."
I always get the feeling he is playing some seduction four d chess with me. If so, he is playing well.
"I just hope--" Words get stuck in my throat. "I just hope you are not hurting over this."
"I am hurting like hell." He goes on chuckling. "But I swear I won't make that your problem."
He finishes his little triage. The bandage holds well, and Erik decides to sign his little medical masterpiece with a little kiss. I don't know why, but that has to be the most erotic thing I have ever witnessed. I haven't felt this horny since... I never felt this horny.
"Come here." I open my arms to him, and this time he does not resist. I lay his head onto my breasts and soothe him with gentle caresses. "You are hurting because of Mommy?"
"It was worth it." He leans into my softness, inhaling deeply.
"It was." I smell his hair in turn. "Mommy is hurting too. She is trying to be strong, but it's so, so, so hard."
"It sure is." He smirks at his own pun, the rascal.
"I cannot put this behind me and keep you close. It's just too much for either of us."
"What are you saying?" He pulls back, raising his voice in anger and panic. "You are not going to--?"
I smother that horrible question with my tits.
"No, I won't. I am your mom, Erik. I want you to be happy, to live the best possible life. But I simply cannot and will not give up being part of it."
He does not fight back. If anything, he fights to feel me better -- to feel me more. He gains enough courage to squeeze my breasts. Oh, how I missed the eager grasp of his hands.
"So what do we do?" he asks, imploringly.
I answer by bearing my tits, which he cannot resist sucking on, hurting my nipples in the best possible ways.
"We cannot suppress this, Erik. At least I can't."
He fights against my bra, which he still has not mastered. "I can't open it!"
I undo my bra in a single motion, allowing him to truly go wild on my tits. If my girls are growing somewhat saggy, Erik sure does not notice or mind.
"All we can do is contain it. And we contain it by setting rules, establishing boundaries. Understand?"
"No!" He laughs as he desperately tries to escape his pants.
"Well, maybe we'll discuss the details after we fucked a few times."
I help him get out of his clothes and inside my pussy.
The insertion could not be slicker or smoother. My son's cock slides all the way inside his mother and gives a deep, sloppy kiss to her cervix. I do not exactly cum, but the sensation is close. Close enough to force a cry of joy and pleasure out of me.
It is eerie. As intense as the pleasure feels, one sensation rises above it. Relief. I feel as if I had been holding my breath for weeks, and only now am I allowed to gasp for air. I hold his face in my hands and see that same rapture in his eyes. He and I have come to a point where restraint is worse than any shock.
"Fuck, Mom," he chuckles. "I almost jizzed inside of you right here and now."
"Language." I am more bothered by his phrasing than by the risk of pregnancy. I truly am mad. "Now push."
He does not have me tell him twice. He thrusts in deeply and purposefully, knowing all too well what will make me moan, what will make me cry, and what will make me scream at the top of my lungs. He takes his time, enjoying my warmth and my slickness, and making me feel the full force of his hips. My ankle aches, but I don't give a damn.
"You are so fucking hot in there," he says. "Promise this isn't the last time."
"This isn't the last time, hon," I reassure him. "It's not even the last time for today."
"Jesus, I you can't fucking imagine how much I missed this." He is so wrong about that.
He keeps pushing inside of me with stronger and deeper thrusts. I generally prefer when he fucks me silly from behind, but it is such a joy to watch him. I let him keep going at his pace as he delights my eyes and my pussy at the same time.
"This feels so much better without a condom," he pants with a childish smile.
"I wholeheartedly agree." I giggle. "I think we should do away with those, for good. What do you say?"
"Yeah! Fuck them rubbers." I can almost feel the precum splurting out of his glans. "Does that mean I can cum inside of you?"
"You can cum everywhere and anytime but there, young man."
"Not what you said last night," he says, smirking like some horny, motherfucking little troll.
"I was ruinously intoxicated!" As if that justifies anything.
"Yeah, but the thought was there." He chuckles as he spreads my legs further. "The booze just made it surface."
"It was a whole lot of booze." His cock makes one stronger pass over my G-spot, and I bite into my lower lip. "My judgement was completely and utterly impaired."
"Yeah, just like mine... after a Coke."
I roll my eyes. I do love a man who can make me laugh and moan. I just wish he did only one at a time. Although maybe he is not joking. Maybe he is just feeling the ground. See how I react.
