Bruno came into our lives on a warm, summer night. A year later came the twins, Margaret and Matilda. I loved my children more than anything in this world.
Fast forward nineteen years. I'm a young woman, barely 37. My son has grown into a wonderful specimen: tall, olive skin, with soft black hair that curls around his temple, deep, dark eyes --with how serious he looks, I might be the only one how knows there's not much happening between those thick brows: he's a simple being, like all of us.
I'd do anything to make him happy.
"Bruno," I called out to him from inside the house. My dad, now husband, has been bedridden for months. Poor man doesn't have much time left --we all know that. Bruno has taken over the farm, and now I need him to get one of the chickens for lunch, "Bruno, love, can you come?"
He doesn't reply, which is odd. Bruno is usually obedient and always answers when I call.
"Bruno?"
I dry my hands on my apron and walk outside. The kitchen door leads right out to the yard where we keep our chicken coop. It's still early in the day. Bruno doesn't usually wander off.
"Now, where did that boy go?"
I survey the farm, he's not in sight. I decided to check the barn. He's been spending an awful lot of time there, doing his boy stuff. I'm not stupid: he's young, he lives isolated with his mom and two sisters who are as free as the wind and don't mind showing off their nudity, but he's also a good boy, so he respectfully retrieves to the barn to take care of his manly needs when he thinks no one is looking.
Well, I've looked a couple of times and let me tell you, I couldn't be more proud: his thick, juicy cock barely fits into his hands, and when he explodes, he shoots a load that could leave a woman full for days if she were to swallow it.
I'd been thinking about doing it.
I want to taste him.
The truth is: I miss it. I miss the sex. Dad used me for years for his own pleasure and I got accustomed to the regularity and the intensity of it, but when he got ill sex was the first thing that had to go. And after years of living with a cock down my throat and my pussy filled to the brim day in and day out, well, as much as it hurt to see him wasting away in bed, it hurt more the fact that he couldn't fuck me anymore. Does that make me a bad wife? For years, that was what our relationship was all about: primal intense sex with no boundaries. Now, I'm just a woman in full bloom tending to a dry old man that doesn't even seem to remember my name, and keeps calling me by my mother's name. What a blow that was, after all the years I gave him I came to find out he never loved me more than he loved her.
I tiptoe into the barn, sure enough, Bruno is there with his pants down, beating his giant cock mercilessly. He has his back turned against me, pants down to his ankles so all I can see are his beautiful buttocks, round and supple, and his muscles as they contract and expand with every stroke. He's panting desperately, like he's on the verge and can't take much more. Damn it, if I had a better view, I could see him coming hard, groaning like a beast, making a mess with buckets of cum dripping down his legs and splashing onto the floor.
I want to see it.I need to see it.
"Bruno?"
I whisper his name. He's startled. He turns to look at me over his shoulder, frozen in mid act, eyes wide, face red, lips opened wide with all the effort on panting.
"Crap..." he looks back at his member, still hanging out, as if he's unsure what to do, "sorry, I...I was just..."
We've had this conversation before. He knows about the birds and the bees and I was the one who suggested he used the bard whenever he was in need of privacy. I'm confident he's not mad about getting caught, just surprised about the sudden interruption.
"Do you need more time, my dear?" I'm salivating, I'm getting wet, but I have to behave. I take a few steps closer, just enough to see sweat stains on his back. It's dark and stuffy here. He's probably feeling too hot.
"Yeah...maybe... I don't know." He sighs, and his shoulder's limp a little. I take one more cautious step closer. I can almost feel the heat of his body. Can he feel mine?
"Is there a problem?" I ask as innocently as I can.
He shakes his head, then exhales deeply, almost as if defeated.
"It won't come out," he admits. I'm taken aback by his honesty, but I also sense his distress.
"What won't?" I decide to play dumb, just in case I'm taking things the wrong way.
"The white stuff," he makes a gesture with his hand, as if he's looking for the right word, "the cum. It won't come out. My balls hurt, but I just can't...I can't..."
"Oh, sweetie, " I cross the distance completely and reach to place a hand on his shoulder. This gives me an opportunity to turn him to me a little bit, enough to get a clear look at what we're dealing with.
We are dealing with a massive, pulsating, veiny cock that's begging to get sucked dry, that's what.
I have to restrain myself not to grab it at once. I want to shove that in my pussy in, take every inch of it until it stretches me fully --this is bigger than Dad.
He has to be mine.
