Chapter 1

Author’s note: This story includes incestuous unprotected sex with a mother and her son, with the intention of pregnancy, and does not include anal.

As sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, I noticed a red squirrel darting up the oak tree in our backyard. I cherished the moments of watching nature come alive each morning. While rinsing utensils, I found comfort in the morning routine. The stirring of my son, Brett, in his room reminded me of the day ahead. With a gentle smile, I turned my focus back to the stove, ready to begin our breakfast ritual.

Weekends held special meaning for me when my son and I could reconnect amidst the hustle and bustle of our lives. Typically, Brett would rush off to his early college classes during the week, grabbing a piece of fruit for breakfast as he hurried out the door. But on weekends, the pace slowed, and I took pleasure in preparing a rotating selection of his favorite meals, ensuring he started his day right. With most of his free time dedicated to assisting my sister, Claire, and me in maintaining our homes, these leisurely breakfasts became precious moments of togetherness amidst our busy schedules.

Hearing his bedroom door creak open, a surge of anxiety gripped me, my muscles tensing involuntarily in anticipation of his familiar routine. I inhaled deeply as I heard him walk down the hall, finally exhaling when I felt his strong hands grasp my waist. He kissed me on the side of my neck and greeted me, “Good morning, Mom. Smells amazing. French toast? You’re spoiling me.”

I still remember the day he began this particular ritual. It was right after he started college. Receiving no objection from me, his initial, quick, light touch progressed to a longer, firmer grip. Several weekends ago, he started to peck me on my neck. It too has lengthed in duration and more recently he’s paused while his hot breath washes across my ear during his greeting.

“Thanks, Brett. I thought a hearty breakfast would give you a good start for the day,” I replied.

“I really appreciate it, Mom,” he replied, taking a seat at the table.

I placed a plate, piled high with French toast, bacon, and two eggs, in front of him before sitting opposite him with my bowl of fruit. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, mingled with the scent of sizzling bacon, created a comforting atmosphere in the kitchen.

As he ate, I glanced out the window at the clear blue sky, noticing the golden sunlight streaming through the trees in our backyard. The weather forecast had predicted a scorcher, and the early morning warmth was already evident. “Seems like it’s going to be a hot one, doesn’t it?” I asked, turning back to Brett.

He nodded between bites. “Yeah, it’s already pretty toasty out there.” He took a sip of his coffee, savoring the rich, bold flavor, and commented, “Thanks for always looking out for me, Mom. These breakfasts really make a difference.”

While we ate, he laid out the day’s tasks that he had planned. I barely paid attention as my mind remained on the feel of his hands on my body. My old, worn, threadbare robe should have been tossed years earlier, but I now reserved it for the two mornings each week my son would lay his hands on me. I wondered if the thin material, allowing his fingers to dig into my flesh, excited him as much as it did me, but quickly dismissed it. He had never displayed anything other than a normal son’s attention to his mother.

A hint of jealousy hit me as I watched him consume a huge amount of rich food, while I slowly ate my fruit. He would easily burn off the calories, whereas I had struggled to maintain my figure.

“Who was I fooling?” I questioned silently, realizing the futility of my efforts to meticulously watch my weight, a habit ingrained solely for the sake of preserving my physical appearance. It struck me then, with a pang of introspection, that I hadn’t pursued a relationship since my divorce a decade ago. “So, who was I really doing it for?” I pondered once more, grappling with the truth behind my motivations. Glancing over to my ruggedly handsome son, while he voraciously feasted on his breakfast, I silently acknowledged the reason.

Once his plate was void of every last crumb, he leaned back with a contented smile gracing his lips, his sparkling white teeth peeking out. “Thanks, Mom. That was delicious. I can’t wait to get out in the fresh air. Can I help clean up first?”

“No need, Brett,” I responded, shaking my head. “You have enough to do and I’m in no rush. Don’t overdo it out there.”

“No worries, Mom,” he asserted with determination. “I’ll work on Aunt Claire’s yard first before breaking for lunch. Then I’ll finish ours.” His eyes sparkled with the anticipation of completing his chores. Despite offers from both my sister and me to invest in a riding lawnmower, he remained steadfast in his preference for the old push-behind, relishing the exercise it provided.