"Honey, this crazy idea of getting me pregnant is just a fantasy, right? You don't really want me to have your babies?" Did I just use plurals?
"You know, you should really ask me this kind of question after I cum, not before."
He is joking, of course. He is just fantasising but is in no way serious about it. Just like me. Exactly like me. Yes.
"Mom, please tell me that you are close." He almost laughs.
"I am not far but not close either." I can't help but feel flattered. As of late, I have had a hard time making him lose control like this. "You go on ahead, I will catch up."
"Mom, I..." Oh, look at those puppy eyes. "I really wanna cum inside you."
"I am not running back to the pharmacy for another one of those horrible pills," I taunt him. "Birth control and I never got along well."
"Maybe it's a safe day?"
It might be, it might not, and there is no way I will roll those dice while sober.
"How about you cum on my tits? Or my face? You always loved facials." My suggestions, tempting as they may be, all feel like rejection. Maybe I should kick this up a notch for him. "How about... you cum in my ass?"
He freezes in place. Shocked, or tempted, or both, I couldn't tell.
"You mean anal?"
"Don't tell me you never tried it," I tease him.
"I never really thought about it," he admits. "I mean, I saw it in video... it looked kinda dirty, and painful for--"
"Excuse you?" I push him out of me with a reproachful glare. "For your information, young man, your mother keeps every bit of her quite clean. Actually, not just clean, pristine!"
To prove my point, I pull my legs further up and show him how shiny my little star is. He is not exactly tempted, but he is at least... curious?
"Should I go up and get the lube?"
That is so considerate of him. Maddening!
"Honey, I am so fucking wet right now, any further lubrication would be redundant."
"W-won't I hurt you?"
I never worked this hard to have a man fuck my ass. It is tenderly frustrating.
"You just need to use some care, at first." I push the tip of his cock down, towards my backdoor. "Don't worry. Mommy will guide you through it. If it hurts, I'll tell you to stop."
"Um... what if it hurts me?"
"Oh, honey...." It is my turn to grin, for once. "It won't."
Almost forcing my son to have anal intercourse with me makes me feel like a succubus, like some preternatural temptress, and I am enjoying the role a little more than I should.
Erik becomes entirely passive as I accompany the purple head of his cock against the pink ring of my anus. Fortunately for us both, it is already quite lubricated by the ridiculous amount of vaginal fluids flowing down from up above. Hand in hand with me, Erik begins to push.
He meets more resistance than he is used to and hesitates. Did he really expect to be able to enter mommy's ass the same way he enters mommy's pussy? He can be so silly sometimes.
"Try pushing a little harder, hon," I say. "Don't be afraid.
He tries again, only his cock slips back up into my pussy. Instinctively, he gives me a few toe-curling shoves, which make it very difficult for me to push him back again.
"Here, I'll help." I reach for his cock, but he recoils. "Honey, what's wrong?"
"Um... would you mind... spreading it a little bit more for me?"
God, he got me worried for a moment. I lie fully on my back and pull my thiccness aside for him. Still, he hesitates, or better yet, lingers.
"I gotta admit." He smiles. "It's really beautiful, seen like that."
"Honey, if you are not balls deep inside my ass in the next ten seconds, you are grounded until Christmas."
He yields to my threat.
My son's first anal penetration, and it is all mine. I can't help but feel proud of the experience I am about to give him. Look at him, all careful and delicate. He has no idea I am about to milk his cock with what are probably some of my most powerful muscles.
He pushes further in, and the deeper he goes, the bolder and more confident he becomes.
"Are you sure this doesn't hurt?" he insistently asks me.
"Q-quite sure." Though it sure is intense. Not until now have I ever truly grasped how fucking big Erik is. Not the biggest I had in my mouth or pussy, but for my ass, this is a record. "How does it feel?"
"It's so weird," he says, though with a smile. "It's like... you had a tiny mouth, sucking me hard, then after it, everything is extra warm and soft.
"Why don't you try to go back and forth a little?" I suggest with a wink. "No worries. Mommy can take it."
At long last, he starts penetrating me, tentatively at first, more in earnest after. Despite my excitement, there is some pain, but it is the best kind of pain, the kind that makes me feel dominated, submitted, used for his pleasure. Oh, honey, mommy loves you so much!
"Does it feel good, my l-hon?" Fuck, my tongue slipped. I hope he didn't notice.
"It is so different from the pussy." Thank God, he is very much distracted. "What about you? Does it feel good? Be real."