"Well, sweetie," I whisper in his ear, he flinches, but makes no indication to be uncomfortable. If anything, she seems disappointed, "maybe you are just tired? It doesn't have to come out every time, you know?"
"I know," he places his hand on mine, the one I have on his shoulders, and I swear fireworks go within me. My pussy is throbbing so hard it hurts, juices are dripping down my tights. My body wants a man, now, and here's one in his full glory, with his serious eyes and trusting hands, and I'm trying to be good and to behave but then he says:
"Maybe you can give me a hand?"
I don't know if he's joking --there's a cheeky smile in his full lips, but I can't tell. I swallow hard, trying to restrain, but what the hell. Restrain is gone.
"Would you like mommy to help you with that?" I use my sultriest voice, bate my eyelids, and act like a silly teenager in front of my son, soon to be my man, because goddamn I'm not walking out of this barn with this pool of desire between my legs and this womb begin to receive his seed.
He hesitates.
His eyes water.
"I can't take it anymore!" He slaps my hand away and covers his eyes with his fist. His ears have turned red. Is he ashamed, or just shy?
"Baby," I lean by the wall, positioning myself in front of him. His cock, still erect, twitches, he's a bit taller than me, so the tip of his member brushes where my belly button is, a few drops of pre-cum glistening in the dark. He smells like damp, like musk, like nature itself, vulnerable before me and I'm here, a part of nature as well, pray to my primal needs, "won't you tell mommy what's wrong?"
He wipes his tears away and meets my gaze. There's a fury behind his eyes I've never seen before, so much strength I trembled. If I didn't know better, I'd think I'm in danger.
"What does he have that I don't?" he blurts out.
I blink twice, baffled. Who is he talking about? Our dad? Of course, he doesn't know that...so, he means the man I've told him was my husband? I mean, that's the one he's referring to, right? There aren't that many options.
"Why would you compare yourself to him?" This isn't the time to play dumb. I need to know what's troubling me if I'm to succeed in giving him relief.
"I'm not comparing," his voice is still a little high-pitched, he's having a hard time controlling his emotions, "I am the man of the house. I take care of everyone. So, it's not fair."
"What isn't?"
"That you don't see me as a man."
His confession crushes me. I could cry right now. He thinks I don't want him? He thinks I haven't considered it?
How can he be so dumb?
"Well, I am your mother," why am I even saying that? I guess there's traces of decency in me. Not for long though. Still, I add, "of course I think of you as a child."
"I'm not a child anymore!" he says, while pouting like one. Then he grabs me by the shoulders, his nails dig into my skin.I yelp, surprised although not scared. I know him, he would never hurt me, "I am a man, more of a man than he'll ever be. I'm strong, I can take care of you, and I...I loved you, for so long."
"It's natural for a son to -"
"No, not like that!" he shakes his head violently, "I love you. I want to marry you. I want to be your man, please...won't please just allow me to take care of you?"
"What about your sisters?" I release myself from his grip, too shocked by his confession, and needing some distance to rethink this whole thing.
"What about them?"
"Why don't you love one of them instead of me?" I hope he catches my meaning. In all honesty, with how those two don't seem to be able to keep their clothes on and love to wander off into the wilderness naked like some sort of erotic pixies, I'd been half expecting for him to knock off one of them, or both.
But he gives me a look like I've just lost my mind.
"They are my sisters!" his eyes are wide with a hint of shock and disgust, "I would never..."
"But you would with your mother?" I hate myself sometimes, I could be drench in sweat right now, belly full of cum, happy and satisfied and yet and here I am, debating with the man who wants to fuck me as much as I want to get fucked by him whether or not that's a good idea.
"I don't think of you that way, like a mom," he lowers his gaze, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones, cheekbones that I could be licking right now. "You are a woman. I am a man. I protect you. I provide for you. I love you like crazy. I just want to be with you. What do I have to do to prove to you that I am good enough? I just want you to love me back. Like a man. Like a husband, maybe even one day, as a father," he places a hand on my belly, and I feel like a volcano about to erupt "wouldn't you like to have my babies?"
That's it. No more logic and reason, no more stalling off. Just me and my primal desires, standing before a male of my own species who wants to procreate.
Without taking my eyes off of him, I get down to my knees. I allow the tip of his cock to rub my face, my nose, brush my lips. He flinches a bit, eyes filled with surprise, mouth open in a perfect O.
I imitate him.
I'm on all fours, palms and knees on the floor, ready to allow my son to deep throat me to his heart's content. I open my mouth wide, and allow his fully erect cock to brush my tongue, just barely entering my mouth.