With a swift exit, he dashed out the door and it was only then that I noticed he was already fully attired in his work clothes, while I remained, sipping my coffee in my tattered old robe. My hand slipped inside and gripped one breast, covered by a thin, silk bra. I gently squeezed and remembering his touch from earlier, imagined it was his hand, instead of my own. Not allowing my mind to drift any further into forbidden territory, I rose and carried the dishes to the counter.

After stowing the dirty dishes into the washer, I glanced over at my sister’s house and spotted Brett diligently mowing Claire’s yard. However, my brow furrowed as I observed my scantily-clad sister lounging on the back patio. Wearing a halter top and shorts, she lay in a position that would be in my son’s line of vision with each pass. Her large, dark sunglasses concealed where she was looking, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out her motives.

Brett had removed his shirt and tossed it onto a chair beside her in an attempt to cool off. His chiseled torso glistened with sweat, drawing my eyes to him as well as my sister’s. Her intentions didn’t involve tanning. Situated beneath a large umbrella, she sought refuge from the sun’s rays. Throughout her life, she’d been diligent about protecting her fair skin from the sun’s harsh glare. No, she was there to admire my hunky son while displaying her voluptuous wares.

Despite being two years younger than my thirty-seven, our bodies bore a striking resemblance. Following her divorce, she diligently maintained her figure, actively engaging in dating. In contrast, my days were consumed by the responsibilities of raising my son and securing employment.

Fortunately, she weathered her husband’s departure with much less impact than I did. As the primary breadwinner, she not only supported herself but also played a pivotal role in guiding me toward a promising job opportunity. It eventually evolved into a remote position, a blessing I’ve always cherished.

I couldn’t blame her for admiring my son as I’d secretly lusted after him for several years. Turning away, I decided to change clothes and clean the house. After a few hours, I returned to the kitchen to prepare lunch. Brett was almost finished, and I knew he’d soon return, hungry as a bear.

When he stepped onto her deck to retrieve his shirt, she led him into the house. From the angle of his head, I knew he was checking out the backs of my sister’s legs. “Why would she drag my half-dressed son into her house?” I wondered. My mind quickly displayed the image of his naked body on top of my sister as she screamed with joy. It was easy to visualize as I’d fantasized myself in the same position.

She hadn’t dated for a while, and I knew she’d be horny, but it still seemed out of her norm to seduce her own nephew. After a few minutes, I exhaled in relief, watching them exit. Brett clutched a tall glass of iced tea, which explained his unexpected invitation inside. After quickly donning his shirt, he settled into one of the chairs, savoring his refreshing beverage.

Observing her animated hand gestures, it was evident they were engrossed in a lively conversation, likely centered around the yard work he had just finished. Ten minutes elapsed before he stood and pushed the mower toward our lawn. Anticipating his return for lunch, I swiftly finished preparing his beloved cheese sandwiches, well aware of his favorite snack.

“You were right about the heat, Mom,” Brett noted, entering the kitchen while wiping his brow with the bottom of his shirt. My gaze drifted to his exposed, impeccably, sculpted abs while his eyes were covered. As he turned and made his way to his room, he chimed, “I’ll be right there after I clean up. The smell of your fantastic cooking is driving me crazy.”

When he returned, I had his plate filled and waiting. Between mouthfuls, he recounted the tasks he had tackled for his aunt. Once finished, he paused to gather his thoughts before speaking, “Auntie tried to pay me again, but as always, I declined. It’s the least I can do for all that you and Auntie do for me. However, she insisted on having us over for lunch tomorrow. I hope you’re okay with me accepting on your behalf.”

“Sounds wonderful. I’ll always welcome a break from cooking,” I replied, with a soft giggle.

When my mind drifted to an image of him mowing, I suggested, “It’s becoming hotter out there. Wouldn’t it be cooler wearing shorts this afternoon?”

“Great idea, Mom. Maybe a different shirt, too. I worked up a sweat mowing Auntie’s yard this morning,” he agreed and rose to change.

“There’s no need to dirty another shirt for the laundry,” I reasoned. “If you get too warm, you can always remove it. Besides, you’re already tan enough to handle the sun.”

“True enough, Mom,” he acknowledged, strolling down the hall. “I don’t want to burden you with more chores.”