"Honey, I am loving everything you are doing to me." I take his hand. "Will you stop holding back now?"
"Y-you want me to do it harder?"
"As hard as you can."
He picks up the pace, but still hesitates to take my request seriously. Does he think I'm made of china? Jesus, this is so frustrating.
"Harder," I order.
"Are you s--"
"Harder!"
At last, he gives it to me the way I want it. There is pain, of course, but it is far easier to bear that than the teasing. Erik is finally fucking my ass as it ought to be fucked, hard and deep, with his crotch smashing into my buttcheeks. The slapping of his muscles against my ass is almost enough to make me cum on its own. Almost. I might need to finger my pussy a little. But later. Right now, I want to focus solely on my beautiful son impaling my ass on his beautiful cock.
"It's almost all the way in!" he announces.
"A-almost?" I ask, concerned I actually might have bitten off more than I can chew.
"Hell yeah, I didn't you could--"
I grab him by the wrists, and, before he says literally anything else, I pull with all my strength, impaling myself on the entire length of my son's majestic cock. We both cry out in shock and ecstasy.
"Ho--hohoholy fuck!" His face melts into the silliest smile of absolute pleasure. I would giggle, were I not so busy catching my breath.
"You are in balls deep now," I say, pressing myself further onto him, stroking his cock with my intestines. "How does it feel?"
"I'm fucking heaven!" He mumbles. "I had no idea my cock could feel this good."
"Oh, honey. That's nothing." I clench my anus around him.
"Jesus-fucking-Christ!"
I should scold him for all this swearing, but it is just so rewarding. And the best is yet to cum.
I pull back, proceed to relax my muscles entirely, and push myself onto him until he bottoms inside. Then, I proceed to squeeze using all the strength of my lower body, and pull back again. Each time I do this, he lets out another series of ugly swears and beautiful moans.
"In Italy, they call this bacio di Singapore, the Singaporean kiss."
"It feels fucking fantastic, Mom. Fucking fantastic! Jesus, I am losing my mind."
"Are you gonna cum, dear?"
"I have been holding it for the whole last minute." His laughter is almost maniacal. "I don't ever want this to end.
"That won't do, dear," I scold him. "Mommy wants all of your warm, delicious cum all the way up her ass and if you won't give it to her..." I clench around him as hard as I can, making him regret his reluctance. "She will take it!"
He resists -- valiantly, and for a whole thirty seconds. Then, his swearing turns into a deep bestial scream, and my insides are flooded with love.
I can feel each and every splurt of cum shooting out of his cock, and what splurts they are. We push against each other again and again, and each time we do this, I am rewarded with another rope of cum. By the time he is done with his minute-long orgasm, I am wallowing in a sense of satisfying fullness.
"How was your first anal, dear?" I ask, as his cock begins to soften.
"It... was fucking unreal." He laughs in incredulity. "I had like no idea. I mean, Jesus! This should qualify as a heavy drug, and I think I'm hooked for good."
"No need to panic, dear. Mommy will always have your fix soft and ready for you." I cannot resist massaging my clit. God, it's so swollen, I fear it might burst.
"What about you?" he asks, taken by sudden post-nut guilt. "You didn't cum."
"I am quite satisfied and happy, I assure you."
"Bullshit." Erik descends upon me. He tosses my thighs around his neck, like they were two thick and fleshy scarves. "How many times did you make yourself cum without me? Tell me the truth."
"You mean since we stopped...?" I grab him by the hair, trying to keep him from going too rough on my clit. "Never."
From between my legs, he looks at me with mocking incredulity.
"I swear!" I say. "It's not that I didn't try. It's just... You fucking spoiled me, Erik."
I can feel his lips pulling into a smile.
"And what about you? I bet you had no trouble making yourself cum." As a matter of fact, I know that for sure.
"I guess," he scoffs on my labia. "Still not the fucking same. Not even close."
"I guess we still need each other."
He pulls back up. "What do you mean still?"
"I mean..." I push him back down. "I still want you to live your life, to find a girl your age, be happy, maybe give me a few grandchildren. Stop smirking like that."
"Okay." He goes on smirking. "And what about you? Will you look for another guy your age to replace me?"
"I don't know, your generation seems very fond of MILFs. Is any of your friends--?"
"Mom!"
"Joking! I'm joking, dear. Don't make that face now. Put back where it belongs instead."