"Oh..mom..."
I can't help but laugh. After all he said to me, he still calls me mom?
I sink his whole cock deep into my mouth, eyes locked on his. I can't breathe --I don't want to breathe, I just want him fully in me, pumping his manhood down my throat hard and fast. Ff he wants to cum in me, to piss in me, anything, I'd let him, I'd let him now and forever because I've got a new owner and is him. He now has every right over my body, my heart, my mind and soul, who am I to ask for anything at all? I have no more will of my own anymore, and so I suck him, all of him, feeling his cock bulge inside my mouth, hard as iron. I go deep until my nose hits his bush, then I take it out slowly at first, painfully slow. But he's like his father: eager, frantic, drowned in desired, so before I know it he is fucking my mouth like he owns it, because now he does. He dictates the pace, the intensity, he grabs my head and is thrusting in and out, hard and fast, and my god, I can't breathe but I don't want to if it means not tasting him anymore. I gag when he hits the back of my throat, and this startles him enough to make me stop for a bit.
"Now, my love," now I'm the one begging, "I'm so hungry, so hungry for you,..won't you feed me? Won't you feed mommy your sweet white stuff?"
"I don't want to hurt you," he's so honest and sweet and delicious. I need more of him now. So I plunge back in and now it's more accurate to say that I'm the one fucking his cock with my mouth, and I swear I wont' stop until he gives me all of it. I'd be mad at myself if I can't make my man come, so I don't stop, and I bob in and out at a frantic pace --the same one his dad enjoys-- and with my other hand I grab his balls.
He moans.
I want to come on my own just by hearing him. I want more of that. I squeeze his balls just a little, and he's out of breath, grabbing my head but letting me dictate the movement. I'm in control and I don't want to be. This is not how it's meant to be, isn't he the man? Didn't he want to own me?
I stop for a moment. We lock eyes. He's are hazy and dreamlike, like he's floating in ecstasy. He hasn't even fed me yet. This isn't fair.
"My love, my man, my owner," I say to him, and I hang on to his legs like a pagan hangs unto the statue of her deity, "please be good to me, can you do that? Can you really be my man?"
"I'd die for you," he says with a trembling voice, and then his eyes go dark, "I'd kill for you."
I shiver, because I don't like the implication, but we are way past the point where I had any say in any matter, except maybe for the following: "if you want me, then you take me. I am yours. Do as you want with me. I might have experience, but I am not experienced in you. You need to teach me, can you do that? Can you be good to me like that?"
He pauses, as if he needs a moment to process what I'm saying, then he nods.
"Take off your clothes."
It's an order.
As it should be, and I swear I had a mini orgasm just from hearing it.
I nod, and slowly, fully intending to make him impatient, I remove my apron first, then proceed to unzip my dress, revealing first only my shoulders, then my breast, my nipples hard as a rock and begin to be caressed by his strong hands, all the while I'm looking up at him. I don't want to miss any reaction, and by the time I'm about to roll the dress of my legs, he decides his waited enough, and getting down on the floor rips my dress of, rips hid clothes off and before I know it he is on top me, spreading my legs wide, my pussy wet and open to him and his trying to mount me.
This might be his first time --he can't quite find the right hole but I don't correct him: these are his holes now, he can use any of them, and I plan to make sure he does eventually, but for now, I give him a little hand. I grab him by the base of his throbbing cock, and guide him to my entrance.
He doesn't need my guidance anymore.
He plunges into me in one full go. It hurts a little, his cock is too fat, too long, too juicy and I love it. I don't want to be owned by any less than that ever again. He drills into me like a mad man: no rhythm, no pace, no care for my own pleasure, just him, lost in his own delirium, making his cock feel good in my pussy. And I let him. He is ripping moans out of me like crazy, but I couldn't care less to be heard or be found out. Let him do the talking if that's the case, I'm his woman now, his possession, why would I question if he wants to ravage me in secret or in public?
He pumps me mercilessly, his eyes shut tight. I'm dripping in his sweat, his juices, all of him, and he is so beautiful right now with his face red from all the effort, his curly hair bouncing on his head with every fast and deep thrust. He is a god to me now and I would forever worship his body and follow his will and be whatever he wants me to be: mother, wife, whore, hopefully all of them at once.
My pussy is sore and I love it, I'm about to come myself just from seeing him use me for his pleasure. When dad stopped using me it was like half the light of the world had gone dark, my days were an endless parade of unfulfilled desires and loneliness.