I watched him leave with a smug smirk, pleased with my subtle ploy to treat myself with a little eye candy. I was confident that my mischievous intentions would remain safely concealed. When he returned, I attempted to keep my eyes averted from his muscular, hairy legs. It didn’t help that he elected to wear his old gym shorts, which he had outgrown.

As he walked to the door, my eyes locked onto the bottoms of his round cheeks peeking out from his brief attire. “Brett, aren’t you forgetting something?” I asked, stopping him in his tracks.

When he turned to face me, I answered his curious look, “Your hat and sunglasses. You need some protection for your head.”

He smiled, grabbed them off the stand by the door, and slipped them on. “Thanks, Mom. See you in a while.”

I busied myself cleaning the table and dishes, my mind drifting to the sight of him earlier at my sister’s. Once finished, I decided it was time to reap the reward I had set up for myself—admiring Brett’s sweaty, hunky body.

Recalling what my sister had worn, I didn’t think it appropriate for me to repeat her choice of attire. Sorting through my closet, I settled on a thin, sleeveless, summer dress, which would be cool and allow some sun to tan my arms. Slipping it on, I turned around and inspected myself in my mirror. As with the majority of my dresses, the hemline fell almost to my knees. It wasn’t as snug as I remembered, causing me to smile, knowing I was keeping my weight in check. The outline of my bra was barely noticeable against the thin fabric.

Filling two glasses with ice, I placed them alongside a pitcher of tea on a tray. Making my way out to the deck, I sat at the patio table shaded by an umbrella. When Brett glanced in my direction on one of his passes, I held up a glass of ice. He raised his hand, folded, and unfolded his fingers two times, signaling ten more minutes.

On his next pass by the deck, he pulled his top off, wiped his forehead with it, and tossed it onto a deck chair. He continued mowing, unknowingly providing the show I’d hoped for. His torso glistened with a sheen of sweat under the intense glare of the sun. My eyes traveled from his broad chest to his thick, hairy thighs as he continued mowing. When finished, he jumped onto the deck and sat in the chair opposite me.

I filled his glass, and he promptly gulped it down, then set it down for a refill. “Wow, it’s miserably hot!” he exclaimed, using his shirt to wipe the sweat off his chest and face. I wanted so much to offer to do it, but decided that might be over the top.

We continued to discuss the weather and the splendor of our flowering bushes while he cooled off, his dark sunglasses disguising the direction of his gaze. From the angle of his head, it appeared he was checking out my skimpily-attired body. My temperature rose, but it was from my handsome son staring at me, not the sun.

All too soon, he stood and remarked, “Think I’ll shower and work on some homework.” He quickly turned and left, but not before my eyes locked onto his bulging shorts. “Did his prick harden from looking at his mother?” I asked myself, hopeful that was the case. I busied myself the rest of the day, until it was time to prepare dinner. I made his favorite dish and relished the way he devoured my servings. Seeing him appreciate my efforts always brought me joy.

“Wow, this is delicious!” he exclaimed between mouthfuls of food. “Thanks a lot, Mom. It’s exactly what I needed after today’s workout.”

“It’s the least I could do to thank you for all your hard work,” I replied. Watching him enjoy my cooking was a side benefit to admiring his handsome face. His tousled brown hair and expressive eyes were inherited from me, but his sculpted face with his prominent chin came from his father, whom I had divorced ten years earlier. His sun-kissed skin added to his youthful appearance, and his smile, revealing straight, white teeth, would melt anyone’s heart—especially mine.

All too soon, he finished eating and excused himself, saying, “I need to get back to working on a project for school. I’m hitting the sack early tonight. Good night, Mom.”

“Good night, Brett,” I replied, softly, reluctant to see him vanish for the rest of the day.

The next day, after breakfast, he went to his room to continue working on his school assignment. When it was time to have lunch with my sister, he walked with me the short distance to his aunt’s house.

“Hi guys,” Claire chirped as we entered through the back door. She hugged each of us lightly and returned to the counter. “It’s almost ready. Take a seat and I’ll serve you.”

Over lunch, our conversation naturally gravitated toward Brett’s studies. When we finished eating, Brett rose, collected our dishes, and took them to the sink to rinse and load them into the dishwasher, as was his usual routine.