I hold his head in place and accept no further interruptions. Erik's urge to make me cum in turn, his fear of inadequacy, is misguided, but also touching, and fuck me if I am not going to exploit it. He has by now learned exactly how to use his lips and tongue to please his mom, and I let him. I ride the sensation all the way up to mount climax and, by God, is it beautiful up there. At last, my fast is broken, and my brain rewards me with a delicious cocktail of dopamine and oxytocin, extra-strong. When I finally release Erik's drenched face from between my thighs, I am drunk with forbidden pleasure.
We spend the rest of the day making up for the time we lost. Things begin relatively tame, we shower together, and I make his cock nice and clean again. He presses me against the cold glass, which chills my skin and freezes my nipples, but it's all worth it when he shoves his newly erect cock inside my pussy. I let him have his fun while I have mine. It is a good thing he is so fond of facials, because if he wanted to pie me, I would have a hard time saying no.
"Turn off the faucet, dear," I ask him while I jerk his cock to orgasm. "I want to enjoy the sensation of your cum on my face."
He turns off the shower and showers me with love. Despite this being his second orgasm in relatively quick succession, he gives me quite the facial. He glazes most of my face and my tits. He must have been quite pent up, my poor boy. So was I, I suppose, so much so that I barely realize I am licking it off my lips and my breasts.
"Jesus," he gasps. "You are so beautiful when you do that."
"Do what?"
"You know... lick it up."
Oh, you like it when I do it?"
He chuckles with embarrassed desperation. "It drives me nuts."
"Does it not bother you to know that your mom is such a cumslut?"
"No," he says, serene. "As long as it's my cum, that is."
"So selfish," I tease him, and his balls. "I hope you have more in here. Mommy is still hungry."
"Oh, believe me, there's plenty." He brings my head onto his half-erect cock. "And I'll give you every drop.
My mouth opens on pure muscle memory. His whole length slides inside of me, and I kiss the base of his cock with my lips. He's joking, right? He just came. He cannot possibly want another blowjob straight away. My goodness, I believe he might. Holding my hair tight, he pulls my head back and forth. Initially, his cock is soft, and I have no trouble at all keeping all of it in my mouth. But soon it begins to twitch, to grow, to harden. In less than two minutes and my throat is struggling to welcome this much lovemeat within its limited capacity. Breathing is hard, but letting go is harder. He is using my mouth like a flashlight, and that is... so flattering. Erik, does Mommy's throat feel really that good? Is it me that makes you act like such an animal? I made you so horny that you forgot who I am, who we both are. Or perhaps, it is exactly that which triggers both of us. Erik, my love, you can fuck mommy's throat as long and as often as you like.
He stops. Why in the flying fuck would he stop? No, don't pull it out!
"Phew. Sorry, Mom." He is the opposite. "I got carried away and--"
I grab him by the buttocks, with both hands, and force him all the way back inside my throat. He is not the only one who got carried away. Despite the extreme effort, I keep eye contact, and my throat relaxed. He is mesmerized, my beautiful boy. I bet Mindy never did this for you, did she? Well, Erik, that's not the last surprise got in store for you tonight.
"Mom, what are you--JEEZUS!"
I slide not one but two fingers inside his virgin butthole. The intrusion is entirely unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. I find his P-spot with ease, I know how to look for it, and press it. Delicately at first, more confidently as his cock begins to twitch.
"F-fuck! How are you--fuck!"
He is trying to hold his orgasm, poor thing. Sorry, Erik. Mommy is hungry, and you won't deny her her due. I clench my throat around him, hit his prostate like it was the ignition button, and he cums like a space rocket.
He lets out something between a moan, a whimper, and a lion's roar. All the while, he shoots half a gallon of cum directly into my stomach. I take it all without flinching and don't let him pull out a single inch until the last drop is well and squeezed out. Only then did I let go of his butt, and his cock slides out of me, still half erect and leaving behind a trail of saliva.
"Oh Jesus! Oh fuck... Oh Jesus," Erik pants, still in shock and pleasantly so.
"Did you like what Mommy did for you, dear?" I know I didn't. I know he loved every second of it. Alas, I swallowed every last bit of the evidence.
"I..." He can't help but laugh. "...did not expect that."
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" I ask, with blatantly false regret.
"Well, almost! I came so fucking hard, it felt like a bullet." I smile at his compliment. "Also... Jeez, I can't believe I'm saying this -- I did not hate what you did... back there."