But as our son fucks me fast and hard and without mercy, it feels as if the rightness in the world has been restores again, and I can be complete for the first time, fully and desperately owned by a man half my age that loves me like I love him, and claimed me as his even when he knew I belonged to his father, Our father. But he doesn't know that.
I come with one hard wave, my back arching upward. The pleasure washes over me like a tsunami, for a moment I think I might faint: he's so deep, so full inside of me, so deliciously wild and beautiful. I'm so glad to be a woman, I'm so glad he is a man, I'm so glad in our loneliness, we still found and loved each other, quietly for a while, but now, as loud and free as the moan that he pulls out of me, that echoes all through the barn. They probably heard that back in town. Part of me wishes they had.
"Fuck, fuck...'
Hissbreath becomes more laborious, and he goes even faster, he's about to climax and as much as I want my womb filled with his seed, I want to taste him even more. That was my first craving after all. So when I feel him near the climax, I push him off, and then as fast as I can I move my body lower to catch his cock deep in my mouth and then I wait.
He comes with a roaring growl, primal and raw.
And unleashes a gallon of cum down my throat.
It's sticky, it takes like sweat. It's so much too fast, I almost drown --and I would've been glad.
I swallow all of it, down to the last drop, and even some of it spills down my chin, I wipe with my finger and munch on it, savoring every last drop.
I look up to meet his eyes, to get his approval. He smiles at me softly, like a saint, with so much warmth and love and adoration in his eyes, I feel complete. I know that all he said was true: he really has loved me all along.
As I have loved him.
He goes limp, but I'm not quite done yet. I lick his soft dick clean, and let him rest a bit in a post sex haze. All the while, he just smiles.
"Was that how you imagined it would be?" I ask, as I stay busy licking every drop of cum off of him.
He laughs, softly.
"Far better," he pats my head gently,and my heart melts. "So, what should I call you now? I can't exactly keep calling you mom."
"You can call me whatever you like," there's just us up here in this region, who cares what he calls me? what matters is what I am, and what I am is his.
"All right. Then I'll think of something good. What would you call me?" he pulls me by the elbow up to him, so I come resting on his shoulder. His chest is still bathed in sweat.
My owner" I say, being one hundred percent serious, but he by the way he laughs, I know he thinks I'm joking.
"You are not a pet," he says, "and owner is not how I view myself."
"Then, how?"
"How about...husband?"
I lean up a little, to meet his eyes. I hate to kill the mood, but there's things we need to discuss to make this work.
"I'm still married to your dad." Our dad, I should say, and technically never legally married.
Bruno shrugs.
"I don't care about him, he's about to kick the bucket anyways," he looks at me seriously, "you are not allowed back in his room again, got it? From now on you'll sleep with me."
Spoken like a true owner. I'm so proud.
I lean forward and give him a quick kiss. Our first kiss. He smiles at me gently and strokes my cheek..
"What about your sisters?" I need to know how they fit in all of this. Suddenly, I'm getting jealous of their youth, their beauty and their lack of any sense of modesty. What if he decides to take them as wives alongside me? The idea makes me sick: I don't want to have to compete with them.
But he just laughs.
"They've been rooting for us from the start."
I was not expecting that. I gasp, at a loss for words.
"They what?"
"They've always known how I felt about you," he says, a sheepish smile dancing on his lips, "and they always encourage me to tell you. I couldn't have asked for better sisters."
Well...
If it works, it works. I'm too happy with my new man and if they are okay with it, all the better.
Living in isolation has its perks.
III.
A few days have passed. My body hasn't caught a break. Just like in the good old days with dad, Bruno uses me as often as he desires, which is all the time, and I am happy to oblige. It's like living in a never ending honeymoon with a man who adores me, pleases me and worships me every hour of every day.
He comes so much inside of me that when we are not together I have to wear double panties to prevent cum from oozing down my legs as I go about my day. And of course, he doesn't forget to feed me every day: once a day, we go to the barn, I get on all fours, and he gives me all he has until I'm full. At night, there's no sleep, not when there's babies to make. The twins tell me they can't wait to be aunties, and I agree, though I hope they learn to stay clothed around their future nephews or nieces. I've come to learn that they are their own couple, the twins, and are perfectly satisfied with each other.
IV.
Dad passed away peacefully in his sleep. I could feel him giving us his blessing as he left us. His family well cared for, his wife-daughter with a new owner, and two crazy daughters who'd stay with us forever because, well, no one out there will get us, but we got each other
And that's all that matters.