“He’s such a gentleman,” Claire gushed. “Does he do the same at your house?”

“Absolutely,” I replied with a smile. “He’s incredibly helpful. I don’t know what I’d do without him. We’re so fortunate he chose to attend the local college instead of the state university.”

“That reminds me,” Claire stated, turning her attention to Brett. “Did you want me to meet at your house at two before we take off?”

Before Brett could answer, I interjected, “Where are you going? Don’t you have class tomorrow, Brett?”

His blushing expression was one I recognized from the past. He was concealing something from me.

He stammered, “It’s for the school project I mentioned, Mom. My Social Psychology professor is interviewing for a research assistant and one of the requirements is to have an older woman work alongside the researcher. When I discussed it with Aunt Claire yesterday, she offered her help.”

My heart sank a little, realizing he had made plans with my sister without even considering asking me. A pang of hurt washed over me, a mixture of sadness and disappointment. I tried to mask it with a smile, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm. My chest felt tight, and a lump formed in my throat as I sat silent, unable to speak, fearing I would cry.

Claire recognized my saddened emotional state and promptly scolded Brett. “You didn’t ask your mother first? After all the projects she assisted you with throughout school, she’d be the ideal person to help you.”

Brett fidgeted nervously, but before he could defend himself, Claire turned to me and apologized, “I’m so sorry, Aria. When Brett discussed it with me, I assumed he had asked you first. Please take my place tomorrow. I’d never come between you and your son.”

Her tone was sincere, convincing me that Brett had indeed orchestrated the entire scenario. Observing his anxious expression, I couldn’t help but suppress a chuckle at his discomfort as he gathered his courage to confront the situation.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he started, pausing to gather his thoughts. “I thought you might not enjoy it, and I wasn’t sure if it would fit into your work timetable.”

He was aware that my workload had lightened recently when I previously mentioned to him my intention to take more time off during the summer. Though it was clear he wasn’t sharing everything, I didn’t want to press him in front of my sister. So, I gently spoke up, “Brett, I’d be happy to assist you. I’ll rearrange my schedule for tomorrow so we can meet with your professor.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he meekly replied, his tone unenthusiastic. “We’ll talk more about it on the way to school.”

Our conversation switched to other topics for the rest of our stay and he quickly sequestered himself in his room when we arrived home.

After breakfast, Brett left for his morning classes, giving me time to reflect on the day ahead. As the hour of his return approached, I browsed my wardrobe for something suitable to wear. The professor’s stipulation that an older woman assist him lingered in my thoughts. I couldn’t shake the image of an older man, perhaps with intentions beyond the academic, insisting on such a condition. Deciding to err on the side of caution, I chose a modest dress that downplayed my figure. As I caught my reflection, dressed almost like a vintage schoolmarm, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony.

When Brett arrived, he quickly glanced in my direction, withholding commenting on my dress selection. As we drove to school, he seemed distracted. Eventually, he explained, “Mom, I didn’t ask you to help because Professor Brown’s latest research focuses on the relationships between single mothers and their sons. It’s a little personal and I thought it might be uncomfortable for you. Maybe it’s best if we just cancel the interview when we arrive, to spare both of us any awkwardness.”

“Nonsense,” I refuted. “You’ve worked hard on preparing for this interview for the past few days and I’m interested to see how it plays out. Don’t worry about my feelings. I’m a big girl and won’t be easily offended. Just do your best as always.”

“Sure, Mom,” he replied.

His nervousness belied his agreement, but I was more determined than ever to discover what had him so rattled.

After checking in with the secretary, she buzzed the interoffice before saying, “You can go right in.”

When we entered, I was taken aback by the sight of a striking woman in her thirties. My initial assumption of an old, horny, crusty white man vanished instantly. Brett nudged me from my surprise, introducing us, “Professor Brown, this is my mother, Aria. Mom, meet my professor.”

Before I could take a step, she closed the gap with a swift stride, extending her hand with a broad smile. “Please, call me Jennifer. I prefer it to any formal title.”

Her handshake was gentle but firm, giving me a moment to gather my thoughts. “Nice to meet you. Brett didn’t mention his professor was a woman—let alone one so stunning.”