"There is a lot more I can do for you if you feel like exploring." I caress his butthole with the tip of my fingers.
"Um... thanks but no thanks!" He escapes me, the prude. "I rather keep things vanilla, for now."
We spend the rest of the day, of the day, and of the day after, relapsing. Our sex rush turns into a full-on fuck-aton. Over the course of what must be no less than forty hours, I make him cum with my tits, I make him cum with my thighs, I make him cum with my hands while sitting on his face and with my feet while masturbating for him. Erik, always gentle and also somewhat competitive, wholeheartedly returns all my favours. He licks my clit, fingers my pussy, he rides me the way I like it and lets me ride him when he is too tired. Of course, he also asks me to milk his cock with my asshole again, and I readily provide.
I feel proud that it was I who made him discover the joys of anal sex. Judging by the groans in my ears and the abundant cumshoots leaking out of my anus, this is going to become a staple of our sexual encounters. Next time I am out, I will buy some new toys for us to play with. I will get a nice plug, some anal beads, a new dildo for me.... maybe something for him too? He said he wants to keep things vanilla for now, but I know the day he will ask me to peg him is not far. I mean, his father fucking loved it.
At some point, we are both exhausted and hungry. There is no way either of us can cook, so it's home delivery for tonight. We eat Chinese off our knees, watching something stupid on TV. We barely talk. We don't really need to. As soon as we took some calories in and got our bodies sufficiently hydrated, we go back to bed and try to make the night last forever.
It almost does.
I believe I lost consciousness at some point. Erik was fucking my ass while spooning, I think. Somehow, at some point, he hit something important either inside or near my asshole. I don't know if it was the slapping of his balls against my pussy or his dick somehow pressing on my g-spot from the backdoor, but I came. I had an actual anal orgasm, and I did not think it was possible. I couldn't tell whether it was orgasm number nine, or twelve, or whatever. All I know is that I came hard. So hard, in fact, I passed out moments after.
I wake up something like ten or eleven hours later, utterly impaired by the sheer quantity of lactic acid. I can barely breathe, and even that aches. My throat is dry, my pussy is sore, my ass is on fire. Still, I never felt so serene. While my body is devastated, my heart and mind are light and aloof. I stare at the ceiling, thinking of nothing, until Erik comes to.
"Mmm... what time is it?" he asks.
"To answer that, I would need to reach for my phone, which I can't, because you made me into the world's happiest quadruplegic."
"Don't say that." He chuckles. "Even as a joke. I would never--Ouch!"
"Honey, is everything okay?"
"My dick feels weird."
"Weird how?"
"Like... sore and aching. It kinda hurts."
"Well, serves you right for fucking your poor mom's brains out. She was too old for this ten years ago."
"You were not exactly complaining last night."
I suppose not. I was too busy screaming. Boy, does he know how to make me scream. I suppose there is nothing left for us to do but catch our breath, and hopefully, our limbs will eventually start working again.
"Honey, do you--?"
"If you ask me if I regret what happened one more time, I will scream at the top of my lungs."
He threatens me, the little motherfucker. No, we are way past that. I know he does not regret it. Neither do I.
"I was going to ask you if you wanted some ice."
"Oh, fuck yeah, I do."
My motherly heart pushes what is left of my body to the limit, and I successfully rise from the bed. I collect a bag of ice from the fridge and return to soothe the aching and burning of the most beautiful and capable cock in this world.
"Oh, that feels so fucking good."
"Language," I keep telling him, futile as that may be.
I lay back next to him and we allow ourselves some well-earned cuddling. I must reek, yet he smells me like I had the fragrance of a whole field of flowers.
"That was some relapse," I whisper.
"Yep. One for the ages."
"We can't let it happen anymore."
He sighs out all his frustration and desperation.
"Mom, not this again! I--"
"No, I mean we can't keep fucking like rabbits. We have to fuck like people." I try to speak matter-of-factly, which is not easy, considering the subject. "We tried to stop fucking, and it didn't work. That much is clear. So I guess we have to keep fucking until whatever demon possessed both of us will return to hell."
"Hope it never does."
"I'm serious, young man. We can't go on like this. We need a normal sex life. A normal, mother-son, incestuous sex life. We need to fuck like an actual couple, not some Sting and Trudie."
"Who?"
"Never mind. The point is, we need to contain this, okay. And the only way we can contain this sex."
"Including anal sex." His smirk widens.
"Especially anal sex." I deliver each word with all the gravitas of a Frank Drebin. "I want you to cum inside me, and I would rather avoid condoms after what happened."
"Hope you don't mind me asking, but..." He picks his words with caution. "Why don't you just get on the pill? I mean, we would've saved a small fortune if--"
"Oh, that's a long story." I scoff. "Suffice to say, I had some very bad experiences with birth control."
I prefer not going into details of how the pill made me fat, moody, and dry as the fucking Mojave. Even more so, I don't want to tell my son that his asshole of a father categorically refused to wear condoms or have a vasectomy despite being very clear that he did not want any more kids.
"Well, everything you say, boss." He salutes me.
"I'm serious, Erik." I grab his chin, half-caressing, half-forcing him to meet my gaze. "I still want you to find a girl your age, get married, give me grandchildren, all that... I'll just keep fucking you while we wait for her."
"And after that?"
"Jesus, Erik. I don't know! I'll probably keep fucking you as long as you want me to."
"Promise?" That fucking smirk again.
"No, I don't promise you anything, except that I will love you, forever, in every possible way."
There, I said it. No taking it back. Oh God, no. Is he going to cry? I think I am.
"I love you too," he says. "In every possible, perverted, demented, fucking way possible."
"Midterms!" I shout.
"What?" He looks at me as if I just lost my mind.
"I'm trying to think of the midterms. They are just around the corner, and we gotta vote."
"Mom, are you well?"
"Erik, I'm trying not to cry, and I am also trying not to hop on you again, because if I do, we will both die, and I don't want to die. I want to live, for God's sake. I want to live with you."
He pulls me into his embrace and dries my tears with sweet kisses. We hold each other still, waiting for our biology to once more freely express the feelings we can no longer deny.
Months go by, and we return to our normal lives, plus overabundant incestuous sex, of course. We go see grandma for Christmas, all the way up in Colorado, and we are forced to sleep in separate beds for almost a week. On the way back down from the Rockies, we have to make at least half a dozen stops for some roadside, extremely uncomfortable car sex.
Our presents, the ones we exchange away from prying eyes, are probably more suited for Saint Valentine than Christmas, but neither of us complains. Erik burns half his savings on a set of custom-made lingerie.
Seafoam green.
I, a little more selfishly, buy things for myself, but he does not complain. These include a nice, jewelled plug, to keep my anus well stretched out and comfortable for my beloved son's cock; anal beads, extra large and extra numerous, for his joy; a powerful magic wand, so that he can make me cum reliably while fucking my ass; and finally some premium lube, a whole half gallon. I do want it to last at least until February.
For New Year's Eve, we pop the champagne and the lube and celebrate with our own fireworks. We start fucking and midnight, and stop almost on January the second. Our resolutions, besides keeping each other happy and satisfied, include finding new dates for both of us. Erik refuses to consider going out with anyone else unless I also get back in business.
"You want grandchildren, right?" He asked me once. "Well, I also always wanted a little brother or sister."
"Don't be absurd," I scolded him. "Getting pregnant at my age? No way. No, no. And even if I wanted to, it's very unlikely to happen."
"Really? Why?"
"I had a hard time getting pregnant with you. And I was in my twenties. I highly doubt I got more fertile with the years."
"Then why won't you let me pie you?"
Jesus, not this again. "Because that's a chance I am not willing to take!"
"Why not?" And he made his smirk, of course. "Sounds like a win-win. We all get what we want, all at once."
I shut him up by climbing onto his face.
Halfway through the year, we have a breakthrough. Erik's got a date -- with Mindy, no less. Apparently, they decided to give themselves another chance. I am eerily okay with it. There is jealousy, of course, and even some concern that I might lose my stud to the younger generation. Alas, nothing lasts forever. Still, I make sure to get at least one more anal creampie before every date. Each could be the very last one.
One night, Erik comes back excessively late. Despite it being almost down, I just can't sleep. My heart aches with irrational concerns, while my mind is filled with rational ones. When he finally returns, he lays the car keys at the entrance, greets me with a sigh, and sits next to me, unsure of what he should say and how.
This is it.
"So, how did it go?" I ask, just like I would ask a doctor if the cancer has methastasized.
"We had a heart-to-heart," he says, plainly and unhappy with the results. "She wants to take things to the next level."
"That's good." I don't know if I should dance or tear my hair off. "Are you feeling ready for that?"