My cheeks warmed with a blush at my own forwardness, but Jennifer seemed unfazed, likely accustomed to such remarks. Her gaze was kind and direct as she responded, “Likewise, he didn’t mention his mother was so lovely. It’s fitting for someone with such a melodic name as Aria. And I absolutely love the style of your hair.”

Reaching over, she gently brushed my hair to one side, exposing my ear. “Curtain bangs are coming back in and I’ve been thinking of switching myself. Your brown eyes perfectly complement the color of your hair. I’ve toyed with the idea of changing the hue on mine, but I doubt if the administration here would approve of a green-haired professor.”

Her infectious giggle elicited a laugh from me in response.

Brett looked on, shifting uneasily as Jennifer flirted with his mother.

When she noticed Brett’s jittery movements, she took a step back and gestured towards the chairs. “Please, have a seat, and we’ll get started.”

After adjusting a few papers, Jennifer began, “I’ve spoken with Brett before about the nature of my research, so today I’ll focus on evaluating how well he’s prepared for his role.”

I felt a surge of pride as Brett confidently answered each question, showcasing his depth of knowledge on the topic. The interaction felt more akin to an oral exam than a typical interview, but I had complete confidence in Brett’s ability to excel, regardless.

Since I wasn’t a part of the conversation, I found myself drawn to Jennifer’s facial expressions, mesmerized by her captivating appearance. Her light golden hair, styled in a bob cut, framed her face elegantly, drawing attention to her charming nose and striking green eyes. It dawned on me that Brett’s recent erratic behavior might be attributed to this alluring woman. It would be difficult for anyone not to have a crush on her.

I heard very little of their conversation as my thoughts drifted to how she and Brett might interact when they’re alone. “Would this assignment bring them closer and eventually they’d end up having an affair?” I pondered.

My fantasy was interrupted when Jennifer spoke, “Aria, I’m sorry we’ve been ignoring you, but we’re ready to wrap it up. I’m so glad that you’ve agreed to participate in this project. Do you have any questions about your involvement with the process?”

“Did she explain my responsibilities when I was deep in my fantasy?” I asked myself. Not wanting to admit I wasn’t paying attention, I answered, “No, I’m glad to help him with whatever he needs. I’ve always enjoyed helping him with his projects.”

Jennifer’s smile shifted to one of curiosity and confusion, causing me to worry that I missed an important point. She opened a drawer, pulled out a card, and scribbled something on it before handing it to me. “Please call me if you have any questions at all. My number is on the back,” she stated, her eyes silently signaling that she wanted more of me.

After sliding it into my purse, she concluded, “As both of you may have guessed, this wasn’t really an interview. I just wanted to confirm Brett was prepared and I’m quite pleased to find that he’s more than ready. Congratulations to both of you. Interviews with the participants are scheduled on Tuesdays at three pm and I’ll expect a written and oral follow-up on Wednesday. Any questions?”

Brett and I simultaneously answered, “No.”

Brett was eerily silent on the way home and I wondered if I was wrong in assuming he held a crush on his professor. That evening as I rehashed the day, the image of Jennifer’s expression flashed before me and I fished out her card from her purse. Turning it over, the scribbling she had written was, “Please text me tonight.”

Hoping it wasn’t too late, I whipped out my phone and messaged her, “Hi Jennifer. I just read your note so I’m sorry I’m writing to you at this hour. Is everything alright?”

After five minutes, she replied, “I’d like to discuss something with you tomorrow. Could we meet at Fauna Bistro? My treat, of course.”

It was an upscale diner that I’d always wanted to try so I didn’t hesitate to answer, “I’d love to go out for lunch. There’s no need to pay for my meal though. Is noon good for you?”

“Perfect,” she replied. “It’s a date. See you then.”

I arrived on time, but I noticed that Jennifer was already sitting at a table, waving at me. Once seated, we ordered and it wasn’t long before we were engaged in a lively conversation. When my salad arrived, my attention was more on the turkey club sandwich Jennifer had ordered.

Eyeing my plate, Jennifer stated, “It’s easy to see why you have such a slim figure. I have to work out every night because of the cravings I harbor for tasty food.”