"I--" He turns to me and only now notices that I am wearing his lingerie underneath my robe. "Um... God, I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize, honey." I caress him.
"You look so beautiful in that color. Oh God." He let his face fall into his hands. "I don't know what to think."
"Maybe you should sleep on it."
"And what about you?" He picks up my breasts and brushes my nipples, which is enough to make them instantly rock hard. "I kept you waiting for... Jesus, I am so sorry. I should have come home sooner."
"D-don't be silly, honey. I just wanted to be ready in case... Never mind that. We can talk about this tomorrow. " I chortle and lean in to whisper. "I need to get this thing out, ASAP."
"You are wearing the plug?"
"Not exactly..."
I let him pull my panties aside, and he sees the ringed string of the anal beads hanging from my poor, overstimulated little butthole.
"Wow! All of them?"
"Yep," I confess, with shame and pride. "Though I think I overdid it. No way I can take your monster of a cock in my ass now."
"How about your pussy?" he suggests. "I bet it will feel amazing."
"Yeah, I bet it would," I ruffle his hair. "Answer's no. If you put in, there is no way I will let you pull out."
"We could use this." He conjures a condom. "It's the last one."
"Is it?" I complain, my jealousy surfacing. "I see Mindy had her fun."
"So you should have yours, right?"
"Absolutely, fucking right."
I unwrap the condom, take it in my mouth, and unroll it on my son's beautiful cock with perfect muscle memory. He enters me without even the hint of friction.
"Holy shit!" He moans. "You sure were wet."
"I used the wand while waiting for you.... a couple of times." I bite my lower lip. "I hope you don't mind."
"Fuck no, I don't." He pumps me full of his manhood. "I fucking love it when you are all ready and eager for my cock."
"Do the beads feel good?"
"They feel..." He gasps. "Fucking amazing."
I'm so glad. I was afraid there would have been little room for him. Having so much of my insides pressed up by the anal toy makes me feel full like a piñata at a quinzeñera. Still, it's not bad. Maybe it will be in the morning, but right now everything is perfect. Well, almost everything.
"Erik, if you need to move out--"
"Are we seriously discussing this at this mo--?"
"If you need to move out!" I force him to stop. "I understand. And I believe you should. I will do all I can to make it happen without pain for you."
"I don't want to leave you, Mom."
"You are not leaving me, you are simply moving on to new, better things. Mindy is a good girl. You and she will make each other very happy, and that is everything I ever--"
"We broke up."
My heart stops.
"You what?"
"I told you we had a heart-to-heart. She wanted to move on to the next step, and I told her I was not ready. She asked me when I would be ready, and I did not know what to answer." He shakes his head. "I tried to make it work, Mom. I really, really, really tried. But I can't settle for her. I can only settle for you... Or another you. If there is any."
I was right. This is it. I... we did this. Was it our choice? Or fate's? I do not know. To be honest, I do not care. Without speaking a word, I push my son out of my pussy, pull myself up to him, and cover him with comforting kisses. Once I feel that he has calmed down, I go down to his cock, and peel that awful, rubbery thing off of it.
"Mom, what are you--?"
I shush him with my index finger, and accompany his precious manhood back inside my eagerly awaiting pussy. His naked cock sliding inside of me very nearly makes me cum there and then.
"Fuck me, Erik," I whisper.
And fuck me, he does.
This is one for the ages. He rocks me hard enough to register on the Richter scale. His manhood hits my cervix with desperate abandon, and every time the head of his cock makes its way from the entrance to the bottom, he passes over the anal beads, which causes both of us a delightfully excessive pressure. The coup the grace is delivered by his balls, which slap against my overstretched little butthole and set my whole nervous system ablaze. I cum like a fucking train, and it is a two-way trip.
"I'm gonna cum, Mom!" Erik cries. "I'm gonna cum inside you."
"Cum inside, Son!" I implore him. "Cum inside your mama. She wanted you so long. Don' -- Don't keep her waiting anymore."
And he fucking explodes.
I never knew a man could cum so loud, for so long, and so fucking much. My womb is not getting filled, it's getting flooded. The warmth, the pressure, the sheer quantity. It is overwhelming, and it just never ends. It melts what little is left of my brains and sends me into a third, shocking, world-ending orgasm. For nearly a whole minute, it feels like it will never stop, and when it does, the sensation lingers long and vivid.
It is all perfect. I know I should be horrified by what just happened, but I am not. Everything is as it should be.