“There are times I have to treat myself to something better,” I replied. “I’ve been known to eat an entire cheese pizza with a bottle of red wine, especially if I’m depressed.”

“Me too!” she exclaimed, giggling. After we finished eating, we had our iced teas refilled and when the conversation lulled, Jennifer stated, “The reason I wanted to talk to you today was that I suspect Brett hasn’t filled you in with the specifics of my project.”

“He has been rather tight-lipped,” I confessed. “I figured he was just nervous, trying to impress his hot professor.” Her wide smile reassured me that I hadn’t been too forward.

“Let me further explain the things you might not be aware of,” she began. “You’ll be interviewing single mothers who are having sexual relationships with their sons.”

“Eek!” I screeched, a bit too loudly, attracting glances from nearby patrons. Quickly recomposing myself, I said, “Sorry, but that caught me off guard. You’re right, he didn’t explain that to me. Now I understand why he was so hesitant to include me. He tried to enlist his aunt’s help instead of mine.”

“I know. He told me that he was asking her and I was pleasantly surprised to see you accompany him instead,” she stated. “It’s important for the mothers to disclose their intimate interactions and they all insisted that they be interviewed by someone who could relate to them. You’re supposed to act like you’re having a physical relationship with your son to set their mind at ease.”

“These mothers are involved with incest? Isn’t that illegal and how did you persuade the college to be involved with such a project?” I asked, more curious than disgusted, as I thought back to my own indecent thoughts concerning my son.

“Actually, I haven’t coordinated this through the administration,” she explained. “It’s for a book I intend on writing in the future. I’m interested in the pivotal moments of a mother and son breaking societal boundaries and transitioning to an incestuous couple. I’ve interviewed all the mothers to ensure confidentiality. I can understand if you don’t want to continue.”

When my mind raced with the newfound information, a warmth flowed through me. It excited me to think of acting as my son’s lover in front of other women. Not wanting to sound too eager, I answered, “I’ve always supported Brett with all of his projects. I’ll do whatever it takes to help him with this one too. I’ll have to brush up on my acting skills, though.”

She laughed and smiled widely. Grasping my hand with hers, she replied, “Wonderful. I’m so glad you’re willing to help. I hope it’s not infringing on your work schedule.”

“Not at all,” I replied. “I work remotely and can work around it.”

“Really?” Jennifer asked, curiously. “I’d love to see your office setup. Would you be willing to give me a tour sometime? I have Thursday afternoons off so I could drop by for lunch. I’ll pick up something for us to eat on the way there.”

“Sounds great,” I replied. Shifting the conversation, I asked, “At the interview, you mentioned you had already chosen Brett. What made you pick him over the other students?”

“When I first reached out to the mothers, they emphasized that the interview process would be more comfortable if conducted by a young man and his single mother. That narrowed the field to five candidates. Honestly, during the interviews, all but Brett made a pass at me. I was impressed by Brett’s professionalism, attention to detail, and his eagerness to learn everything he could.”

“He’s always been dedicated to his education,” I affirmed. “I’m confident you won’t be disappointed with him.”

“I think I’m very lucky to have found him,” she replied with a smile. “And he comes with the added bonus of an intelligent, beautiful mother.”

I couldn’t help but blush at her constant flirting, but I didn’t mind. My attraction to her was only growing stronger. Her twinkling green eyes drew my gaze like magnets. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, I responded to her compliment, “It’s hard to believe my son didn’t make a pass at you. You’re absolutely gorgeous. Honestly, I’m a bit jealous that he gets to spend so much time with you.”

Jennifer reached across the table, gently held my hand, and said, “Well, we can certainly make up for that, can’t we? I’ve really enjoyed having lunch with you today. How about we make it a regular thing?”

“I’d love that,” I agreed, matching her wide smile. With that, we decided to part ways, making plans to meet at my house on Thursday.

The first thing I did when I arrived home was compose a message to my workplace, notifying them that I would be taking Tuesday afternoons off. Just before sending it, I remembered Jennifer mentioning she had Thursday afternoons off. Smiling, I amended my note to include Thursdays as well.

My mood was at an all-time high when Brett arrived to pick me up for the interview. Halfway to our destination, he broke the silence, confessing, “Mom, I need to explain something to you, and you’re probably not going to like it.”